Just Friends Huh Quotes

Life is a series of losses," says my father-in-law one afternoon...."What Dad?"..."oh, I was just thinking about how, with age, it is one loss after another, " he replies. "Huh." He is right. With age we slowly lose our senses and even our pleasures, our parents and then our friends, preparing us for our own absence. An interesting thought.

So… this business trip of yours?” “What about it?” “Are you and Coop sharing a room?” She raised her eyebrows, then said, “Right back at you, Cowboy.” “Liz and I are just friends.” “Uh-huh. I hope your shots are up-to-date.” “Meow.

What was so important that I had to risk my friends' safety to sneak out here?" I demanded. "Huh? What was so -" "I had to see you." He closed the space between us. His hands were warm from his pockets as they closed around my fingers. "I had to know that you were okay. I had to see you and touch you and... know." He brushed my hair away from my face, his fingers light against my skin. "In London..." He trailed off. "After D.C. ..." "I'm fine," I said, easing away. "CAT scans and X-rays were normal. No lasting damage." Most people believe me when I lie. I've learned how to say the words just right.I have a trusting kind of face. But the boy in front of me was a trained operative, so Zach knew better. And besides, Zach knew me. "Really?" He touched my face again. "Cause I'm not.

Footsteps approach the kitchen. Garrett wanders in, wiping sweat off his brow. When he notices Sabrina, he brightens. “Oh good. You’re here. Hold on—gotta grab something.” She turns to me as if to say, Is he talking to me? He’s already gone, though, his footsteps thumping up the stairs. At the table, Hannah runs a hand through her hair and gives me a pleading look. “Just remember he’s your best friend, okay?” That doesn’t sound ominous. When Garrett returns, he’s holding a notepad and a ballpoint pen, which he sets on the table as he sits across from Sabrina. “Tuck,” he says. “Sit. This is important.” I’m so baffled right now. Hannah’s resigned expression doesn’t help in lessening the confusion. Once I’m seated next to Sabrina, Garrett flips open the notepad, all business. “Okay. So let’s go over the names.” Sabrina raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug, because I legitimately don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. “I’ve put together a solid list. I really think you’re going to like these.” But when he glances down at the page, his face falls. “Ah crap. We can’t use any of the boy names.” “Wait.” Sabrina holds up a hand, her brow furrowed. “You’re picking names for our baby?” He nods, busy flipping the page. My baby mama gapes at me. I shrug again. “Just out of curiosity, what were the boy names?” Grace hedges, clearly fighting a smile. He cheers up again. “Well, the top contender was Garrett.” I snicker loud enough to rattle Sabrina’s water glass. “Uh-huh,” I say, playing along. “And what was the runner-up?” “Graham.” Hannah sighs. “But it’s okay. I have some kickass girl names too.” He taps his pen on the pad, meets our eyes, and utters two syllables. “Gigi.” My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I’m not naming my daughter Gigi.” Sabrina is mystified. “Why Gigi?” she asks slowly. Hannah sighs again. The name suddenly clicks in my head. Oh for fuck’s sake. “G.G.,” I mutter to Sabrina. “As in Garrett Graham.” She’s silent for a beat. Then she bursts out laughing, triggering giggles from Grace and eventually Hannah, who keeps shaking her head at her boyfriend. “What?” Garrett says defensively. “The godfather should have a say in the name. It’s in the rule book.” “What rule book?” Hannah bursts out. “You make up the rules as you go along!” “So?

Until you ask my husband those same questions, I just can’t answer them anymore.” But I can’t stop. I can’t help myself. “Do you know why no one asks men how they balance it all? It’s because there is no expectation of that. Bringing home money is enough. We don’t expect you to be anything more than a provider, men. But a working woman? Not only do you have to bring home the bacon and fry it up, you gotta be a size double-zero, too. You’ve got to volunteer at the school, you’ve got to be a sex kitten, a great friend, a community activist. There are all these expectations that we put on women that we don’t put on men. In the same way, we never inquire about what’s happening in a man’s urethra. ‘Low sperm count, huh? That why you don’t have kids? Have you tried IVF?

Random Guy: You can't snowboard? Want me to teach you? Haruna: Huh? Random Guy: You here with your friends? I am too, but do you want to board together? Haruna: What? Could you be...hitting on me? Random Guy: Haha. That's...an extremely direct way to put it, but yes, I'm hitting on you. Haruna: Wait, I know. Is it that you have some kind of secret grudge against Komiyama Yoh? Random Guy: Who? Haruna: Or you're going to sell me, or take my money, or something? Random Guy: Uh...No... Haruna: You mean you're purely trying to pick me up? Random Guy: Yes, purely... Haruna: Yoh! I got hit on! Random Guy: Oh, so your boyfriends here. Please excuse me. Haruna: He was trying to pick me up! Isn't that incredible! Yoh: It's not incredible!! Don't get picked up!! Haruna: This is the first time that I've been hit on in my entire life! Yoh: Don't get hit on up here! What are you so happy about? Haruna: I'm not happy. It's more like... surprised? Yoh: You should've hurried up and said no right away! Haruna: Well, it was my first time getting hit on, so I'd never had to say no before, so I didn't know what to do and... Yoh: In that situation, just hit the guy! Hatuna: Whaaaat? With my fist? Yoh: With your fist! Or just slap him! Haruna: Understood. I'll hit them!

I've never been this naked with a girl before. I'm not self-conscious or anything, but its different. Not weird. I'm definitely all right with Hayles seeing this much of me. "Wowza." Okay, now I'm a little embarrassed. "Is that a good thing?" She puts her hands on my chest and her face goes from pink to red. (...) "Seriously? Brody, this is totally another reason why you're just super fabulous." Huh? "You don't even know how freaking hot you are. That's uber sexy." Her eyes go to my bare torso. "Count with me." One finger strokes part of my stomach. "One..." She moves an inch or two over. "Two..." She slides down. "Three..." Back over. "Four..." Down. "Five..." Over. "Six." She flicks her gaze back up to me. "That's what people call a six-pack." I roll my eyes, but she keeps moving her fingers up to my chest. I want to stop her, but I don't at the same time. It feels too good. "And these..." She flattens her hands on me, and I tug her closer. "Are called pecs. Its like you stepped out of a fantasy.

Gray and Drew sitting side by side, with their muscled physiques taking up a good portion of the booth, look like a comic book come to life. They catch me staring and both say, “What?” at the same time. Smiling, I shake my head. “Nothing. I just had this image of Thor and Captain America having a beer.” They both color at the same time. Which is kind of cute. “Ha!” cries Anna at my side. Her cheeks plump with a wide grin. “I had that Captain America thought about Drew too.” Drew perks up. “You did, huh?” Gray snorts. “Dude, I’ve just been compared to Thor. I totally win.” “What the hell does Thor have? A little hammer?” Drew waves a hand as if to say, please. But Gray smirks. “At least he isn’t hiding behind a wussy shield. Thor is a god. Enough said.” “A boring god with the personality of a post,” Drew volleys. “And you’re saying Captain America isn’t boring? Dude. He doesn’t even understand modern culture. He’s like a 1940s Boy Scout.” Drew and Gray eyeball each other for a second. Then Drew relents with a laugh. “Touché.

She’d just watched Tristan McLean, her cool suave movie star dad, reduced to near insanity. Leo could barely stand to watch that, but for Piper—Wow, Leo couldn’t even imagine. He figured that would make her insecure about herself, too. If weakness was inherited, she’d be wondering, could she break down the same way her dad did? “Hey, don’t worry,” Leo said. “Piper, you’re the strongest, most powerful beauty queen I’ve ever met. You can trust yourself. For what it’s worth, you can trust me too.” The helicopter dipped in a wind shear, and Leo almost jumped out of his skin. He cursed and righted the chopper. Piper laughed nervously. “Trust you, huh?” “Ah, shut up, already.” But he grinned at her, and for a second, it felt like he was just relaxing comfortably with a friend. Then they hit the storm clouds.

I grin, and he beams with pride. “So what kind of hat is that?” I ask, unable to resist. He’s adorable when he’s showing off his wardrobe—like a puppy doing tricks. Although I remain cautious, knowing in the blink of an eye he can become a wolf again. “My Peregrination Cap,” he answers. “Huh?” His smile widens—baring white teeth. “Peregrination. An excursion … a journey.” “So, why don’t you just call it your traveling cap?” “Then it wouldn’t be much of a conversation starter, would it?” I raise an eyebrow. “Um, the fact that it’s made of living moths might give you something to talk about.” Morpheus laughs. For once our relationship feels comfortable, friendly.

- Sorry, it's just... and odd choice. - Well you don't choose who you fall for. It just happens. - I don't think that's true. You should be in control of your emotions. - Control, maybe, but that doesn't stop them from happening. I figure, sometimes you don't have to deny them. - A friend of mine said keeping an emotion buried deep inside makes you stronger. - Huh. Would you describe this friend as a *happy* person?

Gunner shook his head; he wasn't in the mood. He stared down at his bottle as he spoke. "Yeah, and what if I do go after it and what if I find no one, and I'm alone for the next sixty years? What then? Huh? Friends and family will get married. I'll be stuck buying gifts. Years pass: children, birthday parties. At dinner parties, I'll be odd man out, forcing people to arrange five chairs around a table instead of four or six. Or, okay, let's say maybe twenty years down the line I meet someone nice and I've already given up on ever finding true love. Let's say the girl is a few pounds overweight, has fizzy hair and an annoying laugh, but at this point, I'm also a few pounds overweight and my hair is thinning and my laughter is annoying. Maybe then the two of us get married, and both our groups of friends will say, 'See I told you that you'd find true love. It just took a while.' And we'll smile, but we'll both know it's a lie--

I'll be right here. Good luck, or break a leg, or something.” As Jay and Gregory turned and headed into the crowd, my traitorous eyes returned to the corner and found another pair or eyes staring darkly back. I dropped my gaze for three full seconds, and then lifted my eyes again, hesitant. The drummer was still staring at me, oblivious to the three girls trying to win back his attention. He put up one finger at the girls and said something that looked like, “Excuse me.” Oh, my goodness. Was he...? Oh, no. Yes, he was walking this way. My nerves shot into high alert. I looked around, but nobody else was near. When I looked back up, there he was, standing right in front of me. Good gracious, he was sexy-a word that had not existed in my personal vocabulary until that moment. This guy was sexy like it was his job or something. He looked straight into my eyes, which threw me off guard, because nobody ever looked me in the eye like that. Maybe Patti and Jay, but they didn't hold my stare like he was doing now. He didn't look away, and I found that I couldn't take my gaze off those blue eyes. “Who are you?” he asked in a blunt, almost confrontational way. I blinked. It was the strangest greeting I'd ever received. “I'm...Anna.” “Right. Anna. How very nice.” I tried to focus on his words and not his luxuriously accented voice, which made everything sound lovely. He leaned in closer. “But who are you?” What did that mean? Did I need to have some sort of title or social standing to enter his presence? “I just came with my friend Jay?” Oh, I hated when I got nervous and started talking in questions. I pointed in the general direction of the guys, but he didn't take his eyes off me. I began rambling. “They just wrote some songs. Jay and Gregory. That they wanted you to hear. Your band, I mean. They're really...good?” His eyes roamed all around my body, stopping to evaluate my sad, meager chest. I crossed my arms. When his gaze landed on that stupid freckle above my lip, I was hit by the scent of oranges and limes and something earthy, like the forest floor. It was pleasant in a masculine way. “Uh-huh.” He was closer to my face now, growling in that deep voice, but looking into my eyes again. “Very cute. And where is your angel?” My what? Was that some kind of British slang for boyfriend? I didn't know how to answer without continuing to sound pitiful. He lifted his dark eyebrows, waiting. “If you mean Jay, he's over there talking to some man in a suit. But he's not my boyfriend or my angel or whatever.” My face flushed with heat and I tightened my arms over my chest. I'd never met anyone with an accent like his, and I was ashamed of the effect it had on me. He was obviously rude, and yet I wanted him to keep talking to me. It didn't make any sense. His stance softened and he took a step back, seeming confused, although I still couldn't read his emotions. Why didn't he show any colors? He didn't seem drunk or high. And that red thing...what was that? It was hard not to stare at it. He finally looked over at Jay, who was deep in conversation with the manager-type man. “Not your boyfriend, eh?” He was smirking at me now. I looked away, refusing to answer. “Are you certain he doesn't fancy you?” Kaidan asked. I looked at him again. His smirk was now a naughty smile. “Yes,” I assured him with confidence. “I am.” “How do you know?” I couldn't very well tell him that the only time Jay's color had shown mild attraction to me was when I accidentally flashed him one day as I was taking off my sweatshirt, and my undershirt got pulled up too high. And even then it lasted only a few seconds before our embarrassment set in.

Noemy says, “I guess it’s just the idea of love I miss. And, well, it was a good kiss.” Her smile turns rueful. “At least I got some practice.” A wonderful idea occurs to Abel. “Do you need more practice?” “Huh?” “We could practice, if you wanted."He smiles as he starts to explain."Remember what I told you on Genesis? I’m programmed with a wide array of techniques for providing physical pleasure, via every activity from kissing to the more arcane positions for sexual intercourse. Although I’ve never performed any of them before, I’m confident I could do so very skillfully.” She stares at him, eyes wide. Since she is swift to voice objections if she has them, Abel takes her silence as an encouraging sign. So he sits up on the bed to explain the further compelling reasons now coming to mind. “Humans need a certain amount of physical release and comfort in order to be psychologicallly healthy. You’ve been away from your family and friends for some time, and have endured considerable trauma, suggesting you are in even greater need than usual. I have all the information and technique necessary to be an excellent partner, my body is designed to be appealing, and of course I can neither carry disease nor impregnate you. We have total privacy and many hours of spare time. Conditions for intercourse would seem to be ideal.

After deliberating my options for a split second, I rolled my chair over to watch him tattoo the guy he had hunched over, working on an old pirate ship right smack on the middle of the man’s brawny shoulder. I didn’t say a word as I watched him, not wanting to distract him from the man who had been all too excited to request Slim’s work an hour before. But my friend Slim had other thoughts. His green eyes flashed up at me. “What was that about?” "Huh?" I played stupid. Slim pulled the gun off the customer’s skin, dabbing at the beaded blood before continuing with a shake of his head. "Since when are you guys BFFs?" I’d learned over the last month how chatty all the guys were, well, specifically Slim and Blake. If I answered his question just remotely weird, I’d bet my first born Slim would jump to some kind of crazy conclusion that I wanted no part of. So I went with the truth. “I heard him fart last night. It kind of broke the ice.” The little whistle he let out told me that was good enough. He snorted and raised an eyebrow before getting back to work. “That’ll do it.

Jeremiah came over after a while. He sat on the edge of my chair and drank from my thermos of Kool-Aid. “She’s pretty,” I said. “Who? Yolie?” He shrugged. “She’s nice. One of my many admirers.” “Ha!” “So what about you? Cam Cameron, huh? Cam the vegetarian. Cam the straight edge.” I tried not to smile. “So what? I like him.” “He’s kind of a dork.” “That’s what I like about him. He’s…different.” He frowned slightly. “Different from who?” “I don’t know.” But I did know. I knew exactly who he was different from. “You mean he’s not a dick like Conrad?” I laughed, and so did he. “Yeah, exactly. He’s nice.” “Just nice, huh?” “More than nice.” “So you’re over him, then? For real?” We both knew the “him” he was talking about. “Yes,” I told him. “I don’t believe you,” Jeremiah said, watching me closely-just like when he was trying to figure out what kind of hand I had in Uno. I took off my sunglasses and looked him in the eye. “It’s true. I’m over him.” “We’ll see,” Jeremiah said, standing up. “My break’s over. Are you okay over here? Wait around and I’ll drive us home. I can put your bike in the back.” I nodded, and watched him walk back to the lifeguard chair. Jeremiah was a good friend. He’d always been good to me, watched out for me.

When they reached the table, Hannah started to introduce them. “Layla, this is Joe. Joe, this is—” “We’ve already met,” said Joseph, extending his hand and smiling. “Have we?” asked Layla, baffled. “Have you?” said Hannah. This was news to her. “Yeah, we have,” continued Joseph. “A couple of hours ago. On the road into the village. You tried to kill me, remember?” “Kill you?” gasped Layla. “You’re the biker? The one I knocked over?” “You knocked him over?” repeated Hannah in horror. “I didn’t mean to,” explained Layla quickly. “It was an accident. I was going to tell you about it. I just haven’t had the chance yet.” Turning to Joseph, Hannah asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” “Well,” he replied somberly, “apart from my right arm, which I’m not sure is going to be of much use to me ever again, I’m fine.” As Layla’s jaw dropped open, he added quickly, “I’m joking. Really, it’s just a joke. I’m fine.” “Right, well, in that case,” Hannah continued, “as I was saying, Layla, this is Joseph Scott. Joe, this is Layla Lewis, your would-be killer, next door neighbor, and my best friend. She’s house-sitting whilst Lenny’s in Scotland.” “Next door neighbor, huh?” replied Joseph, taking a swig from his pint glass. “That could prove interesting.

When he got out, I rolled my window down. “You look like you’re going to throw up.” He grimaced, pressing a hand to his stomach. “I don’t know if it’s from this, or if I actually am sick. I think Avery got sick from the weekend. She was puking this morning when I left.” “Avery, huh? At your place?” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start.” “But you see, I have to. I have to start. Avery’s my friend. I’m hanging out with your brother. You and I are classmates. I think we can develop our friendship to the stage where I give you shit. We should even start sitting next to each other in class.” “Don’t press your luck.” I kept going, “It’s a natural progression. Don’t fight it, Marcus. It’s like evolution. Don’t fight evolution. You’ll never win. Mother nature is a bitch. She’s always going to win.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “How I get to give you shit. It’s an amazing experience in life, like giving birth. It’s painful for one person, but breathtaking for another. I’m the baby here. I get to feel air for the first time on my skin. Let me breathe, Marcus. Let me put my baby lungs to work and scream.” “I swear you’re making me even sicker.” “If you gotta puke, don’t suppress. It’s a natural body process.” He eyed me a moment. “Did you rhyme that on purpose?” “Maybe. Or I might be crazy?” I winked. “Or just a classy lady?” “Stop. I’m really going to puke now.” He groaned, pressing his arm against his forehead. “I was going to tease you back about Caden, but forget it. I don’t think I have the energy to deal with your rhyming.” “I’ve been told I’m amazing like that.” “Who told you that?” “Who hasn’t is the real question.” “You’re not making sense.” “I do that too. That’s very true.” I wondered if I should find him a bag, in case he actually was going to upchuck.

I arched a brow. “Something funny?” Her mouth formed a tight line. “Nope.” I approached her. “You sure?” Her gaze flicked to mine, then away. “Uh-huh.” “Okay, then.” I turned and headed over to grab the last of our things. “It’s just . . .” Eilish began and then trailed off. “Yes?” She shook her head and finally let her giggles flow free. I couldn’t help smiling, too, even though I wasn’t entirely sure an inconvenient hard-on warranted so much laughter. It was infectious all the same. She gestured to the retreating group of tourists. “I studied German at school, so I can pick out certain words. One of the women commented about you to her friend.” I smirked. “Oh yeah? What did she say?” She dabbed the wetness from the corners of her eyes. “Something along the lines of a bratwurst big enough to feed an army.” My smirk died. “I wish I hadn’t asked.” “Really? I thought men enjoyed compliments about that . . . particular area.” “They do. But armies are generally made up of a bunch of blokes.” I arched a brow meaningfully. A loud burst of laughter escaped her, and she clamped her hand over mouth. God, she was too fucking adorable. She sucked in a breath, finally calming down from her fit of giggles. “You’re too much, Bryan Leech.” “That’s what the German ladies think anyway,” I deadpanned, my smirk returning. Eilish burst into laughter all over again.

By the way,” Hadrian began, “what was the real reason you didn’t tell me?” “Huh?” “A bit ago you said—” “Oh.” Royce continued to study the walls. He seemed a little too preoccupied by them. Just as Hadrian was sure he would not answer, Royce said, “I didn’t want you to leave.” Hadrian almost laughed at the comment, thinking it was a joke, and then nearly bit his tongue. Thinking of Royce as anything but callous was difficult. Then he realized Royce never had a family and precious few friends. He had grown up an orphan on the streets of Ratibor, stealing his food and clothes and likely receiving his share of beatings for it. He had probably joined the Diamond as much from a desire to belong as a means to profit. After only a few short years, they had betrayed him. Hadrian realized at that moment that Royce did not see him as just his partner, but his family. Along with Gwen and perhaps Arcadius, Hadrian was the only one he had.

Do you always travel alone like that?” “Uh-huh.” “You enjoy solitude?” she asked, leaning her cheek on her hand. “Traveling alone, eating alone, sitting off by yourself in lecture halls …” “Nobody likes being alone that much. I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to disappointment.” The tip of one earpiece in her mouth, sunglasses dangling down, she mumbled, “‘Nobody likes being alone. I just hate to be disappointed.’ You can use that line if you ever write your autobiography.” “Thanks,” I said.

Rowan didn’t speak as she turned on her heel and strode to the door. Didn’t speak as she opened it, exited, and shut it behind her with a gentle click. Then he swiveled in his chair and leveled Sean with a dark glare. “What the hell just happened?” “That’s called a strikeout,” Sean said with a grin. “I’ve never seen you crash and burn like that, my friend.” “I know. Embarrassing is what it is. I mean, really.” Rowan tangled his fingers through his hair. “You got a better response than I did.” “Please, I got nothing, same as you.” Rowan offered him a sheepish smile. “I know. But I felt the heat pulsing off you the moment she stepped into the office. Then I saw the fantasies you were weaving about her and decided to throw you a bone. So you want her, huh?” Sean lost his grin but managed to shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Unless you picked up on her weaving fantasies about me?” A sigh. “Sorry. Her mind was a blank slate to me. I didn’t pick up on a single thought, emotion, or desire. It’s like she operates on a completely different frequency than the rest of the world.” She probably did, with all those wires and chips in her head. “Still,” Rowan continued, “we can call Bill and tell him you’re the one who should be—” “Nope.” The word burned his tongue, and he hated himself for saying it, but he didn’t take it back. Success was too important. “I don’t exactly inspire trust in the women I date. The opposite, in fact. Something about me makes people distrust every word and action.” His affiliation with the shadows, with darkness, most likely. They must have sensed it on some level. “You’re better at romancing and I’m better at killing.

Do you know why I remembered you?” he asked me suddenly. It was a question so out of nowhere that it took me a little while to figure out what he was talking about. “You mean from Latin Convention?” “Yeah.” “Was it my Coliseum model?” I was only half-joking. Steven had helped me build it; it had been pretty impressive. “No.” Cam ran his hand through his hair. He wouldn’t look at me. “It’s because I thought you were really pretty. Like, maybe the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.” I laughed. In the car, it sounded really loud. “Yeah, right. Nice try, Sextus.” “I mean it,” he insisted, his voice rising. “You’re making that up.” I didn’t believe it could be true. I didn’t want to let myself believe it. With the boys any compliment like this would always be the first part of a joke. He shook his head, lips tight. He was offended that I didn’t believe him. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. I just didn’t see how it could be true. It was almost mean of him to lie about it. I knew what I looked like back then, and I wasn’t the prettiest girl anybody had ever seen, not with my thick glasses and chubby cheeks and little-girl body. Cam looked me in the eyes then. “The first day, you wore a blue dress. It was, like, corduroy or something. It made your eyes look really blue.” “My eyes are gray,” I said. “Yes, but that dress made them look blue.” He looked so sweet, the way he watched me, waiting for my reaction. His cheeks were flushed peach. I swallowed hard and said, “Why didn’t you come up to me?” He shrugged. “You were always with your friends. I watched you that whole week, trying to get up the nerve. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the bonfire that night. Pretty bizarre, huh?” Cam laughed, but he sounded embarrassed. “Pretty bizarre,” I echoed. I couldn’t believe he’d noticed me. With Taylor by my side, who would have even bothered to look at me? “I almost messed up my Catullus speech on purpose, so you’d win,” he said, remembering. He inched a little closer to me. “I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. I reached out and touched his arm. My hand shook. “I wish you had come up to me.” That’s when he dipped his head low and kissed me. I didn’t let go of the door handle. All I could think was, I wish this had been my first kiss.

Christ, I’m tired. I need sleep. I need peace. I need for my balls to not be so blue they’re practically purple. As purple as Sarah Von Titebottum’s— My mind comes to a screeching halt with the unexpected thought. And the image that accompanies it—the odd, blushing lass with her glasses and her books and very tight bottom. Sarah’s not a contestant on the show, so I’m willing to bet both my indigo balls that there’s not a camera in her room. And, I can’t believe I’m fucking thinking this, but, even better—none of the other girls will know where to find me—including Elizabeth. I let the cameras noisily track me to the lavatory, but then, like an elite operative of the Secret Intelligence Service, I plaster myself to the wall beneath their range and slide my way out the door. Less than five minutes later, I’m in my sleeping pants and a white T-shirt, barefoot with my guitar in hand, knocking on Sarah’s bedroom door. I checked the map Vanessa gave me earlier. Her room is on the third floor, in the corner of the east wing, removed from the main part of the castle. The door opens just a crack and dark brown eyes peer out. “Sanctuary,” I plead. Her brow crinkles and the door opens just a bit wider. “I beg your pardon?” “I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours. My best friend’s girlfriend is trying to praying-mantis me and the sound of the cameras following me around my room is literally driving me mad. I’m asking you to take me in.” And she blushes. Great. “You want to sleep in here? With me?” I scoff. “No, not with you—just in your room, love.” I don’t think about how callous the words sound—insulting—until they’re out of my mouth. Could I be any more of a dick? Thankfully, Sarah doesn’t look offended. “Why here?” she asks. “Back in the day, the religious orders used to give sanctuary to anyone who asked. And since you dress like a nun, it seemed like the logical choice.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Somebody just fucking shoot me and be done with it. Sarah’s lips tighten, her head tilts, and her eyes take on a dangerous glint. I think Scooby-Doo put it best when he said, Ruh-roh. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right—you need my help?” “Correct.” “You need shelter, protection, sanctuary that only I can give?” “Yes.” “And you think teasing me about my clothes is a wise strategy?” I hold up my palms. “I never said I was wise. Exhausted, defenseless, and desperate.” I pout . . . but in a manly kind of way. “Pity me.” A smile tugs at her lips. And that’s when I know she’s done for. With a sigh, she opens the door wide. “Well, it is your castle. Come in.” Huh. She’s right—it is my castle. I really need to start remembering that

She was especially taken with Matt. Until he said, “It’s time to fess up, hon. Tell Trace how much you care. You’ll feel better when you do.” Climbing up the ladder, Chris said, “Better sooner than later.” He nodded at the hillside behind them. “Because here comes Trace, and he doesn’t look happy.” Both Priss and Matt turned, Priss with anticipation, Matt with tempered dread. Dressed in jeans and a snowy-white T-shirt, Trace stalked down the hill. Priss shielded her eyes to better see him. When he’d left, being so guarded about his mission, she’d half wondered if he’d return before dinner. Trace wore reflective sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his entire demeanor—heavy stride, rigid shoulders, tight jaw—bespoke annoyance. As soon as he was close enough, Priss called out, “What’s wrong?” Without answering her, Trace continued onto the dock. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of . . . Matt. Backing up to the edge of the dock, Matt said, “Uh . . . Hello?” Trace didn’t say a thing; he just pushed Matt into the water. Arms and legs flailing out, Matt hit the surface with a cannonball effect. Stunned, Priss shoved his shoulder. “What the hell, Trace! Why did you do that?” Trace took off his sunglasses and looked at her, all of her, from her hair to her body and down to her bare toes. After working his jaw a second, he said, “If you need sunscreen, ask me.” Her mouth fell open. Of all the nerve! He left her at Dare’s, took off without telling her a damn thing and then had the audacity to complain when a friend tried to keep her from getting sunburned. “Maybe I would have, if you’d been here!” “I’m here now.” Emotions bubbled over. “So you are.” With a slow smile, Priss put both hands on his chest. The shirt was damp with sweat, the cotton so soft that she could feel every muscle beneath. “And you look a little . . . heated.” Trace’s beautiful eyes darkened, and he reached for her. “A dip will cool you down.” Priss shoved him as hard as she could. Taken by surprise, fully dressed, Trace went floundering backward off the end of the dock. Priss caught a glimpse of the priceless expression of disbelief on Trace’s face before he went under the water. Excited by the activity, the dogs leaped in after him. Liger roused himself enough to move out of the line of splashing. Chris climbed up the ladder. “So that’s the new game, huh?” He laughed as he scooped Priss up into his arms. “Chris!” She made a grab for his shoulders. “Put me down!” “Afraid not, doll.” Just as Trace resurfaced, Chris jumped in with her. They landed between the swimming dogs. Sputtering, her hair in her face and her skin chilled from the shock of the cold water, Priss cursed. Trace had already waded toward the shallower water off the side of the dock. His fair hair was flattened to his head and his T-shirt stuck to his body. “Wait!” Priss shouted at him. He was still waist-deep as he turned to glare at her. Kicking and splashing, Priss doggy-paddled over to him, grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Startled, Trace scooped her bottom in his hands and struggled for balance on the squishy mud bottom of the lake. “What the hell?” And then lower, “You look naked in this damn suit.” Matt and Chris found that hilarious. Priss looked at Trace’s handsome face, a face she loved, and kissed him. Hard. For only a second, he allowed the sensual assault. He even kissed her back. Then he levered away from her. “You ruined my clothes, damn it.” “Only because you were being a jealous jerk.” His expression dark, he glared toward Matt. Christ started humming, but poor Matt said, “Yeah,” and shrugged. “If you think about it, you’ll agree that you sort of were—and we both know there’s no reason.

Lobsang sighed. ‘But I think I need you too, Joshua. I often think back to our days together on the Mark Twain.’ ‘Watched any old movies recently?’ ‘That’s another thing about Agnes. She won’t let me show any movies that don’t have nuns in.’ ‘Wow. That’s brutal.’ ‘Something else that’s good for me, she says. Of course there aren’t that many movies that qualify, and we watch them over and over.’ He shuddered. ‘Don’t talk to me about Two Mules for Sister Sara. But the musicals are the worst. Although Agnes says that the freezer-raiding scene in Sister Act is an authentic detail from convent life.’ ‘Well, that’s a consolation. Musicals with nuns in, huh . . .’ A voice rang out across the park, a voice Joshua remembered only too well from his own past. ‘Lobsang? Time to come in now. Your little friend will keep until tomorrow . . .’ ‘She has loudhailers everywhere.’ Lobsang shouldered his rake and sighed as they trudged across the grass. ‘You see what I’m reduced to? To think I hired forty-nine hundred monks to chant for forty-nine days on forty-nine mountain tops in stepwise Tibets, for this.’ Joshua clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s tough, Lobsang. She’s treating you like you’re a kid. Like you’re sixteen, going on seventeen.’ Lobsang looked at him sharply. ‘You can pack that in for a start,’ he snapped. ‘But I’ve got confidence you can overcome these difficulties, Lobsang. Just face up to every obstacle. Climb every mountain—’ Lobsang stalked off sulkily. Joshua waved cheerfully. ‘So long! Farewell!

In Broadway, I suddenly found myself face to face with William de la Touche Clancey. "Well!" A long drawn-out syllable, in which fear and condescension were unpleasantly mingled. "What is the young Old Patroon about to turn his hand to next?" "The Vauxhall Gardens, I should think." My dislike of Clancey is almost physical. Yet I stare at him with fascination; note that his protuberant eyes are yellowish; that he scratches himself compulsively; that his tongue darts in and out of his mouth like a lizard's catching flies. "Of the delicious nymphs you sport with there?" "Of the delicious fauns, too — and their goatish friends." "Uh-huh..." A long, drawn-out attempt at sounding amused failed of its object. "I hope you realize that your editor's unholy passion for the Negro grows more embarrassing each day. If I were he I should beware. He might simply vanish one dark night." "Murdered? Or sold into slavery?" Clancey recently delighted his admirers by proposing that since the institution of slavery has been an integral part of every high civilization (and peculiarly well-adapted to those nations that follow the word as well as the spirit of Old and New Testaments), poor whites should be bought and sold as well as blacks. "I don't believe that poor sick Mr. Leggett would command a high price in the bazaar. Only his diseased mind would have a certain morbid interest to the special collector. You, on the other hand, ought to fetch a pretty price." "More than the usual two dollars you pay?" Two dollars is the current rate for a male prostitute. "Much more! Why, just for those pink Dutch cheeks alone!" It would be nice to record that I thought to something terminal to say but in my rage I could think of absolutely nothing and so left him with the last word.

Are people really gonna buy it if we never touch each other in public?” Peter asks, looking skeptical. “I don’t think relationships are just about physicality. There are ways to show you care about someone, not just using your lips.” Peter’s smiling, and he looks like he’s about to crack a joke, so I swiftly add, “Or any other body part.” He groans. “You’ve gotta give me something here, Lara Jean. I have a reputation to uphold. None of my friends will believe I suddenly turned into a monk to date you. How about at least a hand in your back jean pocket? Trust me, it’ll be strictly professional.” I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that he cares way too much what people think about him. I just nod and write down, Peter is allowed to put a hand in Lara Jean’s back jean pocket. “But no more kissing,” I say, keeping my head down so he can’t see me blush. “You’re the one who started it,” he reminds me. “And also, I don’t have any STDs, so you can get that out of your head.” “I don’t think you have any STDs.” I look back up at him. “The thing is…I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never been on a real date before, or held hands walking down the hallway. This is all new for me, so I’m sorry about the forehead thing this morning. I just…wish all of these firsts were happening for real and not with you.” Peter seems to be thinking this over. He says, “Huh. Okay. Let’s just save some stuff, then.” “Yeah?” “Sure. We’ll have some stuff for you to do when it’s the real thing and not for show.” I’m touched. Who knew Peter could be so thoughtful and generous? “Like, I won’t pay for stuff. I’ll save that for a guy who really likes you.” My smile fades. “I wasn’t expecting you to pay for anything!” Peter’s on a roll. “And I won’t walk you to class or buy you flowers.” “I get the picture.” It seems to me like Peter’s less concerned about me and more concerned about his wallet. He sure is cheap.

Colby arrived the next day, with stitches down one lean cheek and a new prosthesis. He held it up as Cecily came out to the car to greet him. He held it up as Cecily came out to the car to greet him. “Nice, huh? Doesn’t it look more realistic than the last one?” “What happened to the last one?” she asked. “Got blown off. Don’t ask where,” he added darkly. “I know nothing,” she assured him. “Come on in. Leta made sandwiches.” Leta had only seen Colby once, on a visit with Tate. She was polite, but a little remote, and it showed. “She doesn’t like me,” Colby told Cecily when they were sitting on the steps later that evening. “She thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she said simply.” So does Tate.” “Why?” “Because I let him think I was,” she said bluntly. He gave her a hard look. “Bad move, Cecily.” “I won’t let him think I’m waiting around for him to notice me,” she said icily. “He’s already convinced that I’m in love with him, and that’s bad enough. I can’t have him know that I’m…well, what I am. I do have a little pride.” “I’m perfectly willing, if you’re serious,” he said matter-of-factly. His face broke into a grin, belying the solemnity of the words. “Or are you worried that I might not be able to handle it with one arm?” She burst out laughing and pressed affectionately against his side. “I adore you, I really do. But I had a bad experience in my teens. I’ve had therapy and all, but it’s still sort of traumatic for me to think about real intimacy.” “Even with Tate?” he probed gently. She wasn’t touching that line with a pole. “Tate doesn’t want me.” “You keep saying that, and he keeps making a liar of you.” “I don’t understand.” “He came to see me last night. Just after I spoke to you.” He ran his fingers down his damaged cheek. She caught her breath. “I thought you got that overseas!” “Tate wears a big silver turquoise ring on his middle right finger,” he reminded her. “It does a bit of damage when he hits people with it.” “He hit you? Why?” she exclaimed. “Because you told him we were sleeping together,” he said simply. “Honest to God, Cecily, I wish you’d tell me first when you plan to play games. I was caught off guard.” “What did he do after he hit you?” “I hit him, and one thing led to another. I don’t have a coffee table anymore. We won’t even discuss what he did to my best ashtry.” “I’m so sorry!” “Tate and I are pretty much matched in a fight,” he said. “Not that we’ve ever been in many. He hits harder than Pierce Hutton does in a temper.” He scowled down at her. “Are you sure Tate doesn’t want you? I can’t think of another reason he’d try to hammer my floor with my head.” “Big brother Tate, to the rescue,” she said miserably. She laughed bitterly. “He thinks you’re a bad risk.” “I am,” he said easily. “I like having you as my friend.” He smiled. “Me, too. There aren’t many people who stuck by me over the years, you know. When Maureen left me, I went crazy. I couldn’t live with the pain, so I found ways to numb it.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I came to my senses until you sent me to that psychologist over in Baltimore.” He glanced down at her. “Did you know she keeps snakes?” he added. “We all have our little quirks.

Once inside his office, Cade took a seat at his desk and resolved, as he had many times over the last two weeks, to focus on work. He managed to do a decent job of that, putting himself on autopilot until the end of the day, when a knock on his office door interrupted him. Vaughn stood in the doorway. “Thought I’d see if you want to grab a drink at O’Malley’s.” Cade rubbed his face, realizing that he’d been reading audio transcripts for hours. “Sure.” He blinked, and then cocked his head. “I didn’t realize you had any meetings here today.” “I didn’t.” Huh. “Then why are you here?” Vaughn shrugged. “I just figured you might, you know, need a drink.” Cade frowned. “Why would you th—” Then it dawned on him. “Oh, no. You and I are not doing this. We are not having this conversation.” The idea of him and Vaughn having some sort of best friend heart-to-heart about his relationship troubles was laughable at best. “You’ve been brooding for two weeks, Morgan. So yes, we are having this conversation.” “I appreciate it, Vaughn. Really. But no offense—you suck at this stuff as much as I do.” Vaughn tucked his hands into his pants pockets, not looking offended in the slightest. “Yep. And that’s why God made whiskey.

What did you just call him?” “Rufus is a stupid name,” she says with a shrug. I choke on air. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. What even is a Rufus anyway?” “A name,” I answer. “A manly name for a manly dog.” “He looks like vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. It had to be changed.” “You can’t just change a dog’s name. He’s eight months old. He likes his name. He knows it.” “Does he?” she asks, arching a brow. Jesus, she looks so much like her mother right now it’s almost scary. “Rufus.” I whistle. “Come here boy.” He lets out a whimper, but stays rooted in place, his eyes trained on the girl with the snacks. “Sprinkles, come.” Priss points to the floor. That traitor rises to all fours, looking more regal than Queen Elizabeth herself as he marches to her side. Man’s best friend, my ass. “Good boy,” she says, stuffing another treat into his mouth. “Sprinkles, sit.” He sits. “Shake,” she says, holding out her hand for his paw. “You taught him all of that in less than two hours?” “Uh-huh. Wasn’t hard. I watched some dog training videos.” “Let me guess, YouTube?” She grins. “Well, it worked.” “I see that.” “So…Sprinkles?” She steeples her hands in front of her face, poking out her lip for added drama. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how my beast of a dog became a pansy.

If you’re going to give me the third degree,” she tells him, “let’s get it over with. Best to withhold food or water; water is probably best. I’ll get thirsty before I get hungry.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you really think I’m like that? Why would you think that?” “I was taken by force, and you’re keeping me here against my will,” she says, leaning across the table toward him. She considers spitting in his face, but decides to save that gesture as punctuation for a more appropriate moment. “Imprisonment is still imprisonment, no matter how many layers of cotton you wrap it in.” That makes him lean farther away, and she knows she’s pushed a button. She remembers seeing those pictures of him back when he was all over the news, wrapped in cotton and kept in a bombproof cell. “I really don’t get you,” he says, a bit of anger in his voice this time. “We saved your life. You could at least be a little grateful.” “You have robbed me, and everyone here, of their purpose. That’s not salvation, that’s damnation.” “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Now it’s her turn to get angry. “Yes, you’re sorry I feel that way, everyone’s sorry I feel that way. Are you going to keep this up until I don’t feel that way anymore?” He stands up suddenly, pushing his chair back, and paces, fern leaves brushing his clothes. She knows she’s gotten to him. He seems like he’s about to storm out, but instead takes a deep breath and turns back to her. “I know what you’re going through,” he says. “I was brainwashed by my family to actually want to be unwound—and not just by my family, but by my friends, my church, everyone I looked up to. The only voice who spoke sense was my brother Marcus, but I was too blind to hear him until the day I got kidnapped.” “You mean see,” she says, putting a nice speed bump in his way. “Huh?” “Too blind to see him, too deaf to hear him. Get your senses straight. Or maybe you can’t, because you’re senseless.” He smiles. “You’re good.” “And anyway, I don’t need to hear your life story. I already know it. You got caught in a freeway pileup, and the Akron AWOL used you as a human shield—very noble. Then he turned you, like cheese gone bad.” “He didn’t turn me. It was getting away from my tithing, and seeing unwinding for what it is. That’s what turned me.” “Because being a murderer is better than being a tithe, isn’t that right, clapper?” He sits back down again, calmer, and it frustrates her that he is becoming immune to her snipes. “When you live a life without questions, you’re unprepared for the questions when they come,” he says. “You get angry and you totally lack the skills to deal with the anger. So yes, I became a clapper, but only because I was too innocent to know how guilty I was becoming.” ... “You think I’m like you, but I’m not,” Miracolina says. “I’m not part of a religious order that tithes. My parents did it in spite of our beliefs, not because of ii.” “But you were still raised to believe it was your purpose, weren’t you?” “My purpose was to save my brother’s life by being a marrow donor, so my purpose was served before I was six months old.” “And doesn’t that make you angry that the only reason you’re here was to help someone else?” “Not at all,” she says a little too quickly. She purses her lips and leans back in her chair, squirming a bit. The chair feels a little too hard beneath her. “All right, so maybe I do feel angry once in a while, but I understand why they did it. If I were them, I would have done the same thing.” “Agreed,” he says. “But once your purpose was served, shouldn’t your life be your own?” “Miracles are the property of God,” she answers. “No,” he says, “miracles are gifts from God. To calthem his property insults the spirit in which they are given.” She opens her mouth to reply but finds she has no response, because he’s right. Damn him for being right—nothing about him should be right! “We’ll talk again when you’re over yourself,” he says.

Furi leaned in, not quite coming into contact with Syn’s cheek and told him, “I gotta get to work.” Syn didn’t want him to go. He looked so beautiful, smelled so good. He needed to talk to him, maybe ask if Furi was seeing someone. “I have to go back to work too, but can I give you a ride home after your shift?” Syn had never felt so exposed. After he’d asked the question he immediately wanted to take it back. He’d never liked putting himself out there but this was what he needed to work on. He’d never get anywhere if he didn’t at least try. Furi stepped in closer to him and Syn fought his reflex to take a step back. Furi grabbed his wrist and moved him quickly through the customers waiting for the bathrooms and pushed open the back door that led to the parking lot. Syn quickly took in his surroundings before focusing back on Furi. “What’s wrong, why’d you bring me back here?” “What’s your angle, Detective? Why are you lingering around my job and offering me rides, huh?” Furi forced those questions through gritted teeth. “Why are you angry? It’s just a ride. I was trying to be nice,” Syn said with little conviction, while avoiding answering Furi’s questions. He didn’t have an angle and he wasn’t sure why he was drawn to him. He just wanted to be around this guy, if for nothing else then to at least be friends.

Look, you and I are in the same boat,” he said softly. “We’re loners in the crew. Unlike Bailey, we don’t want to hook-up for good. We just want to let off some steam. We could be friends with benefits.” “Fuck buddies, huh?” “I like your term better,” Vaughn said, giving a flash of anger at the men still eyeing us. “I might need to leave you, so I can kick their asses.” “I think I can manage without you.” “Was that a masturbation hint?” “No, but you bring up a very good point. I could blow off steam on my own.” Vaughn finished his beer then smiled. “I’ll give you oral. No vibrator in the world can say the same.” Holding his gaze, I was silent until finishing my beer. Finally, I gave Vaughn a smile and nodded. “One night of empty awesome sex. Tomorrow, we act like acquaintances, not even friends. I want to be someone you barely remember exists.” “No problem, gingersnap. Do you like Harleys? Mine really likes snuggling between a hot girl’s thighs.” “Stop while you’re ahead.” Standing up, Vaughn held out a hand. I ignored his gesture and stood up on my own. When I noticed the two guys still watching us, I flipped them off before taking Vaughn’s arm. “Like they ever had a chance,” I muttered and Vaughn’s smile grew. “Takes a special man to talk a girl out of abstinence.” “Whatever you need to tell yourself.

I was here. I was fine. It was a beautiful day, and I was around people who gave me more love and happiness in a month than I’d had for seventeen years. I would never have to see those jerks again. And today was going to be a good day, damn it. So I got it together and finally looked back down at my best friend to ask, “Did I tell you I stole a bottle of Visine once because I wanted to put a few drops into my dad’s coffee, but I always chickened out?” Lenny snickered. “No. Psycho. Did I tell you that one time I asked Santa to bring my mom back?” I made a face. “That’s sad, Lenny.” I blinked. “I pretty much did the same thing.” “Uh-huh.” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Did I ever tell you that I wanted to have like ten kids when I was younger?” The laugh that came out of her wasn’t as strong as it usually was, but I was glad she let it out anyway. It sounded just like her, loud and direct and so full of happiness it was literally infectious. “Ten? Jesus, why?” I wrinkled my nose at her. “It sounded like a good number.” The scoff that came out of her right then was a little louder. “You’re fucking nuts, Luna. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-ten?” “That’s what ten means.” I grinned at her. “I said that was back when I was younger, not any time recently. I can’t afford ten kids.” “Still. How about… none?” I glanced down the table again when I heard Thea’s sharp laugh. “Okay, Only Child.” I laughed. “I think four’s a good number now.” My friend beside me groaned before reaching forward to grab a chip, dipping it into the tiny bowl of guacamole beside it. “Look, Grandpa Gus was basically my brother, my dad, my uncle, and my grandpa all rolled into one, and I had a bunch of kids to play with,” she claimed. “Whatever makes you happy, but I think I’m fine with zero kids in my future.” I reached over and grabbed one of the pieces of fajita from her plate and plopped it into my mouth. “Watch, you’ll end up with two,” I told her, covering my mouth while I chewed the meat. “You’ve already got that ‘mom’ vibe going on better than anyone I know.” That had her rolling her eyes, but she didn’t argue that she didn’t, because we both knew it was true. She was a twenty-seven-year-old who dealt with full-grown man babies daily. She had it down. I was friends with my coworkers. Lenny was a babysitter for the ones she was surrounded with regularly. “Like you’re one to talk, bish,” she threw out in a grumpy voice that said she knew she couldn’t deny it. She had a point there. She picked up a piece of fajita and tossed it into her mouth before mumbling, “For the record, you should probably get started on lucky number four soon. You aren’t getting any younger.” I rolled my eyes, still chewing. “Bish.” “Bish.

Did Mama leave you all alone in here?" I picked her up out of bed and rubbed her back for a minute while she hiccuped. "Daddy's here," I murmured against her bald head, rocking her from side to side. "Let's get that wet diaper off you." I laid her on the bed and grabbed a diaper from the top of Kate's dresser, talking the whole time. "I don't know what your mommy was thinking, leaving my princess in here all alone," I crooned, my voice somehow keeping Iris calm. "She's outside with your brothers and sister and Daddy's friend Miles. He's a jackass. You stay away from him, okay?" I smiled as Iris froze, like she was listening intently. "Daddy was not very nice," I said, pulling her little pants down her legs and unbuttoning her onesie. "I wasn't even there when you were born, and I'm really sorry about that. But your mama came home with me anyway, so that means there's a chance, right? As long as Miles keeps his you-know-what in this pants." Iris lifted her hand to her face and tried really hard to get it to her mouth, her eyes unfocused as I babbled. "You're doing so good, princess. Look at you, not even crying while I change you. Such a big girl." I finished re-dressing her and pulled her to my chest. "You think your mama could love me again?" I asked, kissing her little cheek. "Probably not, huh? We'll just have to keep working at it so you can live with Daddy forever.

Syn pulled his boxers on and quietly left the bedroom, walking angrily to the kitchen. He turned the corner and wanted to throw a shit-fit at the sight before him. Day was standing at his stove loading some type of egg dish onto a plate before turning and setting it in front of God. God folded down one side of his newspaper, peering at Syn from behind it. “Well good morning, sunshine,” Day said way too cheerily for five-fucking-a.m. “We brought breakfast.” Syn clenched his jaw, trying not to yell at his superior officers. “Have you two lost your fuckin’ minds? Come on. It’s, it’s ... early.” Syn turned his wrist, forgetting he didn’t have his watch on yet. “Damn, you guys are always at the office, or at a crime scene, or over fucking here at god-awful hours.” “Oh, it’s early?” Day said disbelievingly. God shrugged like he hadn’t realized either. “Seriously. When the fuck do you guys sleep?” “Never,” God said nonchalantly. “When do you fuck?” Syn snapped. “Always,” Day quipped. “Just did thirty minutes ago. Nice couch by the way, real comfy, sorry for the stain.” Syn tiredly flipped Day off. “Don’t be pissed,” Day sing-songed. “A dab of Shout will get that right out.” Syn rubbed angrily at his tired eyes, growling, “Day.” “He’s not in a joking mood, sweetheart,” God said from behind his paper. “You know we didn’t fuck on your couch so calm the hell down. Damn you’re moody in the morning. Unless ... We weren’t interrupting anything, were we? So, how’s porn boy?” God’s gruff voice filled the kitchen, making Syn cringe. “First of all. Don’t fucking call him that, ever, and damnit God. Lower your voice. Shit. He’s still asleep,” Syn berated his Lieutenant, who didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by Syn’s irritation. “You guys could let him sleep, he’s had a rough night, ya know.” Day leaned his chest against God’s large back, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Oh damn, what kind of friends are we? It was rough, huh?” Day looked apologetic. “Yes, it was, Day. He just–” “Try water-based lube next time,” Day interrupted, causing God to choke on his eggs. “Day, fuck.” Syn tried not to grin, but when he thought about it, it really was funny. “I knew I’d get you to smile. Have some breakfast Sarge, we gotta go question the crazy chicks. You know how much people feel like sharing when they’ve spent a night in jail.” “Damn. Alright, just let me–” “Wow. Something smells great.” Furi’s deep voice reached them from down the hall as he made his way to the kitchen. “You cook babe? Who knew? I’ll have the Gladiator portion.” Furi used his best Roman accent as he sauntered into the kitchen with his hands on hips and his head high. Syn turned just as Furi noticed God and Day. “Oh, fuck, shit, Jesus Christ!” Furi stumbled, his eyes darting wildly between all of them. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” Furi looked at Syn trying to gauge exactly how much he’d fucked up just now. Syn smiled at him and Furi immediately lost the horrified expression. Syn held his hand out and mouthed to him 'it's okay.

Eena worried to Ian in her thoughts. (You’re not going to let him walk away thinking what I think he’s thinking, are you?) (You won't change his mind. The evidence is a little suggestive. You should have just stayed behind me.) (Oh, this is all my fault?) (Well, you were the one swimming in your underwear.) (And you’re the one who took your shirt off!) (You think the alternative would have been better?) She shuttered at the thought of the Braetic stumbling across her in her underclothes. “Cale,” Eena said in another attempt to convince the stranger. Somehow she managed to sidestep Ian’s effort to halt her, and she approached the man. “I am not messing around with my protector. I am, and always have been, true and faithful to Derian. It’s just……a lot of weird things have happened lately.” The Braetic looked willing to consider a good excuse. “Such as?” “Well,” she started, casting a furtive glance at Ian. He was shaking his head, conveying strong disapproval. She ignored him. “Okay, well…..I’ve been fighting these immortals who are bent on using me to break free from an imprisoning gem where they were sentenced to stayed locked up for eternity. They nearly annihilated a world of Viiduns—that’s how awful they are! But one of these immortals has control over my necklace, and her brother keeps transporting me and my protector all over Moccobatra in search of pieces to a star-shaped platform they intend to use to free their bodies which have been trapped for over three-thousand years now. We were sent here at an inopportune—and highly embarrassing—moment to find the final piece to the platform. It’s been a nightmare just trying to stay alive!” “Wow,” Cale breathed, not looking half as concerned as Eena thought he ought to. “So these immortals are using you and trying to kill you at the same time?” She shook her head. “No, no, only the dragons are trying to kill me…or they were trying to kill me until Naga put a stop to them.” Eena heard Ian’s hand smack against his forehead. She saw humor sweep over the Braetic’s face. It made her angry. “Dragons too, huh?” Cale snickered. “It’s the truth!” she insisted. (Eena, just forget it. You’re only making it worse.) She ignored her protector’s advice again. “Cale, I’m telling you the honest-to-goodness truth. Do you know the story of Wanyaka Cave? The red-gemmed prison and the two spirit sisters?” Completely out of patience, Ian broke into the conversation, rudely speaking over his queen. “We’ll be on our way now, sir. We apologize for trespassing.” With a big grin on his face, the Braetic offered a friendly alternative. “Why don’t the pair of you accompany me home. I’m sure my wife can round up some suitable clothing for you. Those immortals must have a ripe sense of humor, leaving you alone in the woods without any decent attire.” He caught a chuckle in his throat. “That is unless it was the dragons who took the shirt off your back.” “Dragons are immortals!” Eena snapped, as if any fool ought to know it. Ian flashed her a harsh look. “We would greatly appreciate the help, sir.” “Oh, it’ll cost you something,” Cale informed them, “but we can discuss that on our way.

He reached a finger toward the Seiko, which now proclaimed the time to be ninety-one minutes past seven--A.M. and P.M.--and pulled it back just before touching the glass above the liquid crystal display. "Tell me, dear boy--is this 'watch' of yours boobyrigged?" "Huh? Oh! No. No, it's not boobyrigged." Jake touched his own finger to the face of the watch. "That means nothing, if it's set to the frequency of your own body," the Tick-Tock Man said. He spoke in the sharp, scornful tone Jake's father used when he didn't want people to figure out that he didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about. Tick-Tock glanced briefly at Brandon, and Jake saw him weigh the pros and cons of making the bowlegged man his designated toucher. Then he dismissed the notion and looked back into Jake's eyes. "If this thing gives me a shock, my little friend, you're going to be choking to death on your own sweetmeats in thirty seconds." Jake swallowed hard but said nothing. The Tick-Tock Man reached out his finger again, and this time allowed it to settle on the face of the Seiko. The moment that it did, all the numbers went to zeros and then began to count upward again. Tick-Tock's eyes had narrowed in a grimace of potential pain as he touched the face of the watch. Now their corners crinkled in the first genuine smile Jake had seen from him. He thought it was partly pleasure at his own courage but mostly simple wonder and interest. "May I have it?" he asked Jake silkily. "As a gesture of your goodwill, shall we say? I am something of a clock fancier, my dear young cully--so I am." "Be my guest." Jake stripped the watch off his arm at once and dropped in onto the Tick-Tock Man's large waiting palm.

Coney Island Baby" You know, man, when I was a young man in high school You believe in or not, that I wanted to play football for the coach All those older guys, they said he was mean and cruel But you know, I wanted to play football, for the coach They said I was to little too light weight to play line-back So I say I'm playing right-in Wanted to play football for the coach Cause, you know some day, man, you gotta stand up straight Unless you're gonna fall Then you're gonna die And the straightest dude I ever knew Was standing right for me, all the time So I had to play football for the coach And I wanted to play football for the coach When you're all alone and lonely in your midnight hour And you find that your soul, it has been up for sale And you getting to think about, all the things you done And you getting to hate just about everything But remember the princess who lived on the hill Who loved you even though she knew you was wrong And right now she just might come shining through and the glory of love, glory of love Glory of love, just might come through And all your two-bit friends have gone and ripped you off They're talking behind your back saying, man you are never going to be a human being And you start thinking again About all those things that you've done And who it was and who it was And all the different things you made every different scene Ah, but remember that the city is a funny place Something like a circus or a sewer And just remember, different people have peculiar tastes And the Glory of love, the glory of love The glory of love, might see you through Yeah, but now, now Glory of love, the glory of love The glory of love, might see you through Glory of love, ah, huh, huh, the glory of love Glory of love, glory of love Glory of love, now, glory of love, now Glory of love, now, now, now, glory of love Glory of love, give it to me now, glory of love see you through Oh, my Coney Island baby, now (I'm a Coney Island baby, now) I'd like to send this one out for Lou and Rachel And the Lord appeared and he has one made of two Coney Island baby Man, I swear, I'd give the whole thing up for you Lou Reed, Coney Island Baby (1975)

I've got the kids in my room," she explained, while Jubal strove to keep up with her, "so that Honey Bun can watch them." Jubal was mildly startled to see, a moment later, what Patricia meant by that. The boa was arranged on one of twin double beds in squared-off loops that formed a nest - a twin nest, as one bight of the snake had been pulled across to bisect the square, making two crib-sized pockets, each padded with a baby blanket and each containing a baby. The ophidian nursemaid raised her head inquiringly as they came in. Patty stroked it and said, "It's all right, dear. Father Jubal wants to see them. Pet her a little, and let her grok you, so that she will know you next time." First Jubal coochey-cooed at his favorite girl friend when she gurgled at him and kicked, then petted the snake. He decided that it was the handsomest specimen of Bojdae he had ever seen, as well as the biggest - longer, he estimated, than any other boa constrictor in captivity. Its cross bars were sharply marked and the brighter colors of the tail quite showy. He envied Patty her blue-ribbon pet and regretted that he would not have more time in which to get friendly with it. The snake rubbed her head against his hand like a cat. Patty picked up Abby and said, "Just as I thought. Honey Bun, why didn't you tell me?"- then explained, as she started to change diapers, "She tells me at once if one of them gets tangled up, or needs help, or anything, since she can't do much for them herself - no hands - except nudge them back if they try to crawl out and might fall. But she just can't seem to grok that a wet baby ought to be changed - Honey Bun doesn't see anything wrong about that. And neither does Abby." "I know. We call her 'Old Faithful.' Who's the other cutie pie?" "Huh? That's Fatima Michele, I thought you knew." "Are they here? I thought they were in Beirut!" "Why, I believe they did come from some one of those foreign parts. I don't know just where. Maybe Maryam told me but it wouldn't mean anything to me; I've never been anywhere. Not that it matters; I grok all places are alike - just people. There, do you want to hold Abigail Zenobia while I check Fatima?" Jubal did so and assured her that she was the most beautiful girl in the world, then shortly thereafter assured Fatima of the same thing. He was completely sincere each time and the girls believed him - Jubal had said the same thing on countless occasions starting in the Harding administration, had always meant it and had always been believed. It was a Higher Truth, not bound by mundane logic. Regretfully he left them, after again petting Honey Bun and telling her the same thing, and just as sincerely.

Two fifty-five. It’s go time.” Chris unlocks the doors and gets out and hides behind an oak tree in the yard. My adrenaline is pumping as I hop out of Chris’s car, grab Kitty’s bike out of her trunk, and push it a few houses. Then I set it on the ground and drape myself over it in a dramatic heap. Then I pull out the bottle of fake blood I bought for this very purpose and squirt some on my jeans--old jeans I’ve been planning on giving to Goodwill. As soon as I see Trevor’s car approaching, I start to pretend sob. From behind the tree Chris whispers, “Tone it down a little!” I immediately stop sobbing and start moaning. Trevor’s car pulls up beside me. He rolls down the window. “Lara Jean? Are you okay?” I whimper. “No…I think I might have sprained my ankle. It really hurts. Can you give me a ride home?” I’m willing myself to tear up, but it’s harder to cry on cue than I would have thought. I try to think about sad things--the Titanic, old people with Alzheimer’s, Jamie Fox-Pickle dying--but I can’t focus. Trevor regards me suspiciously. “Why are you riding your bike in this neighborhood?” Oh no, I’m losing him! I start talking fast but not too fast. “It’s not my bike; it’s my little sister’s. She’s friends with Sara Healey. You know, Dan Healey’s little sister? They live over there.” I point to their house. “I was bringing it to her--oh my God, Trevor. Do you not believe me? Are you seriously not going to give me a ride?” Trevor looks around. “Do you swear this isn’t a trick?” Gotcha! “Yes! I swear I don’t have your name, okay? Please just help me up. It really hurts.” “First show me your ankle.” “Trevor! You can’t see a sprained ankle!” I whimper and make a show of trying to stand up, and Trevor finally turns the car off and gets out. He stoops down and pulls me to my feet and I try to make my body heavy. “Be gentle,” I tell him. “See? I told you I didn’t have your name.” Trevor pulls me up by my armpits, and over his shoulder Chris creeps up behind him like a ninja. She dives forward, both hands out, and claps them on his back hard. “I got you!” she screams. Trevor shrieks and drops me, and I narrowly escape falling for real. “Damn it!” he yells. Gleefully Chris says, “You’re done, sucker!” She and I high-five and hug. “Can you guys not celebrate in front of me?” he mutters. Chris holds her hand out. “Now gimme gimme gimme.” Sighing, Trevor shakes his head and says, “I can’t believe I fell for that, Lara Jean.” I pat him on the back. “Sorry, Trevor.” “What if I had had your name?” he asks me. “What would you have done then?” Huh. I never thought of that. I shoot Chris an accusing glare. “Wait a minute! What if he had had my name?” “That was a chance we were willing to take,” she says smoothly.

Mark swings his own door open and meets us by the tailgate. "Why don't we ask Emma who she's coming with? I mean, it's her choice, right?" The look Galen gives me is clear: Take care of this, or I will. Or maybe it's more like, It would be my pleasure to take care of this. Either way, I don't want Mark taken care of. Standing between them, the testosterone-to-air ratio is almost suffocating. If I pick Galen, the chances of Mark ever calling me again are as good as Galen eating a whole cheesecake by himself. If I choose Mark, the changes of Galen not wielding his built-in brass knuckles are as good as Rayna giving someone a compliment. My desire to salvage this date with Mark is almost as strong as my desire to salvage his face from certain disfigurement. But salvaging the date as opposed to his face would be selfish in the long run. I sigh in defeat. "I'm sorry, Mark." Mark lets out a gust of air. "Ouch." Scratching the back of his neck, he chuckles. "I guess I should be more superstitious, huh?" He's right. I screwed this up. I should have salvaged the date, his pride. And I should have broken Galen's Royal nose with my own Syrena fist. I turn to His Highness. "Galen, could you give me a minute please? You'll have the next hour to talk to me since you're taking me straight home." Without a word, Galen nods and walks away. I can't quite meet Mark's eyes when I say, "I'm so sorry. I don't know what his deal is. He never acts like this." Except that time he beat Toraf like a stepchild on the beach when he kissed me. But only because Toraf betrayed Rayna. Right? Mark smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Can't say I blame him. I can already tell you're worth it. I just never had the guts to ask you out. Chloe threatened my life. You know that chick could hit like a man, right? She said you were too good for me. I think she was right." "Wh...what? Chloe knew you liked me?" "Yeah. She never told you? Course not. She thought I was a player." I not, still too stunned that my best friend also acted as my bodyguard without me knowing. "She did think you were a player. And she couldn't definitely hit like a man." "That's what my friend Jax says anyway." Then a little lower, "Geez, Galen's watching me like a hawk right now. He has serial-killer eyes, you know that?" I giggle. "What do you think he'd do if I kissed you good-bye on the cheek?" he whispers conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I'll protect you." He has no idea how serious I am. As he leans in, I brace myself. At the slightest spark of electricity, I'm prepared to turn around with my fists up. But the lightning doesn't strike. Galen is behaving for now. As Mark pulls away from his barely there peck, he sighs. "Do me a favor," he whispers. "Mmm?" "Keep my number. Give me a call if he screws up again." I smile. "I will, I promise. I had a good time tonight." Did the date and Mark's face get salvaged? Do I have a chance to redeem myself with him? He chuckles. "Yeah, glad we got to drive here from Middle Point together. next time, we'll make it a real adventure and take the bus. See you at school, Emma." "Bye.

Snacks? What kind of snacks?” I asked. “Something called chips, which are made from potatoes, and different kinds of candies.” “Oh, you’re gonna sell candy, too?” “Yeah, but totally different from the candy shop.” “I see.” “I hope you’ll come by for the grand opening.” “When is it?” “Hopefully, next week. I’ll let you know.” I nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to make it, Tes.” “Cool. Thank you. Alright, I’m going to get some more food,” he said and left. A few minutes later, Maky got on the microphone and announced that the dancing portion of the night was going to start soon. “Woohoo! It’s dancing time,” said Arthur excitedly. “You know who I’m going to ask to dance with me?” “Who?” I asked. “Autumn,” answered Pierce. “Yup! Hopefully, she’ll agree.” “What about you, Pierce? Are you gonna ask anyone to dance?” “Um, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just dance by myself or with a group of friends,” the knight answered. “Cool…” I said sadly because I felt a little bit left out. “Or you know, maybe I’ll just hang out with you.” “Naw, I’m fine. You don’t have to keep me company.” Then suddenly, music started playing from the speakers that were set up at all the four corners of the city square. “Oh, here we go! I’ll be back later,” said Arthur as he took off to find Autumn. As the music played, I looked around for Maky’s band, but they were nowhere in sight. “Hm. This music must be coming from the jukebox,” I said. “Yeah, I don’t think Maky is playing tonight,” said Pierce. “She’s not? Why not? They’re super good.” “I don’t know, Steve.” “Hm. Oh, look. People are starting to take to the dance floor.” Slowly, a couple of villagers made their way toward the center of the city square. They were nervous about being the first ones, but soon after, many others followed their lead. Before I knew it, there were a ton of villagers in the middle, jumping up and down and dancing to the music. “That looks like fun…” I said. “Yeah…” said Pierce. “You should go join them.” “N-nah. I like sitting here.” Right when Pierce said that, someone came by and grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. “Come on, Pierce, let’s show them how it’s done,” said Leila. “B-but I’m not that good!” said Pierce. I tried my best to smile and said, “Have fun…” With my fake smile on, I watched as Pierce was dragged into the middle. Leila had stolen my only company away from me, and that made me feel super left out. I sighed and thought to myself, I wish I was out of this chair already. But I knew I didn’t have a choice, so I just sat in my chair and nodded along to the music. A few minutes later, the first song ended and the next one came on. I just continued sitting there while watching my friends have fun. In the middle, I could see Arthur dancing with Autumn, Cindy dancing with Arceus, and Leila dancing with Pierce. Shortly after, someone came by to talk to me. “Hey, Steve! How ya doing?” Maky asked while breathing hard. “Maky? Why aren’t you playing tonight?” I asked. “Oh, because I wanted to dance and have fun tonight. I mean, playing my instrument is fun, too, but dancing is a different kind of fun.” “I see.” “So, what are you doing over here? You don’t want to join the fun?” “Uh, there’s not much fun to be had when I’m stuck in a wheel chair.” “Oh, that’s nonsense!” Then she ran behind my chair, tilted it slightly backwards and pushed me off toward the middle of the dance floor. “Whoa! What are you doing?!” “We’re going to dance!” “Huh?!

What's this?" I asked, putting her cup on the counter next to the plate. "Rocky Road Bars," she supplied with a shrug. "Is that some kind of message?" I asked, head dipped. "Message?" she asked, her brows drawing together and proving that it wasn't. "Never mind," I said, shaking my head, feeling a small wave of relief even if she was standing there wound like a clock for some untold reason. Maybe that was the reason that when she shrugged at me and went to reach for her coffee, I reached over the counter, snagged her chin in my thumb and forefinger and leaned in to lick a small bit of chocolate from beside her lips from where she had smudged it. Her entire body stiffened then trembled at the contact. It was all the encouragement I needed. So right there, a dozen eyes no doubt on us, I framed her face in my hands and pressed my lips to hers. There was nothing sweet or chaste about it. I fucking devoured her mouth, my tongue moving to invade, drawing a quiet whimper from her as her hands slammed down on the counter. The sound was enough to remind me that I couldn't take it any further right then and there and better stop before either of us got too worked up. But as I pulled away and her eyes fluttered open and all I could see was a deep desire there, I knew she was a little bit more worked up than I intended. There were a couple chuckles and one brave soul let out a loud whistle as we pulled apart, making my smile tip up slightly, knowing I had just, whether I truly intended it or not, staked a claim. I let the whole town know that I was messing around with one of their favorite daughters. "I hate you right now," she said, her voice airy, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen. "No you don't," I countered, shaking my head. "You just hate that you can't climb over this counter and let me fuck you right here and now. Don't worry, you can have me all to yourself in just a couple of hours. If you can control yourself until then..." "Control myself," she hissed, both looking slightly outraged and equally amused. "I believe you were the one half-mauling me in public." "And I'm pretty sure it was your tongue moving over mine and your whimper I heard, right? Or was that Old Mildred. Hey, Milly..." I started to call, making Maddy's eyes bulge comically as she slammed her hand into my shoulder hard enough to send me back a foot. "Shut up!" she hissed, making me let out a chuckle. "Alright fine. You made your point," she said, shaking her head as she reached for her coffee. "What was my point, exactly?" I asked, curious. "You just like... marked your territory or whatever," she said, rolling her eyes at the very idea, but a small smile pulled at her lips. "So, what, you're mine now?" "Oh, I, well... I thought..." she fumbled, shaking her head at her lack of explanations. "Relax, sweetheart," I said, saving her from her misery. "Like I said last night, I'm in. You were the one who came in all anti-social this morning." "That had nothing to do with you," she informed me, looking almost pained. "Alice?" "My mom needs to find some friends to talk to about sex, Brant. I can't take it. I can't," she said, looking horrified. "I thought I was a cool, mature, experienced, metropolitan woman. But when your mom starts talking about blowjobs, it makes you really, really want to stick your fingers in your ears and scream 'I'm not hearing this, I'm not hearing this' until she shuts up." "Traumatized for life, huh?" "He's coming over tonight. Did I mention that part? He's coming to dinner and then, ah, staying the night. Because apparently it's... serious. Do they still sell earplugs at the pharmacy? I think I might actually die if I have to listen to them doing it.'' I laughed at that, finding myself charmed by her embarrassment. "Tell you what, why don't you come to my place for dinner.

You don’t sound too happy about going tonight. Did Eddie say something again? I thought he got the message that you weren’t really interested in him.” “No.” I untangled the phone cord. “I was just missing being home. And as for Eddie, I don’t know anymore. He is nice.” “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you like Eddie? The boy who has had a crush on you from the first day of school, and who you’ve basically ignored all this time?” I could hear the excitement in Jennifer’s voice. I started to blush. “He’s just so sweet and funny.” “Uh-huh . . . a-a-a-and?” “And nothing. Eddie and I are just friends. Plus, neither you or I can date until we’re sixteen, remember?” “But would you date him in November?” “I don’t know.” I giggled. “Ooh, this is so good!” she squealed. “Does Eddie suspect that you like him?” “NO! I’m not sure what I feel. Besides, I’d die if he found out, so don’t say anything.” Jennifer laughed. “You know I wouldn’t. But how great it would be if you and I could double-date next year! You with Eddie and me with Nathan. They’re best friends and we’re best friends.” “I thought you said Nathan Dixon was a moron?” “But he’s a very cute moron!

Dude, you missed it!” Zeke is wide-eyed, concerned. “The only jobs left by the end were the gross jobs, like scrubbing toilets! Where were you?” “It’s fine,” I say as I carry my tray back to our table near the doors. Shauna is there with her little sister, Lynn, and Lynn’s friend Marlene. When I first saw them there, I wanted to turn around and leave immediately--Marlene is too cheerful for me even on a good day--but Zeke had already seen him, so it was too late. Behind us, Uriah jobs to catch up, his plate loaded with more food than he can possibly pack into his stomach. “I didn’t miss anything--Max came to see me earlier.” As we take our seats at the table, under one of the bright-blue lamps that hang from the wall, I tell him about Max’s offer, careful not to make it sound too impressive. I only just found friends; I don’t want to create jealous tension between us for no reason. When I finish, Shauna leans her face into one of her hands and says to Zeke, “I guess we should have tried harder during initiation, huh?” “Or killed him before he could take his final test.” “Or both.

Willie wrote one asking her when she was going to meet him at the barn. At the bottom of the note, he drew a really neat spider in a web. Then he folded the sheet up small, addressed it, and passed it to the kid next to him. Milton was sitting along the postal route. The note got to him just as Mrs. Tealso stepped out of the room to talk to the teacher across the hall. Willie couldn’t believe it when he saw Milton unfolding the note. “Hey, Marla,” Milton said loud enough to get the whole class’s attention. “Willie wants to know if you’ll meet him in the barn. Will ya, huh?” Boys hooted as if the question meant something dirty. When Willie saw Marla cringing in her seat, he went berserk. He hurdled a desk and jumped Milton to grab the note away from him, but Milton turned and hunched over so that Willie found himself hoisted onto Milton’s back with his feet off the ground. Just then Mrs. Tealso returned. She caught Willie clinging to Milton as if he were stuck midway in a leapfrog game. “Willie Feldman! What has gotten into you? Step outside in the hall and stay there until I finish taking attendance.” Out in the hall, Willie leaned against the door, which Mrs. Tealso had firmly shut behind him. Some friend Milton was turning out to be! Boy, would Willie be in trouble if Dad heard about this. The instant Mrs. Tealso gave him a chance, before she could decide it was all his fault, Willie had better spit out a convincing explanation.

Six Simple Listening Tips Here are six simple tips for not only practicing good listening in your customer conversations but also for creating a high-impact customer experience by showing them that you’re engaged. 1. Don’t speak: This is easy to say but sometimes hard to do. You simply cannot listen if you’re speaking or poised on the edge of interrupting the other person. So what should you do? Just shut up and pay attention to what your customer is saying. 2. Make eye contact: Since a majority of our communication is non-verbal, looking at a person is one of the best ways to clearly demonstrate focus and attention. Even when you’re on a video call, customers can often tell (by the way your eyes dart around) if you’re looking at them on the screen or if you are distracted. Keep that gaze locked! (But a nice, friendly gaze… not a creepy one.) 3. Use visual/auditory cues: Smiling, nodding, and appearing pensive are all great ways to communicate understanding and acknowledgment. Even small auditory cues like the occasional “yes” or “uh-huh” can show your customer that you’re following along. 4. Write things down: Writing things down not only helps you remember key pieces of information later on, but it also demonstrates to the customer that you’re interested enough in their insights to memorialize them in writing. But what if they can’t see you taking notes, for example, on a phone or video call? No problem. Just tell them you are! After your customer finishes telling you something, simply pause for a moment and say “I’m just writing this down” to produce the same effect. 5. Recap: Nothing illustrates great attention to detail like repeating back or summarizing the insights the customer shared with you. This is especially powerful when the insights were shared earlier in the conversation. For extra impact, quote them directly using their exact words, prefaced by the phrase “What I heard you say was… ” Echoing someone’s exact words is a powerful and scientifically proven persuasive technique (we’ll be exploring this tactic in more detail as it relates to handling customer objections in chapter 7). 6. Ask good follow-up questions: When a customer answers your question, resist the temptation to say, “That’s great” or “Awesome!” and then move on to the next question. Asking killer follow-up questions like “Tell me more about that,” “Can you give me an example?” or “How long has that been going on?” is a great way to demonstrate your interest in the customer’s perspective and leave the call with high-impact insights. In fact, when it comes to addressing customer objections, a study by Gong.io found that top performers ask follow-up questions 54 percent of the time, versus 31 percent for average performers.6

Mitch: “I heard a story from Lindsey about you bunch doing bogus cheques in steak houses.” Stevie: “Lindsey and his friend Tom used to go into every coffee shop in Hollywood and write hot cheques and never go back again . . . The Copper Penny, Big Boy’s . . .” Mitch: “Boy, you two really fell into the American Dream, huh?” Stevie: “Yeah, We actually fell into it out of nowhere. We were just nowhere.

You okay?” he asked quietly. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Brad. I know you were crushing on him, and now he’s packed it up and moved next door. I wanted to make sure you weren’t having trouble dealing with it.” “I can’t believe Allie told you about my crush.” “Give me a break, Kate. I’ve known since family weekend. When was the last time you wanted to take a picture of me? Document my freshman year? What? Do I have clueless tattooed across my forehead?” Narrowing my eyes, I leaned toward him. “Yeah, I think maybe you do.” Even in the shadows I could see him grin. This was so totally weird. Sitting out here, having an almost normal conversation with my brother. “He’s not your type, Kate.” I scoffed. “How do you know my type? I don’t even know my type.” “Trust me, when you do figure your type out, you’re gonna realize it’s not Brad. I mean, I like him, and he’s a great roommate, but what I want in a friend and what you need in a boyfriend aren’t the same. He’d just end up hurting you. Then I’d have to beat the crap out of him.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Would you really do that for me, Sam?” “You know I would.” His voice was totally serious. And I realized that he was so not joking. His revelation stunned me almost as much as Joe’s kiss. No, wait, nothing would ever throw me off balance as much as that kiss. “You do know that, don’t you, Kate?” Sam asked. “You’re my sister and I . . .” He waved his hand. “That L-word. You know.” “Love?” I asked. “Don’t make me say it, okay? Just know it’s true. I know I give you a hard time, but hey, that’s what brothers do. It’s part of our genetic makeup, a little chip inside our brains that gets activated when our parents shove a screaming baby sister in our face.” “Like you’d have a memory of that moment. You were only fifteen months old.” “Whatever. Look, I’m out here right now because I’ve been a little worried about you, and I haven’t really been able to get you alone to talk.” “You’ve been able to get Allie alone.” And for a lot more than conversation. He grimaced. “Yeah, she told me you know about us. Are you okay with that?” “What if I’m not?” “Then tough. Get over it.” “Some understanding brother you are.” “I’ve got my limits.” “So you really like her, huh?” “Yeah, I have for a long time, but geez, she’s my sister’s best friend. How weird is that?” “Totally weird. When she described the way you kiss—” “What?” Horror echoed his voice. His eyes were wide, his mouth open. “Payback for the snowball,” I said snidely. “I already paid you back for that.” “So? Maybe there’s a little chip inside a girl’s brain that gets activated when her brother is a jerk and erases paybacks as soon as they happen so we need a steady stream of them.” “You’re definitely not playing nice, Kate.” I heard him heave a sigh. “You know, that’s part of the reason I’ve steered clear of Allie. I don’t want her discussing my . . . moves with my sister.” “Yeah, like you’ve got moves.” He gave me a cocky look. “Hey, I’ve got moves.” I held up a hand. “Definitely don’t want to hear about them.” “Definitely don’t want you to hear about them.

Farah answered the door and I knew immediately her pants had recently been off. When our eyes met, I sensed she knew I knew. Farah gave me a casual smile then realized her ponytail was hanging weird off her head. “Sex is fun, huh?” Lark said, walking past her friend. “We’re like rabbits too.” Farah laughed. “We got home late and needed to let off some steam.” “Four times,” Cooper announced, bouncing the stairs. Grinning, I was ready to smack that smirk right off his face. “We have news.” “Moving in together is such a great first step in a relationship,” Cooper said, wrapping an arm around Farah’s shoulders. “We remember those days, don’t we, baby? So long ago.” “You’re being obnoxious,” Farah murmured to her husband. “A giant obnoxious stud.” Lark laughed and winked at me. “Speaking of studs, Aaron knocked me up our first time while I was on the pill. Bam! That is some super sperm!” Farah burst out laughing while I gave Cooper two middle fingers. He just glared at me like I’d knocked up my new girlfriend just so I could make him look weak. Yes, everything in the world revolved around Cooper including my sex life. “Fuck you,” Cooper growled at me. “Don’t feel bad. I mean, you had sex four times,” I said, putting up four fingers. “Wow, you’re bound to have at least one good swimmer in the bunch.” When Cooper ran at me, I took off through the dining room, past the kitchen, and out the backdoor. My buddy was big and strong, but he was slow. I was in the front yard before he got past his excited dogs. Lark opened the door for me then we shut it on Cooper who started cussing until he realized kids were nearby. Farah was laughing so hard she sat on the ground to keep from falling. “Let me in,” Cooper said in a low pissed voice as he glared through the side window. “Say it first.” “Congratulations, jackass. Now, let me in my damn house.” “That’s not what I want you to say.” “Then what? I’m not saying please, so it better not be that.” “Not please. I was thinking something like, ‘Gee, Aaron, can your balls dumb down things for my balls? I’d be ever so grateful to know how babies are made.’ Yeah, something like that.” Farah was rolling around on the floor and no help to Cooper who clearly wasn’t saying what I suggested. Lark finally unlocked the door and smiled at Cooper who exhaled like a pissed bull. “You’re welcome,” she said, grinning. “For what?” “I talked Aaron out of mocking you as badly as he wanted. This was the tame version. So you’re welcome.” Cooper shook his head and finally smiled.

Farah looked freaked out until Tawny hugged her and the tension faded from her face. A minute later, the table cloth lifted and Bailey appeared with beer bottles in her hands. “I figured you’d need booze to deal with the boredom of hiding.” “I can’t drink,” Farah said. “I’m off the pill and trying to get knocked up.” “I am knocked up. I also don’t like that brand of beer.” Handing the beers to Tawny, Bailey nodded. “Be back in a sec.” A minute later, Bailey returned with two cans of Coke for Farah and me. “So what are we talking about?” Bailey asked. “Men needing to protect their women,” I explained. “Lame. Talk about something I can join in on. What’s your sister like? Is she hotter than me?” “Yes.” “I hate her and you should tell her to watch out. If I see her, that pretty face is dead meat.” Grinning, I cuddled up with her as the table shook from fighting bodies knocking against it. “You’re having a baby?” she asked, wrapping her arms around me. “Everyone is getting married or having babies.” “Raven isn’t,” I said as Farah peeked out from under the table cloth to check on Cooper. She smiled and returned to her spot. “Judd and Aaron have stripped Mac down and are shoving him out the door.” Tawny laughed. “Judd finally got to punish Mac for letting me touch his arm months ago. Good for him.” Laughing, I leaned my head against Bailey. “Raven has bad taste in men. Going out with her will be great for you. If Raven likes someone, you’ll know he’s a loser. So she’ll distract all the shitty guys from you.” “Huh. And she’s hot, so she’ll draw guys to us. I think she might be my new best friend,” Bailey said, taking a swig. ‘Don’t be jealous. I just need a man because all of the kissing and fucking and marrying and baby making you guys keep doing. I can’t be the only one alone and Vaughn doesn’t count because he’ll be dead in a few months and shouldn’t be dating anyway.” We all frowned at Bailey who shrugged. “Those Devils fuck are going to kill him or he’ll try to kill them and get killed. Why do you think they call him Dead Man Walking?” “You’re bumming me out,” I told her while finishing my soda. “I wish Aaron was here.” “As you wish,” Aaron said, leaning down. “Look at you pretty girls hiding under here.” “We’re not hiding,” I said, crawling out. “We’re planning our attack. You know, just in case you couldn’t handle things.” When Aaron grinned, I noticed blood on his lip. “You’re hurt.” “You should see the other guys.” Glancing around, I noticed Mac’s friend was propped up on the pool table and the other guys were throwing pretzels and peanuts at him. In the corner, Kirk and Jodi sat as if on their porch drinking lemonade and admiring the sunset. “My hero,” I said, caressing the cobra. “Are you talking to me or the tattoo?” “Both, baby. Always both.

In an instant, cold sweat coated my forehead and the back of my neck. I swallowed, and the Eraser Max in the mirror swallowed. I opened my mouth and saw the long, sharp canines. But when I touched them with my finger, they felt small, smooth, normal. I touched my face and felt smooth skin, though the mirror showed me totally morphed. I remembered how ill I had felt, hot and heart-poundy. Oh, God. What was this all about? Had I just discovered a new “skill,” like Angel reading minds, Gazzy able to imitate any voice, Iggy identifying people by feeling their fingerprints? Had I just developed the skill of turning into an Eraser, our worst enemy? I felt sick with revulsion and dread. I glanced guiltily around to make sure no one could see me like this. I didn’t even know what they would see if they woke up. I felt normal. I looked like an Eraser. Kind of a cuter, blonder, Pekingesey Eraser. Respect and honor your enemies, said my Voice. Always. Know your friends well; know your enemies even better. Oh, please, I begged silently. Please let this be just a horrible lesson and not reality. I promise, promise, promise to know my enemies better. Just let me lose the muzzle. Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness, Max. I stared at the mirror. Huh? Your hatred of Erasers gives you the power to fight to the death. But that hatred also blinds you to the big picture: the big picture of them, of you, of everything in your life. Um. Let me think about that and get back to you. Okay? Ow. I winced and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub the pain away. I touched my face one last time to make sure it really was smooth, and then I went and looked at Fang. He was still breathing, sleeping. He looked better. Not so embalmed. He was going to be all right. I sighed, trying to release my pain and fear, then I curled up on my mat next to Nudge. I closed my eyes but didn’t really have any hope of sleeping. I lay quietly in the darkness. The only thing that made me feel better was listening to the even, regular, calm breathing of my sleeping flock.

He bows to the two of us, and when he speaks, his voice fills the room, far louder and more booming than a voice should be before noon. “I intend to ride the estate today, if you two would like to join me.” I open my mouth to give him a quick, No thanks, I’d rather pull out my own hair, but Emily beats me to it. “How kind of you to offer! We would love to.” Huh? I can’t figure out why Emily doesn’t hate Alex. He’s a jerk and he’s done nothing to help her out of her engagement. And now she’s volunteering to hang out with him? An excuse…I need some kind of excuse to get out of this. Alex walks to the window and looks out, offering a rather flattering view of the back of his riding pants. “Did you enjoy the dance last evening?” Is he making small talk? That’s a first. “Yes, very much so,” Emily says. “It was delightful.” I nod. “Yeah. I guess so.” I won’t say I had fun because I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I don’t want him to know dancing with him was the most exciting part of my evening and the most agonizingly long half hour of my life. Alex looks at me for a long silent moment. You’d think he’d bring up the big “lady” versus “miss” debacle. Or just that we’d danced. But he doesn’t. “Yes, I rather enjoyed myself as well,” he says. Seriously, what does that mean? I was the only girl he danced with. The entire night. Is he trying to tell me something? Ha. Right. He probably means that it was all sorts of fun to insult me. And that’s when Emily starts rubbing her temple. She sets her needlepoint down and frowns, massaging in circular motions on the side of her face. Oh, no, she’s not-- “Dear cousin, I am coming down with a headache. Perhaps you and Rebecca ought to ride without me.” I get a twinge when I hear Rebecca. Every day it feels more like we’re friends--and more like I’m betraying her. And then she turns to me, knowing Alex can’t see her, and winks. “Oh, no, I--” I start to say, because I suddenly realize what she’s trying to do. This can not happen. A horseback ride alone with Alex? No thank you! But Alex cuts in before I can stop her. “Yes, I would not have you overexerting yourself. We shall check on you when we return.” Okay, this is not how I want to spend my afternoon. Alone with Alex? I’d rather get a root canal. But…maybe it’s my chance to talk to him about Emily. Maybe he doesn’t know about Trent. Emily said Trent was wealthy, right? He’s not titled, but he has money. If Alex knew about him…maybe he would get Emily off the hook with Denworth. Maybe that’s why Emily is trying to arrange for me to spend time with Alex. She so owes me after this. I can do this. I can hang out with him for a couple hours--long enough to talk him into helping us. Emily jumps up from her chair far too quickly for someone with a headache and leaves the room before I can do anything. I rub my eyes. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Once out of earshot, my dad said, "So, what's going on with you and Miss Kline?" "Nothing," I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. "We're just friends." "Uh-huh. You need to be careful around pretty girls, and that one has an eye out for you." "Yeah, right." "I'm glad you agree, because I could positively see the sparkle in her eyes." "Dad, stop.

Alex,” Paco says, leaning on the golf club like it’s a cane. “Do ya think I was meant to play golf?” Looking Paco straight in the eye, I answer, “No.” “I heard you talkin’ to Hector. I don’t think you were mean to deal, either.” “Is that why we’re here? You’re tryin’ to make a point?” “Hear me out,” Paco insists. “I’ve got the keys to the car in my pocket and I’m not goin’ nowhere until I finish hittin’ all of these bulls, so you might as well listen. I’m not smart like you. I don’t have choices in life, but you, you’re smart enough to go to college and be a doctor or computer geek or somethin’ like that. Just like I wasn’t meant to hit golf balls, you weren’t meant to deal drugs. Let me do the drop for you.” “No way, man. I appreciate you makin’ an ass out of yourself to prove a point, but I know what I need to do,” I tell him. Paco sets up a new ball, swings, and yet again the ball rolls away from him. “That Brittany sure is hot. She goin’ to college?” I know what Paco is doing; unfortunately my best friend is nothing less than obvious. “Yep. In Colorado.” To be close to her sister, the person she cares for more than herself. Paco whistles. “I’m sure she’ll meet a lot of guys in Colorado. You know, real guys with cowboy hats.” My muscles tense. I don’t want to think about it. I ignore Paco until we’re back in the car. “When are you going to stop stickin’ your ass into my business?” I ask him. He chuckles. “Never.” “Then I guess you won’t mind me bargin’ into yours. What happened between you and Isa, huh?” “We fooled around. It’s over.” “You might think it’s over, but I don’t think she does.” “Yeah, well, that’s her problem.” Paco turns the radio on and blasts the music loud. He’s never dated anyone because he’s scared of getting close to someone. Even Isa isn’t aware of all the abuses he’s endured at home. Believe me, I understand the reasons behind his keeping a distance from a girl he cares about. Because the truth is, sometimes getting close to the fire does actually burn you.

Huh?” she said. “What’s this?” “I think you have a fever. Might be from damn near freezing to death, might be from something else. First we try aspirin.” “Yeah,” she said, taking them in her small hand. “Thanks.” While Marcie took the aspirin with water, he fixed up the tea. They traded, water cup for mug of tea. He stayed across the room at his table while she sipped the tea. When she was almost done, he said, “Okay, here’s the deal. I have to work this morning. I’ll be gone till noon or so—depends how long it takes. When I get back, you’re going to be here. After we’re sure you’re not sick, then you’ll go. But not till I tell you it’s time to go. I want you to sleep. Rest. Use the pot, don’t go outside. I don’t want to stretch this out. And I don’t want to have to go looking for you to make sure you’re all right. You understand?” She smiled, though weakly. “Aw, Ian, you care.” He snarled at her, baring his teeth like an animal. She laughed a little, which turned into a cough. “You get a lot of mileage out of that? The roars and growls, like you’re about to tear a person to pieces with your teeth?” He looked away. “Must keep people back pretty good. Your old neighbor said you were crazy. You howl at the moon and everything?” “How about you don’t press your luck,” he said as meanly as he could. “You need more tea?” “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll nap. I don’t want to be any trouble, but I’m awful tired.” He went to her and took the cup out of her hand. “If you didn’t want to be any trouble, why didn’t you just leave me the hell alone?” “Gee, I just had this wild urge to find an old friend…” She lay back on the couch, pulling that soft quilt around her. “What kind of work do you do?” “I sell firewood out of the back of my truck.” He went to his metal box, which was nailed to the floor from the inside so it couldn’t be stolen if someone happened by his cabin, which was unlikely. He unlocked it and took out a roll of bills he kept in there and put it in his pocket, then relocked it. “First snowfall of winter—should be a good day. Maybe I’ll get back early, but no matter what, I want you here until I say you go. You get that?” “Listen, if I’m here, it’s because it’s where I want to be, and you better get that. I’m the one who came looking for you, so don’t get the idea you’re going to bully me around and scare me. If I wasn’t so damn tired, I might leave—just to piss you off. But I get the idea you like being pissed off.” He stood and got into his jacket, pulled gloves out of the pockets. “I guess we understand each other as well as we can.” “Wait—it’s

So what was Jonah like before high school? As a kid?” “As a kid?” Hallelujah brings up the picture in her mind. “He was . . . sweet, I guess. Dorky. He’d wear these outfits his mom picked out—pleated khaki pants and polo shirts, with his hair slicked down with gel. And he would get really enthusiastic about things. Too enthusiastic. He went through this cowboy phase where he wore a cowboy hat and boots to school every day. Didn’t care what anyone thought.” The mental image makes her smile. “And he and Luke were best friends?” “Starting in middle school, yeah. They played soccer together.” “Huh.” Rachel pauses. “So when did Jonah get cute?” “He was still pretty short in middle school. And skinny. But he did start dressing better.” “No more pleated khakis?” “No more pleated khakis. And then the summer before ninth grade, he had this growth spurt. And he started to, uh, fill out. So I guess ninth grade is when I noticed . . .” Hallelujah fades off. “This is embarrassing.” “No, it’s not. This is what girls talk about.” Rachel grins. “Besides. I wanted to see if you were paying as close attention to him as he was to you.” “I didn’t realize I was. We were just friends.” “You can be friends and still objectively notice someone’s cuteness.

I understand. I’ll call my brother and he’ll come get me.” Gracie’s hand flew up and her eyes went wide. “Wait, what?” “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” After thirteen years, she was used to giving up her desires to do the right thing; she only wished it wasn’t so hard. “You’re right, it’s best if I go home.” “No!” Gracie shouted. She straightened and stepped closer to Maddie. “No! That’s not what I meant. I was only trying to say, ‘be careful.’” The men chose that moment to burst in the door like a bunch of rambunctious puppies, filling the room with chaos and testosterone. Gracie placed her hand over her forehead. “Oh, shit, he’s going to kill me.” Mitch stopped on a dime, his attention going first to Maddie and then to Gracie. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “What did you do?” All three men turned to Gracie. They advanced on her, gleaming with sweat. Alarm stirred. Maddie didn’t need to see their faces. The aggression was clear in their stance. The sheriff crossed his arms over his broad chest, and the muscles in his back rippled with the movement. Like Mitch, he also had a tribal-looking tattoo, although it was on his left shoulder instead of wrapping around his bicep. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” Gracie seemed to regain some of her composure, and her chin tilted. “I was only . . .” She cleared her throat. “Being friendly. And helpful.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Didn’t I tell you to leave it alone?” “Yes, but . . .” Gracie glanced at Maddie. “I was worried, and—” Mitch sliced a hand through the air. “What happened?” The men reminded Maddie so much of her brothers and their tactics lit her temper. “That’s enough!” They all swung around. The men’s eyes were sharp, hard with leftover adrenaline. It gave her a moment of pause, before she brushed their daunting presence aside and vaulted off her position by the sink. They tracked her as she stomped around them to stand in front of Gracie. “Stop intimidating her.” Charlie laughed, a wry, amused sound. “Honey, we couldn’t intimidate her if we tried.” His gaze slid over Gracie in a familiar, intimate way. “Although I do think she’s angling for a spanking.” “Ha! You wish.” Gracie placed a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “Thanks for trying to rescue me. You’re a doll.” She sniffed. “It’s nice to have another female here. I never have anyone on my side.” Sam shook his head. “What did I tell you?” Maddie planted her hands on her hips. “She didn’t do anything, so stop it.” Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say, Maddie?” “I was just—” Gracie said. “Nothing.” Maddie cut her off as a sudden loyalty toward the woman behind her swelled in her chest. “It has nothing to do with any of you. Now back off.” Charlie’s lips curled into a smile. “Aren’t you a feisty little thing?” “I might be little,” Maddie said, in a righteous tone. “But I’m used to dealing with my brothers, who are all bigger and scarier than you.” Charlie laughed and elbowed Mitch in the ribs. “That sounds like a challenge.” Maddie risked a glance at Mitch to find his expression still hard, not amused at all. He crossed his arms. “I want to talk to Maddie. Alone.” Sam jutted his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.” Gracie squeezed Maddie’s shoulders. “Thanks for sticking up for me. And remember, I’m right next door if you need anything.” “She won’t,” Mitch said, his tone matching the dark expression he wore. Strangely,

My world is so huge right now—when a Wide Iwish Rose puts her arms around my neck and calls me a silly daddy, my heart almost doesn’t fit in my chest. That Rosie—she isn’t just an idea. She’s more than I could have imagined if my imagination had gone into overdrive.” Franci was quiet for a moment. Then she put a spoonful of ice cream to his lips. “I know,” she said. “You’ve turned yourself into a wonderful silly daddy.” He swallowed the ice cream. “I need you to forgive me for the man I was… If you can.” “I forgave you when I saw you with our daughter. It’s all different now.” “I know I suggested marriage before, but you were onto me. I was just trying to check off the items on my to-do list. It isn’t like that now. I want to marry you because you’re the most important thing in my life. You’re the beat of my heart, Franci—the mother of my child, my best friend and my future. I love you more than anything. I love Rosie as much. I’d lay down my life for either one of you.” “Sean…” she said in a whisper, tears coming to her eyes. “I’m so sorry I had my head up my ass when we were together before—if I could do that whole time over, I’d prove to you that I’m not completely brainless. I love you, baby. You and Rose.” “I know,” she whispered. “We love you, too.” “Will you marry me?” he asked. He grinned. “Bite the dust with me? Spend our lives as husband and wife?” “I will, of course. You’re obviously useless on your own.” “We can plan a wedding or do it quick or wait to decide when I get orders—it’s up to you. Anything you want. But let’s get a license right away so we’re ready, because I need the official contract. I want to be your legal partner as well as your lover and best friend. And let’s get you a ring. Will you consider taking my name, baby? And let me give it to Rosie?” “Uh-huh,” she said, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. “It’s just details, honey—but the important part is right this minute, when we make the decision that we’re a family now.” “We’re a family now,” she said. “Whew,” he said. “I thought you’d probably say yes, but there was a little worry in the back of my mind that maybe I had more to prove. Thank you.” He leaned toward her and covered her lips with his. “Thank you,” he said again. “I love you so much. So let’s get the license and ring this week—what do you think?” She put her bowl on the bedside table. “I think my ice cream is soup, so you should close the door and take my clothes off. What do you think?” He grinned hugely. “I think I’m going to love being married to you.” *

How’d she take it.” Sean thought for a second. “Truthfully? She wasn’t that impressed. She knew her daddy had a plane and she wants a ride. She took it right in stride, like she’d been expecting me to show up any second.” “And you?” Aiden asked. “You take it in stride?” “Aw, hell, it wore me out so bad I fell asleep on her little bed. Slept until the sun was down. After spending about three hours with her—eating her imaginary chicken and broccoli, reading books, picking up toys, talking about bikes and dogs and playmates at school—I was shot. She has these high heels she wears. She took some to school so her friend Jason could wear them, too.” He grumbled. “While I was asleep, she painted my face with magic markers…” Aiden whooped with laughter. “Yeah, you laugh. I’ll turn her loose on you.” “I’d love that,” Aiden said. “When can I meet her?” “Gimme some time, Aiden. I’m way behind the power curve here. I don’t know anything about kids, and there is so much to know. You have no idea.” “She’s just a kid, Sean. Don’t overthink it. Enjoy her.” “Did you know that when a little kid poops, you have to check their little butt to make sure they wiped it clean? Did you know that?” Aiden chuckled. “Yes, Sean, I knew that.” “Where the hell do you learn something like that?” “I dated a woman with a couple of little kids. Haven’t you? Ever dated a single young mother?” Sean was quiet for a moment. “Not really.” “How can you not really date a young mother?” “I’ve gone out with women with kids before, yeah. But I’ve never been around the kids. I have friends with kids, but I never paid attention to that stuff. I’m in way over my head.” “Franci will help you with all that. How is Franci?” “Cautious. I told her I thought we should get married and she told me to slow down—she wants to be sure it’s the right move.” “Bullshit. She wants to be sure you’re in love with her. That you can be a lover and a family man. Don’t you know anything about women?” “Not as much as I thought I did,” Sean admitted. “My little brother the playboy,” Aiden said. “Time to take life a little more seriously, huh? I want to meet her. Rosie. Let me know the minute I can. And I’d love to see Franci again.” “You know, just because Rosie took me in stride doesn’t mean the entire Riordan clan won’t be a little overwhelming for her,” Sean said. “Let’s not throw her in the deep end of the pool, huh?” “Red hair and green eyes, I hear,” Aiden said. “Like Mom and Paddy and half our cousins. That must have been a shock.” “The second I saw her, I knew. Plus, it couldn’t be anyone else’s kid—Franci and I were tight.” He paused. “Till we weren’t.” “Well,

Furi narrowed his eyes again and stepped into Syn’s space. “Are you gay, Detective?” There it was. The million-dollar question. Was he gay? He’d never asked himself that. He’d only slept with women before, but had never felt anything more for them than an easy friends-with-benefits involvement. Rhodes was the only person that he’d ever felt a connection with. A man. Syn felt his mouth move, but no sound was coming out. Fuck. Furi looked at him skeptically. “Uh huh. Just like I thought. Who are you working for? Him. He send you? Did he hire you to find me? Are you a private detective?” That accusation cut through Syn's speechlessness. “Whoa. I work for the city of Atlanta. What are you talking about? Who is him? Is someone after you?” Syn didn’t realize he’d grabbed Furi’s shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes until Furi threw his arms up and dislodged Syn’s grip. “Take your goddamn hands off of me! I’m sick of people thinking they can put their fucking hands on me! Stay the fuck away from me, Detective.” Furi shoved past him and reached for the door. Syn jumped in front of it before Furi could get it open. He yelled right back at Furi, “My name is Syn! I’m not here as a Detective! I don’t know who him is, nor do I work for him.” Syn put up air quotes for the word him. “I just wanted to talk to you!” “About what?” Furi yelled. They were in each other’s faces, chest bumping each other. “I don’t fucking know! About you. About me. About the damn Falcons' game last week. About the weather. About why there’s so many goddamn reality TV shows. About what-the-hell-ever! That’s what people do when they want to get to know someone!” Syn stepped back and gripped his hair blowing out a long frustrated breath. He felt so ridiculous, was so annoyed that he was seconds away from just walking away. “Fuck! I didn’t think dating was this damn hard.

John laughed as he saw the scolding look on Roger’s face. “What?” The big man just shook his head, arms crossed. “You’re in for it now. What if you have two girls?” John scowled. That had occurred to him as well. Two boys would be ideal. He could deal with boys. What the hell would he do with girls? Chad punched Roger in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Girls are fine. Mercy is amazing.” He looked at John. “Don’t give in to all that stereotypical bullshit. She plays with cars and stuffed animals. Give her a Barbie doll and she turns her nose up at it. I can’t wait to take her shooting at the ranch. I found this awesome little .22 caliber rifle called a Cricket. Shorter barrel, shorter stock. Totally made for a little girl.” John looked at the picture Chad had saved on his phone of the little pink gun. Huh…okay. That was pretty cute. “Besides,” Chad continued, “I doubt Shannon will let you avoid them. Twins are a lot of work, my friend. I used to babysit my niece Grace when she was a baby, and just one kid is a handful. I can’t imagine two.” “Thanks for the pep talk, Lowell,” John growled. They

Even at a distance, he recognized Emma sprawled headlong in the street, and he broke into a run. The road was empty, so was the boardwalk. He knelt beside her and helped her sit up. “Emma . . . honey, are you okay?” Tears streaked her dusty cheeks. “I-I lost my Aunt Kenny, and”—she hiccupped a sob—“m-my mommy’s gone.” Her face crumpled. “Oh, little one . . . come here.” He gathered her to him, and she came without hesitation. He stood and wiped her tears, and checked for injuries. No broken bones. Nothing but a skinned knee that a little soapy water—and maybe a sugar stick—would fix right up. “Shh . . . it’s okay.” He smoothed the hair on the back of her head, and her little arms came around his neck. A lump rose in his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her sobs came harder. “Clara fell down too, Mr. Wyatt.” She drew back and held up the doll. “She’s all dirty. And she stinks.” Wyatt tried his best not to smile. Clara was indeed filthy. And wet. Apparently she’d gone for a swim in the same mud puddle Emma had fallen in. Only it wasn’t just mud, judging from the smell. “Here . . .” He gently chucked her beneath the chin. “Let’s see if we can find your Aunt Kenny. You want to?” The little girl nodded with a hint of uncertainty. “But I got my dress all dirty. She’s gonna be mad.” Knowing there might be some truth to that, he also knew Miss Ashford would be worried sick. “Do you remember where you were with Aunt Kenny before you got lost?” Emma shook her head. “I was talkin’ to my friend, and I looked up . . .” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And Aunt Kenny was gone.” Wyatt knew better than to think it was McKenna Ashford who had wandered away. “We’ll find her, don’t you worry.” “Clara’s dress is dirty like mine, huh?” She held the doll right in front of his face. Wyatt paused, unable to see it clearly. Easily supporting Emma’s weight, he took Clara and did his best to wipe the dirt and mud from the doll’s dress and its once-yellow strands of hair. His efforts only made a bigger mess, but Emma’s smile said she was grateful. “She likes you.” Emma put a hand to his cheek, then frowned. “Your face is itchy.” Knowing what she meant, he laughed and rubbed his stubbled jaw. He’d bathed and shaved last night in preparation for church this morning, half hoping he might see McKenna and Emma there. But they hadn’t attended. “My face is itchy, huh?” She squeezed his cheek in response, and he made a chomping noise, pretending he was trying to bite her. She pulled her hand back, giggling. Instinctively, he hugged her close and she laid her head on his shoulder. Something deep inside gave way. This is what it would have been like if his precious little Bethany had lived. He rubbed Emma’s back, taking on fresh pain as he glimpsed a fragment of what he’d been denied by the deaths of his wife and infant daughter so many years ago. “Here, you can carry her.” Emma tried to stuff Clara into his outer vest pocket, but the doll wouldn’t fit. Wyatt tucked her inside his vest instead and positioned its scraggly yarn head to poke out over the edge, hoping it would draw a smile. Which it did.

I think I’m the only woman you’ve loved in forever. And you were going to pitch me out that fast, just because I make you nervous. I thought you didn’t trust me, but now I think you don’t trust yourself.” She shook her head. “I don’t want a man like that. I need a man with guts, who’s sure of himself. Confident enough to stand by me. I need a man who’s not afraid to take a risk or two for something important.” “I’ve taken a risk or two,” he said. “And you don’t scare me. Come up here on the porch.” “No. Not until you say that if we stay solid, there will be a real relationship and a family. I don’t want any of this ‘I don’t get involved’ shit. It’s all crap, Luke. You can have some time to be sure, I’m patient. But I’m not giving you up.” He smiled at her. “I don’t need time to be sure. I know how I feel.” “Still on that? Still that ‘never gonna happen’ bullshit?” “Okay, I guess it could happen,” he said. “If it did happen, it would happen with you. I just always thought you deserved more.” “More than everything I’ve ever wanted in the world? See what an idiot you turned out to be?” He had to laugh. She was something, this woman. “Shelby, come here. I don’t have to think about it—you’re the most solid thing I’ve ever had in my life. Now come here.” “I thought I wasn’t enough for you—but I was too much,” she said. “And you don’t get to decide what I deserve. What I deserve is a man who looks at me grow fat on his baby and feels pride. Love and pride.” “Okay then,” he said. “I love you. Come here.” “Not good enough. You have to say something to convince me this is worth the gamble. I came a long way and I came alone. I was betting on you, on us. I love you and you love me and I’m sick of screwing around. Say the right thing for once. Say something profound.” He stared at her and his smile slowly faded. He put his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath and felt tears gather in his eyes. “You’re all I need to be happy, Shelby,” he said. “You’re everything I need…” He actually surprised her. Her arms dropped from over her chest and she gaped at him for a second. “You’re everything,” he said. “It scares me to death, but I want it all with you. I want you for life. I want what you want, and I want it right now.” “Huh?” “Everything, Shelby. I want you to be the lead in my shoes that keeps me on the ground. The mother of my children. My best friend, my wife, my mistress. It’s a tall order.” He took a breath. “If you won’t quit, I won’t.” “You’re sure about that?” she asked him. “Sure it scares the hell out me you’ll change your mind? Or sure I want it all? Oh, yeah, honey. I’m sure.” “I won’t change my mind,” she said softly. “I can’t hear you!” he yelled. “I can’t hear you because you won’t come out of the frickin’ rain!” She ran up the porch steps and into his arms.

So Luke went to the back of the SUV where Sean was unloading way too many suitcases for five nights. “You’d think she was taking a fricking cruise.” “Your death is going to be slow and painful.” “Aw, come on! What’s up your butt now? You had plenty of time to get used to the idea. And she’s thrilled to be here, you can see that.” “You told her all about Shelby? I didn’t even tell you what was going on with Shelby! Can’t you ever keep your mouth shut about anything?” “I beg your pardon—I fly a spy plane. I have a very large security clearance. I told her about Shelby to piss you off.” He grinned. “Did I hear right? We’re going to the general’s for dinner?” “Listen to me carefully, because if you screw this up I really will kill you. She’s young and inexperienced, not my type, I’m too old for her and it’s not serious. Her uncle is trained in hand-to-hand combat and he doesn’t like that she likes me. It’s not the usual thing, so just keep your big mouth shut. You hear me?” “Whew, this is making you testy,” Sean said with a smirk. “That means it’s heating up. Where’s Art?” “In his cabin. I’ll go get him as soon as we get these bags in the house.” Luke hefted two. “Jesus, where did she think she was going?” “She plans to be at her best for your new friends. You know, you could have avoided all this by just going to Phoenix for two days.” “I’ve been trying to avoid you for years, but you just won’t go away,” Luke grumbled. “This was your idea and you know it. Don’t screw with me.” Sean stiffened. “In three seconds we’ll be back twenty years, rolling in the dirt. Let’s not do this to her, huh? She really gives a shit what’s happening with you. I don’t, but she does.” “Ach,

Shelby is a wonderful young woman. You’re good together.” “Mother…” “It isn’t just her. Oh, it’s obvious she loves you. But it’s also you. The second she’s near you, all those tense lines in your face relax and you soften up. That grumpy, self-protective shield drops and you’re warm and affectionate. She’s good for you, she brings out your best, makes you fun. You have something special with her.” “She’s twenty-five.” Maureen shook her head. “I don’t think that’s relevant. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with how you two communicate…” “There are things you don’t understand about Shelby,” he said. “She’s not just young, she hasn’t had many relationships. She’s been taking care of her mother and hasn’t really looked at the world. In a lot of ways, she’s a child.” “I know all about her mother, but she’s no child,” Maureen said. “It takes maturity and courage to do what she did. So she didn’t have a lot of relationships with young men, it doesn’t mean she lacks worldly experience. And your age doesn’t matter to her.” “It will. I’m too old. I’m not going to stand still while she gets older. She’ll be thirty-five and I’ll be almost fifty. She’d find herself with an old man.” “At fifty?” She laughed. “I liked fifty,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Fifty was good. I was only twenty-three when I married your father and I never thought of him as too old for me. To the contrary, it made me feel better in so many ways, to be with a mature man, a man of experience who didn’t have doubts anymore. He was stable and solid. It brought me comfort. And he was awful good to me.” Luke straightened his shoulders. “I’m not getting married. Shelby will move on, Mom. She wants a career. A young husband. She wants a family.” “You know this?” Maureen asked. “Of course I know that,” he said. “You think we haven’t talked? I didn’t lead her on. And she didn’t lead me on. She knows I don’t want a wife, don’t want children…” Maureen was quiet for a long moment. Finally she said, “You did once.” Luke let go a short laugh that was tinged with his inner rage. “I’m cured of that.” “You have to think about this. The way you’ve managed your life since Felicia hasn’t exactly brought you peace. I suppose it’s normal when a man gets hurt to avoid anything risky for a while, but not for thirteen years, Luke. If the right person comes along, don’t assume it can’t work just because it didn’t work once, a long, long time ago. I know this young woman as well as I ever knew Felicia. Luke, Shelby is nothing like her. Nothing.” Luke pursed his lips, looked away for a second and then took a slow sip of coffee. “Thank you, Mom. I’ll remember that.” She stepped toward him. “It’s going to hurt just as much to let her go as it hurt you to be tossed away by Felicia. Remember that.” “You know, I don’t think I’m the one guilty of assumptions here,” he said impatiently. “What makes you think all people want a tidy little marriage and children? Huh? I’ve been damn happy the past dozen years. I’ve been challenged and successful in my own way, I’ve had a good time, good friends, a few relationships…” “You’ve been treading water,” she said. “You’re marking the years, not living them. There’s more to life, Luke. I hope you let yourself see—you’re in such a good place right now—you can have it all. You put in your army years and it left you with a pension while you’re still young. You’re healthy, smart, accomplished, and you have a good woman. She’s devoted to you. There’s no reason you have to be alone for the rest of your life. It’s not too late.” He’d

Aren’t we waiting for Lori?” Jonah asked. Toby didn’t turn around as he answered. “Nah, she isn’t coming. We’ll meet up with her later today.” Great. Lori was too pissed to see him and Toby was like Antarctica. Jonah still wasn’t completely sure why they were so angry, given the fact that Zev hadn’t told anyone back home about their relationship. Well, there was one option; his old friends weren’t comfortable with him being gay. Tough shit. Jonah figured the best way to deal with the situation was to face it head-on. But as soon as they got into Jonah’s car, Toby started fiddling with the radio. Jonah decided to bide his time and wait for Toby to finish what he was doing so they could talk. He almost lost his composure when the other man landed on a Barry Manilow song and kept it there. Toby had to be the only Fanilow under the age of fifty. “So I’m guessing Lori told you about that guy in my apartment last night.” Toby’s posture immediately stiffened. Several long moments passed before he answered. “Yeah, she did.” “Anything you want to ask me about it, Toby? Might as well get it out there. No reason to walk on eggshells around each other.” “Ooookay,” Toby responded, drawing out the word. He took a deep breath and turned to face Jonah. “Did you stumble across a clearance sale on jackass cream or something? Maybe they were running a special on lobotomies?” Well, that was an unexpected response. “Huh? Whatta you mean?” “What I mean, Jonah…,” Toby said in a louder voice, “is that I know we’re all just a couple of bad decisions away from being one of those weirdos who buys fake nuts and hangs them on the back of his pickup truck, but you really managed to win the stupid cake last night.” Okay, this conversation wasn’t going exactly how Jonah had planned, but he still felt the need to defend himself. “Stupid? Why? Because I’m gay? That’s not a bad decision, Toby. It’s not a decision at all.” Jonah pulled into a parking lot of a decent diner, turned off the car, and turned to face Toby. The conversation was tense and awkward, but at least Toby’s atrocious music was no longer making Jonah’s ears bleed. Jonah would have preferred hearing his car engine drop out and drag across the asphalt than another cheesy ballad. “No shit, Sherlock. But cheating on Zev is a decision. A really bad decision.” Jonah’s mouth dropped open, and he snapped his eyes toward Toby in shock. Holy crap. Toby knew about his relationship with Zev. That meant Lori knew. As much as he hated being hidden from Zev’s family and life back in Etzgadol, Jonah didn’t want the man to be forced out against his will. “You know?” “Know what?” “About, um, me and Zev?” Toby rolled his eyes. “Of course I know. Just because I was blessed in the looks department doesn’t mean I was shorted anything upstairs. I’m not an idiot, Jonah.

Charlotte tugs on my jersey. “Do you mind if I take some pics tonight?” she yells over the stereo system, which is blasting our classic rock warmup playlist. “’Course not. Do your thing.” She gives me one of those lingering smiles that makes me wonder if my mom is right. If Charlotte has had feelings for me since high school. I watch her walk away. She’s wearing some cutoffs that make her ass look amazing and her slender legs long. “Just friends, huh?” Billy elbows me hard. “Best rethink that.” “Why are you always pestering me?” He holds a hand over his heart. “You wound me, bro. I’m trying to be a good person. Which means I’m not making a move on your girl like I want to.” I don’t even bother arguing that she’s not my girl. Because Charlotte feels like she’s mine. Fuck it. I’m done debating this. I’m going after what I really want.

Gabs, can we talk a second?” He clears his throat. Nothing good ever follows that statement. I brace myself for what’s sure to be an awkward conversation. “I just want to apologize for our… misunderstanding freshman year.” I’m silent for a moment, but the rush of anger that spikes my pulse has me responding before I think better of it. “You’d call it a misunderstanding, huh?” I roll my eyes. “Funny, I didn’t think I misunderstood anything, but if you want to mansplain it to me now, go for it.” Why make this easy for him? It’s always been difficult for me to make friends, but for some reason, Rider slipped through my defenses. I was assigned to tutor him in English. I remember meeting him in the library, and the shy smile he gave me. He was embarrassed to need help. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen, and I swear when he leveled me with those big gray eyes, the ground fell out beneath me. I’m a practical girl, but foster care made me cynical, and ending up with my aunt did nothing to help my outlook on life. But Rider was funny and sweet, not to mention ridiculously good-looking, and I went over faster than a felled log in a forest. This was before he was the golden boy of the football team. When he was just this guy Rider from some speck-of-dust small Texas town like me. Even though he rode the bench, I went to all of his games, and we’d grab pizza afterward and talk until late in the night. Although he didn’t outright say it, I knew he had a rough home life. He mentioned that his father was an ass. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and make it better. And I thought I meant something to him. That what we had was special. Until he became the starting quarterback.

Really don’t want Ramirez to beat the shit out of me, so I get it. That’s fine. But I’m starving, and I figure you are too. Cam and I want to take you and Rox out.” He holds out his hands. “Just as friends. I swear.” “Trust me, Jake won’t care.” It’s like we were never friends. My eyes sting, but I can’t be upset with him. I did this to myself. I was too chicken to tell him how I felt in high school, and I only compounded everything when I left NTU without talking to him first. “I don’t know about that.” Billy’s voice lowers. “Aww, hell, Chuck. Don’t cry.” I sniffle and blink several times. “I’m not crying. It’s allergies.” Jake stops playing with Asher to glance over at us, and my heart sinks at the cold expression on his face. There are icebergs in the Arctic warmer than the look he gives me. Billy makes that humming noise again before he slips his beefy arm over my shoulders. “Doesn’t care, huh? I might regret this later, but how ’bout we give him something to care about?” “What?” That’s when the doofus pulls me into his chest and kisses me out of the blue. There’s no tongue, thank God. Just the hard press of his bristly mouth against mine. It’s fine, I guess. When he pulls away, he smacks his lips. “You taste minty.” I sigh, and it’s not because he swept me off my feet. “That was my first kiss.” I don’t mention I was saving it for someone special. His eyes widen. “Like, ever?” “Yes, and now I need to go home and write about it in my diary,” I say sarcastically before I turn to pack my gear, a little upset my first kiss wasn’t more magical.

There are many ways of displaying active involvement in a conversation, ways that don’t entail jumping in and interrupting the other person’s every seven words. The trick isn’t to master every one of these techniques. Good listeners learn a few that they find comfortable and natural—and remember to put these few to work. It can be an occasional nod, or an uh-huh, or an I see. Some people like to shift their postures or lean forward in the chair. At appropriate moments, others smile or shake their heads. Strong eye contact is another way of indicating to your conversation-mate, “Yes, I am listening closely to what you are telling me.” And when the other person comes to a break in his or her talking, go ahead and ask a question that follows closely from what was just said. What’s important here isn’t the precise listening technique that is chosen. None of these methods should ever be used in a wooden or rote way. These are just a few approaches that are worth being mindful of when the moment feels right. They will make the other person happier about speaking with you.

He was flirty when he was drunk. It was cute. He didn’t usually say things like this to me. I shut it down immediately when he did. But Drunk Josh wasn’t really Josh. “How come Sober Josh doesn’t have all this swagger, huh?” I teased. He snorted. “He does. He’s just trying to follow your many rules. Drunk Josh doesn’t live by rules. Drunk Josh does what Drunk Josh wants,” he said, stumbling over the words.

A hero?” I said in wonder. I had not thought I could be a hero. Just like I had not thought I could be a friend. I smiled, aware of a tingling, bubbling feeling in my body. I remembered going around and around on the carousel and how my chest had felt warm and full and fluttery. “But are heroes average in type, appearance, achievement, function and development?” I asked. “Huh?” “Is a hero average in type, appearance, achievement, function and development?” I repeated. “Heroes are not average. That’s what makes them special.” Megan looked at me. “You okay?” “Yes,” I said, even though I usually do not like questions. “Yes, definitely. I am…okay.

Halfway through the day, Megan started dicking around on the internet. She made her browser window as small as she could, paused for a second, and then looked up “Carrie Wilkins.” She found Carrie’s website, and on it, this bio: Hi, my name’s Carrie. I’m 26. I make things. I paint and I write, but mostly I design. I like to make things beautiful, or creative. I make my own food and I’m trying to grow my own beets. A lot of people around me seem unhappy and I don’t understand why. I freelance because I know I’d go insane if I couldn’t make my own schedule—I believe variety is the zest of life. I know I want a dog someday soon, and sometimes I make lunch at 3 a.m. I believe in the power of collaboration, and I’d love to work with you! What a total asshole. What does she have, some kind of a pact with Satan? The picture next to Carrie’s bio had some kind of heavy filter on it that made it look vintage, and she had a friendly but aloof look on her face. She was flanked on both sides by plants and was wearing an oxford shirt with fancy shorts and had a cool necklace. It was an outfit, for sure, like all of Carrie’s clothes were outfits, which Megan always thought of as outdated or something only children did. The website linked to a blog, which was mostly photos of Carrie doing different things. It didn’t take too long to find the picture of her with the llama with a caption about how she and her boss got it from a homeless guy. And then just products. Pictures and pictures of products, and then little captions about how the products inspired her. Motherfucker, thought Megan. She doesn’t get it at all. It was like looking at an ad for deodorant or laundry soap that made you feel smelly and like you’d been doing something wrong that the person in the ad had already figured out, but since it was an ad, there was no real way to smell the person and judge for yourself whether or not the person stank, and that was what she hated, hated, hated most of all. I make things, gee-wow. You think you’re an artist? Do you really thing this blog is a representation of art, that great universalizer? That great transmigrator? This isolating schlock that makes me feel like I have to buy into you and your formula for happiness? Work as a freelance designer, grow beets, travel, have lots of people who like you, and above all have funsies! “Everything okay?” asked Jillian. “Yeah, what?” “Breathing kind of heavy over there, just making sure you were okay and everything.” “Oh, uh-huh, I’m fine,” said Megan. “It’s not . . . something I’m doing, is it?” “What? No. No, I’m fine,” said Megan. How could someone not understand that other people could be unhappy? What kind of callous, horrible bullshit was that to say to a bunch of twenty-yearolds, particularly, when this was the time in life when things were even more acutely painful than they were in high school, that nightmare fuck, because now there were actual stakes and everyone was coming to grips with the fact that they’re going to die and that life might be empty and unrewarding. Why even bring it up? Why even make it part of your mini-bio?

Guys and girls *can* be friends, you know. It happens." "Only if there's no attraction either way," Sam says. "Otherwise, it's usually friendship with some hopefulness attached to it." I swallow hard. It's easy to say that Weston and I are just friends. It's harder to say that I'm not attracted to him. Id' be crazy not to notice how handsome my best friend is. Tall and board-shouldered with caramel eyes and dark hair. I even like his beard, which is just the right length for kissing without giving your face an unwanted microdermabrasion. NOT that I've thought about kissing him. (I totally have.) And his thoughtfulness, sense of fun, and quirky sense of humor, and Weston is a catch some girl should have snapped up already. I gave up a dream of that girl being me years ago. "Nope. No attraction." "Really? Huh." She looks thoughtful. "Guess I was wrong." Sam is dangling bait in front of me. I know it's bait, but I still can't resist nibbling.

„Dear Fernandamama, I need to borrow some quick cash from you, about 900 Euros to be honest. This f...g Adam guy’s fines arrived on my name. He is paying your children and drugging them, this f...g godless Israeli criminal, with his f...g junkie friends and family, influencing your children is not good for our health, Fernandamama. You know. The coffeeshop. On my name. This f...g Adam guy is the reason why Martina is gone and the f...g coffeeshop, huh? I should have killed him when I had the chances, what do you say, Fernanda? Your silence tells me odes, Fernandamama since weeks if not months. Meaning, you know better if I should have taken care of Adam on time and closed the club last summer when you came to visit „us.” I need to pay for these Zaragoza fines Adam collected for my name Fernanda. I need my money to give it away to the landlord so that Martina has a home. You know, without my coffeeshop on my name. I hope you understand. I pay you back just like the 6-800 you landed us earlier. If Martina allows me to contact you, if I wasn’t a ghost in Barcelona made believe. You know. Thanks. Cheers, Tomas

Whistling past the graveyard,” Julie intones. “Rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic.” I laugh. “Yes, but it’s not just death that has everyone flustered. Anyone can create a scenario to deal with death. But what’s beyond that scenario? Another scenario? And another? Eventually you run out of turtles.” “Huh? Turtles?” “A student goes to his teacher and asks ‘What does the world rest upon, master?’ To which the teacher replies ‘On the back of a giant turtle.’ The student, not to be so easily put off, asks ‘And what does the turtle rest upon, oh wise one?’ To which the teacher replies, ‘Upon another turtle.’ The student is not ready to give up. ‘And what does that turtle rest on?’ he asks, to which the master angrily replies, ‘Don’t you get it? It’s turtles all the way down!’” Julie laughs and nods her head. “The truth of the situation is that eventually, there’s nothing. Infinity. Eternity. The void. The abyss. Eventually, every water-treader has to deal with the fact that it’s just him, the infinite ocean and nothing in-between.” “And that everything else is a lie.” “Basically, yes. The body is just a rental car and this planet is just a motel. This is nobody’s home, though some treat it like a permanent residence; as if the worst thing that can possibly happen is that you pick up and move on. How absurd, and yet, how absolutely vital to the experience. Look at things in this light and you’ll see the countless ways in which society encourages the externalized self and mocks, discourages and combats the very notion of turning inward. Alan Watts called it the taboo against knowing who you are. In order to break with one’s false self, one would have to break with…” “…everything.” Julie says. “Family, friends…” Her voice falters as she considers the ramifications. “Everything. Everything you are… everything you know… everything… Really everything.” I

That went well,” he said. “I’ll suffer for it later. Her interrogation techniques would crack a hardened criminal in seconds.” “I think you’re exaggerating. She’s very sweet.” “Uh-huh. Then why didn’t you tell her you’re my husband?” He had the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her. She just met me and the children. It’s a lot to absorb. We’ll explain it to her later.” “Uh-huh.” “Besides, I’m going to ask her to plan and organize a big beautiful wedding for you.” “Interesting strategy. Bribe her first, then blindside her. Good luck with that.” He laughed. “I’m sure she will be thrilled since she missed our tiny ceremony. And I want your family and friends to be able to share in our joy.

Marceline the Vampire Queen: "Marceline to Bubblegum. Come in Bubblegum. You there? "...No? " Well, good. Cause I got some things to say to you and I don't want you to hear them. "I'm complicated, alright? "You should know that by now. "Okay, so I'm not stupid. I know our lives are moving us in different directions, okay? I get that. I get that nothing lasts forever, believe me. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. "It's just--the way you act like nothing's wrong, it makes me SO mad. You know that, right? It makes me feel like I'm the only one who remembers how our friendship USED to be, who sees how it's changing. It feels like a betrayal. It feels lousy, Bonnie. And familiar. "This isn't my first rodeo. "And I know that you've got your hands full with your new kingdom, okay? I get that you're busy, and I want you to be busy. You're doing something so ambitious, so crazy ... "I know you can do it. You're gonna be the one who changes the world, Bonnie. I've seen it in you. "But there's gotta be a balance there, you know? A way where we can stay friends, a way where I don't feel so hurt all the time. And it's not all you--I know I've been major cheesed because of this and that's not fun for anyone. "... I'll be a better friend, too. "Listen, I'm gonna come by tomorrow, help you build those Candy Kingdom retaining walls. Maybe we can punch some ooze monsters while we're at it, right? I'd like that. Right in the buns, yo. "You've been my best friend for so long, and we're not gonna lose that. We'll figure this out, Bubblegum. "Huh. 'Princess Bubblegum.' You know, it actually DOES sound kinda cool. "My friend the princess. "I think I could get used to that. "Over and out.

As we reached town, the truck bounced from the dirt road to the pavement, and something underneath made an ugly cracking sound. “It’s been doing that,” Daniel said. “Just ignore it. Corey says he’ll take a look on the weekend.” “Well, no matter how dire the situation, if my dad offers you a new truck, don’t do it. There’s a serious string attached.” “Huh?” he said. I told him what my dad had said. That got him laughing and as we pulled into the school parking lot, even the sight of Rafe waiting for me only made him roll his eyes. We got out. I glanced at Daniel. He sighed. “Go on.” “You sound like you’re giving a five-year-old permission to play with an unsuitable friend.” “If the shoe fits…” I flipped him off. “Watch it or I won’t marry you,” he said. “Truck or no truck.” I laughed and jogged over to Rafe. “Did he just say…?” Rafe began. “Yes. And don’t ask.

Devlin said, “So…” “So?” “You know what I’m going to ask,” he said with a huge grin. “What?” “Come on, you can tell me.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Really? I think you do.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t. What are you asking about?” “You and Alex. What’s going on?” “Huh? Nothing! We’re just friends.” “Are you sure? I saw you take her to the dance floor.” “So what? Friends dance, don’t they?” “And you walked her home.” Omg… this must be what Alex was concerned about. “Naw, we’re just friends,” I explained. “I don’t think so. I think I see a bit of magic going on there.” I shook my head. “Naw, she would never be interested in me.” “Oh? But are you interested in her?” “What?! N-no! Of course not.” “Really?” We arrived at our front doors. “I mean, she’s attractive and all…” I said. “Yeah, she’s beautiful. I think everyone is attracted to her.” “Yourself included.” Devlin chuckled. “Yeah, because she’s so pretty. So, you must be attracted to her, too.” “N-no-no! I mean, she’s just a friend.” “A very pretty friend,” Devlin said and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.” “Secret?! There is no secret!” “Sure, there isn’t,” Devlin said as he wore a sly smile. “Let’s just hope your other girlfriend didn’t see that little event, or else she might get jealous.” “Omg… other girlfriend? What are you talking about?” “Oh, nothing! Good night, Steve!” Devlin jumped into his house and shut his door.   “Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave!

If we can secure victory in this Team Shokugeki and unseat the current Council of Ten... then I shall humbly accept the First Seat as my due! This battle is nothing less than the battle to restore the rightful queen to her throne, and I shall see us victorious! The rest of you are... yes. You shall be my loyal entourage, who dutifully serve and revere their queen! Be honored!" "Whoa. Talk about force of personality." "Yay! It's like she's finally back to her old self!" "Heh. A wonderful sight, if I do say so myself. The royal dignity of a queen at all times. That has always suited her best, I think." "Isn't it nice she's feeling better now, Soma? Um... Soma?" "Hold it right there, Nakiri! Where do you get off deciding that?! The First Seat is mine! You hear me?!" "Hold your tongue and listen to your betters, commoner!" "Hey! Don't you underestimate the strength of family cooking, Nakiri! What happened to all that modest and sweet "friends to the bottom of your heart" stuff, huh?!" "That was that. This is an entirely different matter! You just need to listen when the Divine Tongue tells you what's what!" "Daaad! Get over here and tell her!" "N-no fair! Getting Chef Saiba involved is against the rules!" "That was great, Erina. No, really. You did an awesome job... ... standing up to that stubborn blockhead of a father of yours." I think somewhere, somehow a certain father and son may have rubbed off on me a little.

What happened to you?” Monica accused over a tray of leafy greens. “What?” Joy said. “Nothing.” “Well, that nothing has you eating your salad with a spoon.” Embarrassed, Joy switched utensils, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting her fingers linger there. She grinned again. “I’m just thinking,” she said, poking the lettuce, “about stuff.” “Thinking stuff.” Monica nodded and chewed. “Sounds dangerous.” “Not yet,” Joy chirped. Monica slapped both hands on her tray, “Okay, that’s it— spill.” “What?” “What ‘what?’ Don’t give me ‘what’ and expect me not to ask ‘what?’” Monica pointed her fork at Joy’s nose. “You’ve been a total nut job ever since that night at the Carousel, and what with breaking windows and random notes and skipping off after school, you think I don’t know there’s a ‘what?’” Monica sounded angry, which was her protective-sisterhood thing. Joy tried not to laugh. “Is it drugs?” Monica hissed over her salad. “Because if it’s drugs, so help me, I will beat your sorry pale pink butt from here to next Thursday. I will call your dad, I will call the cops and I will even call Gordon and cancel our date!” “Whoa.” Joy waved a napkin in surrender. “It’s not drugs. No drugs. I swear. Remember? No Stupid,” Joy said, but had to add, “But there is a someone.” “A someone?” “A someone.” “A guy?” Joy rolled her eyes. “Yes, a guy. There’s a guy. I like guys.” Monica pursed her lips. “There’s a guy and you like guys and you met a guy, this Someone-A-Guy?” Joy prodded her lunch, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “There’s a guy and I don’t know what I think about him. I’m just…thinking about him. A lot.” “Mmm,” Monica said noncommittally. “So does this guy have a name?” Joy considered the question. “Yes.” “Yes?” Monica prompted with a wave of speared iceberg lettuce. “And?” “And there’s not much to talk about.” Joy shrugged and took a wide bite of sandwich, filling her mouth. She couldn’t decide whether Indelible was his first name or Ink, but neither sounded particularly normal. As opposed to Gordon Wiener-Schnitzel. Still, it was a subject best avoided. “Uh-huh.” Monica joined Joy in a long bout of chewing. They exchanged glances and evasions like fencing partners until Monica swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “So, this mysterious Someone-A-Guy that you can’t stop thinking about— would I, as your best friend, theoretically speaking, give him a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down?” Two thumbs down, definitely, for mysteryguywhostabbedmeintheeye. Joy swallowed. “He’s not your type,” she said diplomatically. “But he’s your type?” Monica said. “And, what is your type, exactly?” “He’s…” Joy stumbled, trying to find the words. “Exciting. Intellectual. A little sad, which can be sweet.” The flash in her eye inspired her. “He’s an artist.” “An artist?” Monica sneered around cukes. “Please do not tell me that you’re going to go all emo on me. That’s worse than drugs.

I walked into my sis’s room… and saw nothing but her ass and spread open p*ssy she is on her knees, on her little bed, with bubbly little mermaid bedding, look at that her butt is shown pointing towards the door, got yah- I see lots of her… and so will my friends… if I send this to them. Payback sister- the wetness running out of her, let's put it that way. I think you know what that crap is. I have to prove I am not a complete p*ssy, and will not put up with my little sister getting more than me, like taking my men. Seeing this Maddie and Liv say- her but was like in our faces, I knew it would be set to more girls, yet I did not have the heart to. That was up to my friends to see if they were real friends. You can see and hear sighing in her Arial-themed room to every inward and outward stroke. I even see her rubbing it in rotating patterns, with her fingers also, into it. Uh-ah, uh-huh- Oh-Oo-a, ow- yeah, she feels everything deep I will say that for her. Man, she can bend it in, she has known I have this all on my cell, and I am looking in at her, the door not closed. Look at her next to her stuffed dog, she is rubbing it also on her vagina Maddie said I can send this to her seven, and so did Olivia. If Jenny was here, what do you think she would have done with this video? (Hall discussions at lockers number 94 and 96.) I would if she sent this to anyone else, if so, that is not nice. Locker 95 is now sitting as it was, but with like a drop-off of flowers and bars, and photos stuck on the door for her memory. Girls kissing the door, and boys, it is nuts, you don’t want to see what's inside there, it's freaky. Olivia- I wonder if we could get our lockers changed. It was nice then when we all wanted to be together, now not so much, this turns me so off. Did you see that Maggie is getting a life now that she is gone? Olivia- Yes, yes, I did, I wonder if Jenny was the one doing that too. Maddie- she liked her so I say know. Liv- may be…? Maddie- Do you miss her? Liv- Not always- yet she pops into my mind once in a while. Karly about the video (not with the girls, alone.) I showed her one, and now she seems to have it- good for her. I think she does it better than me, b*tch- is what the girls well think too I just know it, I love her, look you can see her face in the pillow, cute right, arched back, putting her two fingers in and out, and I forget how old she, yet see this crap, she looks like a professional, my girls will get it.

Is she here?” Sawyer asked, scanning the empty bar. He’d thought she would come to me too. “No.” “Where is she?” “I don’t know.” Sawyer stalked toward me. God, I didn’t want to hit him. I just wanted Ash. The real Ash. The one he didn’t know. The one he’d never be able to love. “How could you do this, Beau? You’re like my brother.” The pain in his eyes felt like a knife twisting in my gut. It wasn’t enough to make me regret anything, but it hurt like hell. “You don’t know her. You never did.” “I don’t know her? I don’t know her? Who in the hell do you think you are, Beau? She’s been mine for three years. Three years. The two of you hardly acknowledged each other for those three years. Then I leave for the summer and you two make up? Become friends? What exactly happened? Because the bullcrap she tried to feed me outside the church isn’t gonna fly.” Do I tell him the truth? He deserved the truth, but I couldn’t tell him everything without Ash’s consent. It was her story too. “We got close. We spent time together. We remembered why we were so close when we were younger.” I stopped and stared at him. There was one truth he needed to know, one truth that was mine to tell. But admitting it would probably kill any chance of us ever getting over this. It all boiled down to who was more important. My cousin, the one guy I’d always known would stand by me no matter what, my best friend. Then there was Ash, the one person I couldn’t live without, not anymore. “I love her.” Sawyer’s jaw dropped, then clenched within a second. He was gearing up to take a swing at me. I could see it in his stance. “You. Love. Her,” he repeated in angry disbelief. “Are you aware that I intend to marry her one day? What about you, Beau, huh? You planning on marrying her? Moving her into your mama’s trailer? Maybe she could get a job working here with Aunt Honey once her parents completely cut her off.” My fist slammed into his face before I knew what was happening.

That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t really need you to tell me how you don’t always remember to take the buggy back to the return place in the parking lot or you don’t make it to the nursing home every week.” I started to walk away, angry at myself for sounding like a jerk but needing to get the hell away from her. This had been a mistake. A big-ass mistake that I was going to pay for. “Those are things Sawyer has to help me remember…But I wasn’t exactly referring to them.” She said it so softly I almost didn’t hear her. I should keep walking. I needed to stop this. But I never did the right thing. I turned back around to look at her. She was peering up at me through her wet eyelashes. “I’m just like any other teenage girl. I envy Nicole because she can be who she wants to be. I can’t. But it isn’t Sawyer’s fault. I’ve never been able to give in to those urges. My parents expect me to be good.” What the hell? “You want to be like Nicole?” I asked in horror. She laughed and shook her head. “Not exactly. I don’t desire to vomit on myself and be carried inside my house drunk…or be known as a slut. But just once I’d like to know what it feels like to do more than just kiss. To be touched.” She stopped and turned her gaze back toward the water. “Maybe to know what the thrill of sneaking out of my house feels like or how it feels to be wanted by someone so desperately they can’t help themselves when they kiss me. Maybe to just feel desirable.” She stopped again and covered her face with both her hands. “Please forget I said all that.” Talk about an impossible request. I was having a hard enough time breathing. Ah, fuck it all to hell. I was screwed. I needed to remember Sawyer. I loved him. He was my family. He was an idiot for not kissing every damn spot on Ashton’s sexy little body and enjoying the gift he had. But he was still my family. I couldn’t do this. She let her hands drop away from her face and turned her guilt-ridden expression back up toward me. The lost look in her eyes was killing me. I wanted to assure her nothing was wrong with her. I wanted to promise to show her exactly how insane she made me. I could show her in five minutes just how desirable she was. She stood up. “So now you know my secrets, Beau. Just like old times. I think that makes us friends again, huh?” The smile on her lips trembled. Fuck me. “Yeah, I’d say it does.” I replied as regret consumed me.

She told the audience that they were going to make a fine old chestnut, Baked Alaska. "First you have to have a soft meringue, at just the perfect stage." The camera went in for a close-up of the meringue. "We have six egg whites, superfine sugar, and vanilla, with some cream of tartar to keep them stable. Are they ready, Danny?" "Not quite," he said and ran the machine for a few seconds. "There." He removed the bowl and held it out for Sally to see. "Stiff, but not dry," she said. "But we'd better be sure." And she rested an egg on the whites and told the audience that it should sink in exactly one inch. "Perfect. Let's put the Baked Alaska together." Sally brushed the cake with rum-flavored sugar syrup while Danny explained what it was; then Danny turned the ice cream out on top of the cake and Sally pulled off the plastic wrap. They filled their pastry bags and swirled on the meringue. Sally beamed at Danny and said that everyone should cook with a friend. "It's so much more fun." Danny dusted the cake all over with powdered sugar and then reached under the counter and pulled out a blowtorch. Sally looked at it and said, "Huh," then pulled out a blowtorch twice the size and grinned at Danny. "Yours is kind of small. Can it do the job?" "We'll see," he said and together they torched the dessert.

Still playing hard to get, huh?" "Not hard to get at all," Luke replied with a cocky grin. "Just hard to keep." A smirk played at her mouth. "That sounds like a challenge.

Brandon picked up his beer and tipped it at me. “Josh is actually great at that. That’s why he always bags a bird.” He was wingmanning me for Kristen. I just hoped she found dead turkeys sexy. Kristen smiled at me. A genuine smile. “Have you hunted all your life?” “Yup.” I put the lid on the pot call and handed it back to Brandon. Kristen poked at her salad. Then she looked back up at me, her eyes innocent. “Is it true that ‘vegetarian’ is a Native American word for ‘bad hunter’?” Brandon laughed so suddenly he choked. I smiled at her, happy to see her coming back to her old self. “You know, I still don’t have a car,” Sloan said over her pasta after Brandon stopped laughing. “You two broke my Corolla.” Kristen snorted. “Really? You’re going to put this on us? The hamster probably died.” “What hamster?” Sloan looked confused. Kristen skewered a crouton. “The one running in the wheel under the hood.” Brandon and I laughed, and Sloan pressed her lips into a line, trying to look angry, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. “How can you let her drive that thing?” I shook my head at Brandon. “I told her, I don’t know how many times, that I’ll buy her a new car,” Brandon said, still chuckling. Sloan shrugged. “I don’t want a new car. That was the car I learned to drive in. I had my first kiss in that car.” Brandon gave her a mock serious look. “Well, then it definitely has to go.” Sloan smiled at him and leaned over and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. I watched my best friend look at her for a moment after she went back to her food. He really loved her. I remembered the first time he started talking about her, three years ago. We were sitting in a duck blind in South Dakota, and he went on for hours about this woman he’d been seeing. I’d never seen him so into someone. I made a mental note to talk about that during my best-man speech. “Hey, didn’t you two meet on a call?” I asked, trying to recall the story he’d told me. “At a hospital or something?” Sloan smiled sweetly at Brandon. “Yeah. I only gave him my number because he was in uniform.” I grinned. “Can’t say no to a man in uniform, huh?” I twirled my fork around my pasta. It was incredible. Some kind of venison Bolognese. Sloan was a great cook. Kristen and I really should eat here more often. “No, I can,” she said. “It’s just I figured they wouldn’t let a felon or registered sex offender into the fire department.

Coney Island Baby" You know, man, when I was a young man in high school You believe in or not, that I wanted to play football for the coach All those older guys, they said he was mean and cruel But you know, I wanted to play football, for the coach They said I was to little too light weight to play line-back So I say I'm playing right-in Wanted to play football for the coach Cause, you know some day, man, you gotta stand up straight Unless you're gonna fall Then you're gonna die And the straightest dude I ever knew Was standing right for me, all the time So I had to play football for the coach And I wanted to play football for the coach When you're all alone and lonely in your midnight hour And you find that your soul, it has been up for sale And you getting to think about, all the things you done And you getting to hate just about everything But remember the princess who lived on the hill Who loved you even though she knew you was wrong And right now she just might come shining through and the glory of love, glory of love Glory of love, just might come through And all your two-bit friends have gone and ripped you off They're talking behind your back saying, man you are never going to be a human being And you start thinking again About all those things that you've done And who it was and what it was And all the different things you made every different scene Ah, but remember that the city is a funny place Something like a circus or a sewer And just remember, different people have peculiar tastes And the Glory of love, the glory of love The glory of love, might see you through Yeah, but now, now Glory of love, the glory of love The glory of love, might see you through Glory of love, ah, huh, huh, the glory of love Glory of love, glory of love Glory of love, now, glory of love, now Glory of love, now, now, now, glory of love Glory of love, give it to me now, glory of love see you through Oh, my Coney Island baby, now (I'm a Coney Island baby, now) I'd like to send this one out for Lou and Rachel And the Lord appeared and he has one made of two Coney Island baby Man, I swear, I'd give the whole thing up for you Lou Reed, Coney Island Baby (1975)

One of Betty’s friends turned and tossed a shot of cayenne and lemon juice in the face of a bookstore supporter, who cried, “My eyes,” and staggered backward. Another ball of ice cream arced overhead and nailed one of the cops, who didn’t take it very well. Nina turned to see who was throwing the frosty artillery just as another scoop glanced off her head and hit Betty, this time in the face. Betty stomped her foot. “I. Am. Lactose. Intolerant!” she cried. “No, you’re just completely intolerable,” replied the Reader, and pushed her. Nina reached up and felt her head, which was sticky. She heard giggling. Lydia was amused. “You’ve got a little . . . something something . . .” Lydia wiped a little drip from Nina’s forehead and tasted it. “Huh,” she said. “Mint chip. Surprising.” She opened her mouth to continue and took a gluten-free cupcake right in the cake hole, which was also surprising. She sputtered. Nina grinned. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Lydia.” A mini cupcake—or it might have been a brownie; it was moving too fast to tell—whizzed by and knocked off the Reader’s glasses. The cops, who had been well trained (though, admittedly, not for a food fight), started pushing through the crowd, looking for the troublemakers. This made the people on the outside of the crowd, who couldn’t see very well, assume something more serious was going on. They started to run or, at least, move swiftly away. This was Larchmont, after all; no need for unseemly panic. The ice cream bandit sent a last volley over the heads of the thinning crowd, and both Nina and Lydia were in the line of fire. Professional hit, double scoop. Lydia, who had decided to see the funny side of it, clutched her arm, which was covered in sprinkles. “I’m hit,” she cried, and staggered backward. “Cold . . . so cold . . .” said Nina, channeling the heroic death of so many matinee idols. She made it to the bookstore front door and did a creditable death slide down it. Then she remembered why she was there.

I am a time jumper. I time jump into totally random people in history. Huh? Yeah, I thought the same thing when I found out. Let me explain. You know when someone wants a part in a play, or a movie, or a TV show, and they say, “I want to play the lead!” Or maybe they look at the script and say, “I want to play the bad guy! Bad guys are fun.” Or “I want to play the comedic best friend!” Yeah, that’s not me. I never play the lead, bad guy, or sidekick. I’m the character nobody thinks about. In school, I’m called an NPC. A nonplayer character in a video game. Kids don’t even notice if I wave at them. That’s probably why I was given this totally random power. If you’re not noticed in real life, you’re probably not going to get to time jump into anybody interesting from the past. According to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, my power gives me the ability to sonder. Basically, I can transport into random humans in history. Like an extra in an epic historical movie. Seemingly insignificant and utterly pointless in the grand scheme of extraordinary historical moments. I can tell you’re looking around wondering, What is wrong with this kid, and why am I still reading or listening to his story? I wouldn’t blame you if you just stopped right here and bailed. I mean, who wants to read the extra’s backstory? I never did. And yet, here I am, literally able to time jump! But only into random extras in history. I have so much knowledge about history’s unimportant characters that I decided to write it all down and tell someone. And

What’s your limit, huh? You gonna let me cut you up? Tie you up and leave you hanging? Beat you? Choke you until you pass out? Or does it not matter, as long as I keep my eyes on your face and my cock in your cunt? That’s fucking pathetic. You’re pathetic. And not worth my time. I could do much better than you. What about your friend? What was her name? Mallory? Yeah, why don’t you call her? Bet she’s a lot more fun. You’re just a disgusting little freak.

Look at you!” Emberly declared. “Making new friends all over Sphere, huh?” Dorian grinned, rolling his shoulders as the sting faded. “Figured it was about time I tried that instead of just making enemies.