He's tall, and in his jeans and T-shirt, he's all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair, and burning dark eyes. Yes, Jose's pretty hot, but I think he's finally getting the message: we're just friends.
Jose is one deltoid tattoo away from lycanthropy. But back to Christian, whose voice is "husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel . . . or something," and Ana, who has transitioned from murmuring to muttering. But the quote of the day?
After Christian shows up at the mom-and-pop hardware store (?) where Ana works to buy some provocative supplies, she suggests he also purchase a pair of coveralls, so as not to ruin his clothing while completing his mysterious "DIY" project. When he responds, "I could always take them off," Ana's interior monologue provides us with today's winner:
No, that's not it. It is "I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto."
Now. I'm pretty sure our (I'm almost certain) virginal ingenue meant The Little Red Book, as the first edition of Marx and Engels's influential political manuscript looked like this:
|Unless by "color" she meant ghostly pallor, and was in fact not embarrassed but about to pass out. In which case, my bad.|
and Chairman Mao's aptly titled guide to his personality cult looked like this:
|You know. Red.|