So this is why women get BBLs, and enlarge their busts—not forgetting the frozen plastic faces that look like porcelain dolls left too close to a bonfire.
Men's attention.
And no, before anyone dares ask: I did not charm my boobs or butt.
Apparently, just being the new teacher with an actually decent figure and a fresh, pretty face is enough.
Because imagine this: early in the morning—barely dawn, mind you—two morons are knocking at my door.
One holding a box of cookies, the other a box of donuts.
Their excuses?
"Good morning, Rose," One said, flashing that grin that makes young witches forget their own names. "I made too many cookies and thought you might want some."
Yeah. Made. As if I believed for a second the charming bloodsucker could bake without burning the kitchen down.
Then the other, like some romcom rival scripted by a drunken playwright, lifts up a box.
"And I brought donuts. Freshly made. Consider it a welcome gift."
The astonishing part?
