The Quest Read Online Free PDF

popped up on my screen.
                  “Hello.”
                  “Well, hello, Carl.” I answered back hesitantly.
                  “You looked pretty.” He typed in his little small voice. Of course, I really don’t remember what it sounded like. It was all such a blur. All I remembered was Radley kissing me and wine.
                  “You have good taste in wine.” I typed but also afraid of his response. I kinda felt bad for snatching his wine and slamming the door in his face. He had no idea I was having a hard time dealing with him at my door. But of course, he was all that his profile said he was, short, nice, a gentleman. I, on the other hand, was not anything like I claimed to be I was mean, wine grabbing, flower stealing. And those Radley lips that had touched mine just moments before he arrived, still had me frazzled when I opened the door to him, so that was my excuse. Seriously not accountable for my actions when stuff like that happens. And I just don’t get how Radley does that. And why after all this time? How is it possible he can still make the hair on my upper lip curl?
                  “Thank you. Hope you enjoy it.”
                  Poor guy. I didn’t answer back. I was enjoying the wine in fact at that very moment. I didn’t want to tell him that in fear he might invite himself over. I’d have a hard time being mean to him a third time and I’d probably let him in. I just wasn’t up for the company. I know I promised to be his friend. I mean I’m really this very nice person; it was just bad timing for him. I grunted as another message appeared from him.
                  “What color are your nails? Do you always paint your nails? I bet they are a pretty pink.”
                  “Red,” I lied. Why is he asking me that?
                  “I love hot pink. You get your toenails done too? Same color? What color are they? You got good long scratching nails. I like that!”
                  Umm, what’s up with the nail questions? Is he seriously asking me about my toenails too?
                  “They are pretty. Very pretty. I like long nails. I love your nails. I bet you give good back scratches huh? Will you scratch my back, please? Can I come over now? We can open the bottle of wine and share it. It came from Italy ya know.”
                  I glanced over at the bottle and read the label, he was right. But no, I’m not scratching his back! “No thank you. Busy.”
                  “Busy with what?”
                  “Stuff.”
                  “I love nails. I just want to see yours. And your toes. I love toes. Toes are my favorites!”
                  “No.” Why was I still having this conversation? “I’m busy right now.”
                  “Doing what? Come on. I need to be scratched all over. It won’t matter if you hurt me, I like it. Do you sharpen them? Are they pointy?”
                  “What?”
                  “You know pointy. Are your nails nice and pointy?”
                  “No!”
                  “You should sharpen them,” he typed, “then you could register them as lethal weapons.”
                  Lethal weapons? Who has pointy nails? This little guy has a nail fetish. Eww. With that last request, I logged off. I blamed it on technical difficulties. I wasn’t answering nail fetish questions and I wasn’t registering them as weapons. It was weird and stupid. Very stupid! Why did he ask if my nails were long and pointy? No one does that! It’s not like I’m gonna be giving him any back scratches anytime soon or ever for that matter. I only agreed to be his friend and nothing more. It’s not my fault he showed up with flowers and a fine wine expecting more. Suddenly I had a