Ask Question Quotes Novels & Stories

He asked "That's because I was, if you would please excuse yourself from my house. The door is right in front of you" "With who?" he asked "Why are you pestering me?"I groaned "Rule of conversation: Never answer a question with a question," he told me with a playful expression "Says the guy who wants to see me naked" I scoffed "Answer my question and I'll answer yours" he negotiated "What is this? twenty questions?" He sighed "Is it a deal or not?" he asked "Deal, "I said with a bored expression "You were having a dinner date with who?" "With a sandwich" I sighed

He asked with a smirk on his face” “Can, ca….can….” “What is it, you can ask whatever you want to ask but that depends on what you'll give me in return, so ask your question” My eyes moved back to the tattoo, I bit my lips wondering whether to ask or not, but I've been curious for a long time so I might as well ask the question I want to ask I poked my index finger at the tattoo and without looking in his eyes cause I don't want to get lost in his gaze I asked

“Ain’t nobody scared of your robe, Asher.” “Y’all should be,” Asher replied. Rory cleared his throat. “We’ll support you, Ava. We just… need time to catch up.” Ava nodded. “That’s fair.” Antoine raised a hand. “Mama. I got one question.” “Lord,” Ava muttered. “What is it?” Antoine leaned forward, serious for once. “He rich?” Ava blinked. Delphine gasped. “You can’t ASK that!” Theo shouted, “YES he can!”

Asher clenched his jaw, his expression darkening behind his sunglasses. “She’s not-...” he began, but the cameras kept clicking. “Is it true she’s pregnant?” another voice called. “Does she know you’re out here playing dress-up with your ex?” Riley blinked, stunned. “What the hell!” “Enough,” Asher snapped, stepping forward, shielding Riley from the flashes. “You’ve got your pictures. That’s enough for today.” “Come on, Asher, just one quote!” someone insisted, still filming. He turned sharply, his tone cold. “Here’s your quote, fuck off.”

A comfortable silence settled in the air as I fiddled with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. Should I ask? I want to? But will I get an answer? Probably not. “Just ask your question,” August said, not looking away from the road. My brows furrowed. “How do you know?” I asked. He pointed to my sleeves, and I remembered. He said I did that when I had something on my mind. Oh. “Just respond with a yes or no, okay?” I asked. “Okay.” He responded. Taking a deep breath, I nodded.

I said, lifting my chin like I wasn't currently smoldering, "Well, I still have a couple of questions." Asher's gaze didn't leave mine. I pointed at him like he was on trial, even though my pulse was doing backflips. "But," I added, voice sharp with a dare, "if you don't laugh at me when I ask something dumb... I'll give you scratchies. Like real scratchies. Right behind the ear, Like you're a..." I paused, and because I couldn't help myself, I added in a too-sweet voice, "...good boy."

she eagerly requests. "Cathy," he says with an even bigger smile. She squeals with delight. "Would you like a picture or an autograph?" Ashton offers. "We'll have a Q&A session later, where hopefully we can answer some of your questions." "Yes, yes! Can you sign my shirt?" Cathy asks eagerly. "Yeah, definitely," Ashton agrees. An assistant promptly hands Ashton a Sharpie.

Me: "Why was she so upset then? Did you give her the cold shoulder?" Quentin Bennett: "No, have you had breakfast?" Me: "Did you ignore her?" Quentin Bennett: "No, have you had breakfast?" Me: "Is this an automated response from you?" Quentin Bennett: "Have you had your meal? I've asked a hundred times already :)." Me: "Yes, I have." Quentin Bennett: ":)" As I scrolled through Quentin Bennett's messages, I realized I had been asked the same question every time, and I hadn't responded to any of them!

Why was he and Celeste… Terence didn't answer Mason's question. Instead, he looked at Celeste and asked, "Celeste, care to explain to me what the hell you're doing?" Mason's eyelid twitched, but at the very next second, Celeste grabbed his wrist before saying, "Why do I need to tell you what my boyfriend and I do?"

Volume returning to normal, he asked, “How are you? Are you okay?” My brow furrowed, my eyes narrowing as I tried to work out what the hell was happening right now. “I’m fine, thanks. Why? Shouldn’t I be?” “Isn’t it a customary when calling someone to ask how they are?” Aaaand the dick was back. But not for long, it seemed. “I’m sorry, Marissa. Forgive me, it’s been a long day.” Yeah, he was telling me. “That’s okay. How are you?”