Chapter 4 is almost finished, and I'm starting to edit it and put on all the finishing touches. I'm going to try to get it posted tonight. Here's a little teaser for you guys, as a thank you for being really absurdly awesome.

At 2:25 exactly, I am standing outside Venus Envy, pacing back and forth and generally acting like a complete chickenshit. I've tried to tell myself that this is no big deal, that guys talk to girls all the time, but this is, in fact, a huge fucking deal. I don't talk to girls. I don't talk to anyone. But Christ, I want to talk to this girl.
I sit down on the sidewalk with my back pressed to the pink-painted bricks of the building and my knees pulled up to my chest. I pull out a cigarette and light it, taking a long drag through the filter. I hold the heat in my lungs, savouring the burning sensation. When I exhale, I close my eyes and try to think about this like a rational fucking human being. Bella is just a girl. I know nothing about her, except that she's fucking gorgeous, doesn't get her skin tone from a goddamn tanning bed, and she apparently listens to Tool.
Okay, so that pretty much makes her my dream girl. But who the fuck knows? When she opens her mouth to do anything unrelated to retail bullshit, she might be a complete bitch. Or worse, she could be a total fucking moron. I have no way of knowing unless I talk to her.
Then again, if I don't talk to her, I'll never have to find out. If she's a goddamn airhead, then the fantasy of Bella is better than the real deal. Maybe I'm better off being a complete pussy. I groan and, without opening my eyes, stub out my cigarette on the sidewalk. How the fuck am I ever going to pull this shit off? I start knocking my head roughly against the brick, hoping to force some goddamn sense into myself.
“Careful,” a voice says. “I think you might already be damaged enough.” A shadow moves over me, and I open an eye to look up at whoever the fuck is interrupting my little fit.
Melted milk chocolate gazes back at me.
Shit.