If his mashed potatoes taste better at my table then maybe he'll stay.
Yeah, you love his voice. How could you not? This whole circle of girls should know that I hear that beautiful voice every other day.
Sometimes, right next to me.
Every once in a while, arm-in-arm down halls and auditoriums. And you know what?
It never gets old.
In fact, it gets better every time. His voice could sculpt the roughest stone. After February 12th, he's all yours. Until then, I hope you can let me enjoy him in peace.
Everyone I talk to says he's trouble.
I guess I like trouble.
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