Cellblock Heat
“Lesson one: Don’t manhandle the goods. Be gentle. This ain’t your math homework.”
He gave me that sharp, patient glare again, and I loved it—how he always looked two seconds from telling me off. I pinched a bit of weed and spread it evenly on the paper. “See, you gotta treat her soft. Roll her up, not too tight, not too loose. It’s like flirtin’—if you rush, you mess it up.”
“You’re comparing this to flirting?” he asked dryly.
“Hell yeah,” I said. “Flirtin’ is an art form, same as rollin’. Get too cocky, and you end up burnin’ out too soon.”
Bab Populer