Um Sorry Quotes

Hey, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a friend of mine," he says. "Have you seen her? She's a tiny little thing, cries a lot, spends too much time with her feelings-" "Shut up, Kenji!" "Oh wait!" he says. "It is you.

As for my brothers," Zeus said, "we are thankful"-he cleared his throat like the words were hard to get out-"erm, thankful for the aid of Hades." The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd earned the right. He patted his son Nico on the shoulders, and Nico looked happier than I'd ever seen him. "And, of course," Zeus continued, though he looked like his pants were smoldering, "we must...um...thank Poseidon." "I'm sorry, brother," Poseidon said. "What was that?" "We must thank Poseidon," Zeus growled. "Without whom . . . it would've been difficult-" "Difficult?" Poseidon asked innocently. "Impossible," Zeus said. "Impossible to defeat Typhon.

Finally, Cinder gulped. "I'm sorry I had to --" She gestured at the unconscious wedding coordinator, then waved her hand like shaking it off. "But she'll be fine, I swear. Maybe a little nauseous when she comes to, but otherwise...And your android...Nainsi, right? I had to disable her. And her backup processor. But any mechanic can return her to defaults in about six seconds, so..." She rubbed anxiously at her wrist. "Oh, and we ran into your captain of the guard in the hallway, and a few other guards, and I may have scared him and he's, um, unconscious. Also. But, really, they'll all be fine. I swear." Her lips twitched into a brief, nervous smile. "Um...hello, again. By the way.

Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea. Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head. Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet.

What are you doing now?" Al questioned "Seeing if your circumcision is gone? It is. My expression went blank, and Trent hesitated. He looked at me, and I put a hand to my mouth, face flaming. "Oh. My. God. Trent. I'm sorry" "Um" Trent said, clearly at a loss. "Call me tomorrow," Al said seriously, "I've got a curse that will take care of that. Unless you like the snake in a turtleneck look

Darius held Stark back from launching himself at Neferet, and Duantia spoke quickly into the rising tension. 'Neferet, I think we can all agree that there are many unanswered questions about the tragedy that occured on our island today. Stark, we also understand the passion and rage you feel at the loss of your Priestess. it is a hard blow for a Warrior to-' Duantia's wisdom was cut off by the sound of Aretha Franklin belting out the chorus from "Respect," which was coming from the little Coach purse Aphrodite had slung over her shoulder. Oopsie, um, sorry 'bout that.' Aphrodite frantically unzipped her purse and dug for her iPhone.

Why does that kid think so highly of himself?" "Kids that think they're so smart.They're everywhere! Destroy is self-esteem!" "Yes...I really do think highly of myself.People like me should get a taste of the ups and downs of life! Sorry I'm so envious.I will reflect upon this. Please don't be angry. "Ah..um.." "There, I said it now. Are you satisfied?" ........ "Bye bye!" Beat him.....Beat him until he reaches heaven...!!! -random people and Hiro-chan

Um ,sorry. I cant read the last line." "Fish. Have you stolen any fish from the holy lakes?" "I lived in Kansas..So ..no

Depois olhas para ela e sorris um sorriso que o teu rosto hipócrita irá recordar até ao fim dos teus dias. Querida, dizes, isto é apenas um capítulo do meu romance. É assim que a perdes.

Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?" "I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand." "Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...] He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running." "Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe—by the side of the road?" Damen nods. But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red. "A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options." Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing—why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight—you just woke up and decided—Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road—WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?" Damen shrugs. "Pretty much." "Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unusual they're forced to rely on the kindness of friends for the rest of their lives!" "Sorry." Damen shrugs. "Guess I hadn't thought about that. Though if it makes you feel any better, it was all for a very good cause.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought it kind of suited me. With the right shoes and everything.” I displayed the new blue pumps. “I wanted to look, you know, pretty.” Yves gaped. I felt a little bit sorry for him. “Um…Phee, I don’t know what to say.” I let my bright expression dim. “You… you think I look horrible in it?” My voice rose in a convincing squeak of distress. He put his hands on my soulders. “No, you look great. You always look great, no matter what you’re wearing.” Zed laughed. “Ouch. Wrong thing to say.

There's something I have to say," I said seriously, looking her in the eye. She smiled. "Oookay." She was mocking me-mocking my tone-but I didn't care. "Okay. Here it is. I love you," I said. "And I never, ever wanted to hurt you. It's like, the number one thing I never want to do, but somehow, I keep doing it. And I'm sorry, I just...that's all I wanted to say all this time. All I was trying to do...with that thing with your dad, not telling you...was not to hurt you. And I'm sorry that I did. Alley stared at me. "And I'm sorry that I did it again. With the Chloe thing. Which was stupid. Like, really, really, stupid. And I-" "Can you just stop, for a second?" Ally said, holding up a hand. "What?" I said. "Can you say the first part again?" she asked, rolling her fingers around for a rewind. I racked my brain. "Um...I love you?" I said. "That's the part, Cuz I love you, too.

Her face reddened. "Sorry, i, um, assumed that, you know, that since you said i was yours, that we would kind of, i guess..." Damn, she was cute when she stammered.

Um, sorry we touched your precious," I say, pointing to his guitar. He chuckles. "Normally I'd want to break your fingers but since you knew what you were doing and used her for good instead of evil, I'll say it's no problem." "What constitutes evil?" "Taylor Swift.

maybe you’re sleeping and I suppose I could just say this in the morning, but now I can’t sleep and I’m just lying here so I might as well get it over with, and well . . .I’m sorry about this afternoon, J.D. The first spill honestly was an accident, but the second . . . okay, that was completely uncalled for. I’m, um, happy to pay for the dry cleaning. And, well . . . I guess that’s it. Although you really might want to rethink leaving your jacket on your chair. I’m just saying. Okay, then. That’s what they make hangers for. Good. Fine. Good-bye.” J.D. heard the beep, signaling the end of the message, and he hung up the phone. He thought about what Payton had said—not so much her apology, which was question-ably mediocre at best—but something else. She thought about him while lying in bed. Interesting. Later that night, having been asleep for a few hours, J.D. shot up in bed He suddenly remembered—her shoe. Oops.

The window flew open all the way. The stack of papers in Lincoln’s hand was sucked out. “Oh man,” said Eddie. “I’m so sorry.” “Do not be disconsolate,” said Lincoln. “Perhaps we have just witnessed the hand of Providence.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a broad envelope and a pen. “I have some thoughts.” He stared into the distance. “How about, ‘Four score and seven years ago—” “That’s, um, thirty-five, right?” said Eddie. “Four scores is twenty-eight points. Unless they went for two-point conversions.

Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth’s half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. “Um, sorry,” he said. “Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you.” I stepped away from Annabeth. “We were just looking at maps,” I said stupidly. Malcolm stared at me. “Okay.” “Tell Chiron I’ll be right there,” Annabeth said, and Malcolm left in a hurry.

Hi, this is Julia. I'm sorry i'm not able to take your call right now, but please leave your deets and i'll get right back to you. Um....if this is Ryan, i'm thinking of you this very minute and i love you.

I'm sorry about dragging you into my evil schemes with my masculine wiles. I didn't realise, um, the force of my own wiliness. I don't actually use my wiles a lot.

Do you remember the section on controlling demons in Demonologies? I believe it's in chapter five." "Um...no." Irritation flashed over his face. "Honestly, Sophie, I gave you that book for a reason." "And I'm really sorry, but it's long and boring,and can we just skip to the part where you tell me what it says?

Abigail,’ he says. ‘I thought it was you.’ ‘Hi!’ I say loudly. ‘Mark!’ ‘Who?’ says Robert. Fuck, he doesn’t know his real name. Why do I give everyone stupid nicknames? ‘I almost don’t recognise you out of your SKINNY JEANS,’ I enunciate carefully. He’s wearing grey flannel trousers and a pink T-Shirt with leather Converses. He speaks clothes exceptionally confidently for a straight man. I wonder if he’d take me shopping. ‘Oh, right. Got it.’ ‘That’s odd,’ says Skinny Jeans. ‘Since I was wearing nothing at all when you left my room without saying goodbye . . . let’s see, seven weeks ago?’ ‘Um, yes. Well, you know . . .’ I trail off. Come on, Robert, I think desperately. ‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ says Robert. Yes! Make a joke! ‘I’m sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?’ I say. Skinny Jeans grins. ‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray?’ ‘Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray with a rose on it?’ I say. ‘Don’t fuck with my script,’ says Robert, which makes me grin slightly more broadly

I hurried out of the lobby and turned the corner into the English hall, so I didn’t see the guy in front of me until it was too late. “Oh!” I exclaimed as we bumped shoulders. “Sorry!” Then I realized who I’d bumped into, and I immediately regretted my apologetic tone. If I’d known it was David Stark, I would have tried to hit him harder, or maybe stepped on his foot with the spiky heel of my new shoes for good measure. I did my best to smile at him, though, even as I realized my stomach was jumping all over the place. He must have scared me more than I’d thought. David scowled at me over the rims of his ridiculous hipster glasses, the kind with the thick black rims. I hate those. I mean, it’s the 21st century. There are fashionable options for eyewear. “Watch where you’re going,” he said. Then his lips twisted in a smirk. “Or could you not see through all that mascara?” I would’ve loved nothing more than the tell him to kiss my ass, but one of the responsibilities of being a student leader at The Grove is being polite to everyone, even if he is a douchebag who wrote not one, but three incredibly unflattering articles in the school paper about what a crap job you’re doing as SGA president. And you especially needed to be polite to said douchebag when he happened to be the nephew of Saylor Stark, President of the Pine Grove Junior League, head of the Pine Grove Betterment Society, Chairwoman of the Grove Academy School Board, and, most importantly, Founder and Organizer of Pine Grove’s Annual Cotillion. So I forced myself to smile even bigger at David and said, “Nope, just in a hurry. Are you, uh… are you here for the dance?” He snorted. “Um, no. I’d rather slam my testicles in a locker door. I have some work to do on the paper.

Screw the wedding—crap. Hold on... No, honey, of course I still want to get married! I was talking to Stella about the, um, wedding planner…no, don’t fire her. She’s great. I was just frustrated in the moment. Bridal nerves, you know. I’m fine now. Yes, I promise...why did I call for you? Uh, I’m craving those new raspberry lemon cookies from Crumble & Bake. Can you please run down and get some for me? Thank you! Love you. Sorry about that. Alex has been so on edge about the wedding. He made our florist cry the other day... We’re working on his interpersonal skills.

Um, Galen . . . This one is leaking."Styxx Galen laughed. Danae cried out in horror. " am so sorry, Highness! I--" "Bah," Galen scoffed, interrupting her. "Not the worst that boy's had on him, is it, young prince?" "Definitely not. But . . ." He passed Elpis back to Galen. "I fear I have no experience with this realm of domesticity. I've never even seen a pana, never mind tried to apply one to such a small person.

You okay?" he says, touching my cheek. His hand cradles the side of my head, his long fingers slipping through my hair. He smiles and holds my head in place as he kisses me. Heat spreads through me slowly.And fear, buzzing like an alarm in my chest. His lips still on mine,he pushes the jacket from my shoulders.I flinch when I hear it drop,and push him back,my eyes burning. I don't know why I feel this way. I didn't feel like this when he kissed me on the train.I press my palms to my face,covering my eyes. "What? What's wrong?" I shake my head. "Don't tell me it's nothing." His voice is cold.He grabs my arm. "Hey. Look at me." I take my hands from my face and lift my eyes to his.The hurt in his eyes and the anger in his clenched jaw surprise me. "Sometimes I wonder," I say,as calmly as I can, "what's in it for you. This...whatever it is." "What's in it for me," he repeats. He steps back,shaking his head. "You're an idiot,Tris." "I am not an idiot," I say. "Which is why I know that it's a little weird that,of all the girls you could have chosen,you chose me.So if you're just looking for...um,you know...that..." "What? Sex?" He scowls at me. "You know, if that was all I wanted, you probably wouldn't be the first person I would go to." I feel like he just punched me in the stomach. Of course I'm not the first person he would go to-not the first, not the prettiest,not desirable. I press my hands to my abdomen and look away, fighting off tears. I am not the crying type.Nor am I the yelling type. I blink a few times, lower my hands, and stare up at him. "I'm going to leave now," I say quietly. And I turn toward the door. "No,Tris." He grabs my wrist and wrenches me back. I push him away,hard, but he grabs my other wrist, holding our crossed arms between us. "I'm sorry I said that," he says. "What I meant was that you aren't like that. Which I knew when I met you." "You were an obstacle in my fear landscape." My lower lip wobbles. "Did you know that?" "What?" He releases my wrists, and the hurt look is back. "You're afraid of me?" "Not you," I say. I bite my lip to keep it still. "Being with you...with anyone. I've never been involved with someone before,and...you're older, and I don't know what your expectations are,and..." "Tris," he says sternly, "I don't know what delusion you're operating under,but this is all new to me, too." "Delusion?" I repeat. "You mean you haven't..." I raise my eyebrows. "Oh. Oh.I just assumed..." That because I am so absorbed by him, everyone else must be too. "Um. You know." "Well,you assumed wrong." He looks away. His cheeks are bright,like he's embarrassed. "You can tell me anything, you know," he says. He takes my face in his hands,his fingertips cold and his palms warm. "I am kinder than I seemed in training. I promise." I believe him.But this has nothing to do with his kindness. He kisses me between the eyebrows, and on the tip of my nose,and then carefully fits his mouth to mine. I am on edge.I have electricity coursing through my veins instead of blood. I want him to kiss me,I want him to; I am afraid of where it might go.

Já escondi um amor com medo de perdê-lo, já perdi um amor por escondê-lo. Já segurei nas mãos de alguém por medo, já tive tanto medo, ao ponto de nem sentir minhas mãos. Já expulsei pessoas que amava de minha vida, já me arrependi por isso. Já passei noites chorando até pegar no sono, já fui dormir tão feliz, ao ponto de nem conseguir fechar os olhos. Já acreditei em amores perfeitos, já descobri que eles não existem. Já amei pessoas que me decepcionaram, já decepcionei pessoas que me amaram. Já passei horas na frente do espelho tentando descobrir quem sou, já tive tanta certeza de mim, ao ponto de querer sumir. Já menti e me arrependi depois, já falei a verdade e também me arrependi. Já fingi não dar importância às pessoas que amava, para mais tarde chorar quieta em meu canto. Já sorri chorando lágrimas de tristeza, já chorei de tanto rir. Já acreditei em pessoas que não valiam a pena, já deixei de acreditar nas que realmente valiam. Já tive crises de riso quando não podia. Já quebrei pratos, copos e vasos, de raiva. Já senti muita falta de alguém, mas nunca lhe disse. Já gritei quando deveria calar, já calei quando deveria gritar.

I could seriously get used to having a houseboy,” she said wistfully. He raised an eyebrow. “Boy?” “Er, um, house hottie then? House stud?” He winced. “Sorry I said anything at all. If it ever gets out that you called me your house hottie, I’ll never be able to show my face to my team again.

Um, women aren’t allowed in,” said Esk. Granny stopped in the doorway. Her shoulders rose. She turned around very slowly. “What did you say?” she said. “Did these old ears deceive me, and don’t say they did because they didn’t.” “Sorry,” said Esk. “Force of habit.” “I can see you’ve been getting ideas below your station,

Valette?" Elend asked, stupefied. Vin jumped up, grabbing him in a joyful embrace, hanging onto him tightly and burying her face into his shoulder. "You came back," she whispered. "You came back, you came back, you came back..." "Um, yes. And ... I see that you're a Mistborn. That's rather interesting. You know, it's generally common courtesy to tell one's friends about things like that." "Sorry," she mumbled, still holding on to him. "Well, yes," he said, sounding very distracted. "Um, Valette? What happened to your clothes?" "They're on the floor over there," she said, looking up at him. "Elend, how did you find me?" "Your friend, one Master Dockson, told me that you'd been captured in the palace. And well, this fine gentleman here - Captain Goradel, I believe his name is - happens to be a palace soldier, and he knew the way here. With his help - and as a nobleman of some rank - I was able to get into the building without much problem, and then we heard screaming down this hallway ... And, um, yes. Valette? Do you think you could go put your clothes on? This is ... kind of distracting." She smiled up at him. "You found me." "For all the good it did," he said wryly. "It doesn't look like you needed our help very much..." "That doesn't matter," she said. "You came back. No one's ever come back before.

What do you have to say for yourself, boy?" Cgerise "Sorry, Ma, I'm a sexy demon magnet?" Nick "Cherise!" Bubba "Don't you even take that tone with me, Mr. Triple-Threat-I-don't-have-to-listen-to-anyone-because-I'm-the-size-of-a-tabk. You're in the doghouse, buster. You might as well pack a bag 'cause you're going to be in there so long your name's going to be engraved on the mailbox." Cherise "Ah, what'd I do, cher?" Bubba "You dragged my baby into danger, and you-- Are you one of them?" Cherise "I'm going with whatever answer doesn't get me swatted with that bat." Savitar "Cherise, calm down. What are you doing here?" Bubba "What do you think? I'm protecting my boys. Both of you ... Because Mark values his own life and inparticular his male body parts, he called me after he got off the phone with you to tell me what the two of you were doing. You didn't honestly believe that I've been ignorant of what you and Mark do at night all these years? Did you?" Cherise "Um, yeah." Bubba "Well then you're a fool,Michael Burdette. And I'm not." Cherise

You're wounded," Annabeth told me. "Quick, Percy, get in the water." "I'm okay." "No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this." I was too tired to argue. I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me. Instantly, I felt better. I could feel the cuts on my chest closing up. Some of the campers gasped. "Look, I - I don't know why," I said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry...." But they weren't watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head. "Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um ..." By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. "Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good." "It is determined," Chiron announced. All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it. "My father?" I asked, completely bewildered. "Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.

I'll give them my number, too. And my brother Vishous made sure we have the best reception and service in the city. No dead zones. Unless you're around Lassiter, and that's more of a mental thing than anything about cellular networks." "Um ... Lassiter?" Bitty said. Rhage nodded. "Yeah, he's this pain in the ass--oh, shit--I mean, sorry, I shouldn't say ass around you, should I? Or shit. And all those other bad words." He poked himself in the head. "I gotta remember that, gotta remember that. Anyway, Lassiter's a fallen angel who we've somehow gotten stuck with. He's like gum on the bottom of your shoe. 'Cept he doesn't smell like strawberries, he hogs the T.V. remote, and on a regular basis. you think to yourself, Is that really the best the Creator could do with an immortal? The guy has the worst taste in television--I mean, the only saving grace is that he isn't addicted to Bonanza ...have you ever watched twelve straight hours of Saved by the Bell? Okay, fine, it was probably only seven, and it wasn't like I couldn't have left--my God, I tell you, though, it's a wonder I escaped with my ability to put my pants on one leg at a time still intact ...

Um... slight accident in my alchemy session." Keefe mimed a huge explosion, complete with sound effects. "Destroyed Galvin's cape." Elwin dropped her hand, cracking up. "Wish I could have seen that! Sorry," he added when he caught her scowl.

Augustus Waters,” she said. “Um, maybe?” “Oh, my God. I’ve seen him at parties. The things I would do to that boy. I mean, not now that I know you’re interested in him. But, oh, sweet holy Lord, I would ride that one-legged pony all the way around the corral.” “Kaitlyn,” I said. “Sorry. Do you think you’d have to be on top?” “Kaitlyn,” I said.

I have a boy problem,” I said. “DELICIOUS,” Kaitlyn responded. I told her all about it, complete with the awkward face touching, leaving out only Amsterdam and Augustus’s name. “You’re sure he’s hot?” she asked when I was finished. “Pretty sure,” I said. “Athletic?” “Yeah, he used to play basketball for North Central.” “Huh,” Kaitlyn said. “Out of curiosity, how many legs does this guy have?” “Like, 1.4,” I said, smiling. Basketball players were famous in Indiana, and although Kaitlyn didn’t go to North Central, her social connectivity was endless. “Augustus Waters,” she said. “Um, maybe?” “Oh, my God. I’ve seen him at parties. The things I would do to that boy. I mean, not now that you’re interested in him. But, oh, sweet holy Lord, I would ride that one-legged pony all the way around the corral.” “Kaitlyn,” I said. “Sorry. Do you think you’d have to be on top?” “Kaitlyn,” I said. “What were we talking about. Right, you and Augustus Waters. Maybe…are you gay?

Good,” I said. “Um, can I ask why you’re so mad? Did I do something?”. She exhaled in a sudden gust. “Don’t be stupid, Beau.” “Sorry.

Hey, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a friend of mine,' he says. 'Have you seen her? She's a tiny little thing, cries a lot, spends too much time with her feelings-

What it lacks in pizzaz, it makes up for in practicality,” I said, hoping Aislinn couldn’t hear how terrified I was. But she put her hand on my shoulder-the first time she’d ever touched me-and said, “You’ll be fine. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Sophie Brannick, it’s that you are one tough little thing.” I almost sad, “Sophie Mercer.” Instead I just said, “Thanks, um, Aunt Aislinn.” She pulled her hand back. “Let’s not get carried away.” “Right, sorry.

*After Skulduggery kills Valkyrie* Skulduggery: This has been a good day so far, all things considered, I have the location of the Grotesquey and I got to kill Valkyrie, which admittedly is something I've been wanting to do since I met her, she can be incredibly annoying Scapegrace: Um Skulduggery: She hardly ever shut up, I pretended to be the friends with her, but honestly, I just felt sorry for the poor girl. Not the brightest you know. Valkyrie: You're such a goon.

All right, here’s a limerick: A young martial artist called Dave Was fearless and handsome and brave He saved me from thugs When I nearly got mugged So now I’m forever Dave’s slave.” There was a short silence. I cringed. “Um, sorry. Came out a bit gay, that one.” Bugger, bugger, bugger.

"Joss" "What?" "What?" Dylan asked back. "You just said my name." "No I didn't" "Sorry that was me." I sat up, banging my head on the roof. "Who is that?" "Hey, stay down here where the air is good, okay?" Dylan pulled me gently back down. "Hows your head?" "Not good, I think." "Um, okay, so you here me. Heather's right, you do think loud. I mean, I've never heard you before, but my Talent seems to be a lot more selective than her's. But now that she's got me turned in to you-" "Who are you?" "It's still me, Marshall. It's Dylan. I'm right here." "My name's Joel." "Joel?" "Joss, what are you talking about?" He took my face in his hands. "Who's Joel?" "The voice in my head, I guess." "Jesus.

He slouches,' DeeDee contributes. 'True--he needs to work on his posture,' Thelma says. 'You guys,' I say. 'I'm serious,' Thelma says. 'What if you get married? Don't you want to go to fancy dinners with him and be proud?' 'You guys. We are not getting married!' 'I love his eyes,' Jolene says. 'If your kids get his blue eyes and your dark hair--wouldn't that be fabulous?' 'The thing is,' Thelma says, 'and yes, I know, this is the tricky part--but I'm thinking Bliss has to actually talk to him. Am I right? Before they have their brood of brown-haired, blue-eyed children?' I swat her. "I'm not having Mitchell's children!' 'I'm sorry--what?' Thelma says. Jolene is shaking her head and pressing back laughter. Her expressing says, Shhh, you crazy girl! But I don't care. If they're going to embarrass me, then I'll embarrass them right back. 'I said'--I raise my voice--'I am not having Mitchell Truman's children!' Jolene turns beet red, and she and DeeDee dissolve into mad giggles. 'Um, Bliss?' Thelma says. Her gaze travels upward to someone behind me. The way she sucks on her lip makes me nervous. 'Okaaay, I think maybe I won't turn around,' I announce. A person of the male persuasion clears his throat. 'Definitely not turning around,' I say. My cheeks are burning. It's freaky and alarming how much heat is radiating from one little me. 'If you change your mind, we might be able to work something out,' the person of the male persuasion says. 'About the children?' DeeDee asks. 'Or the turning around?' 'DeeDee!' Jolene says. 'Both,' says the male-persuasion person. I shrink in my chair, but I raise my hand over my head and wave. 'Um, hi,' I say to the person behind me whom I'm still not looking at. 'I'm Bliss.' Warm fingers clasp my own. 'Pleased to meet you,' says the male-persuasion person. 'I'm Mitchell.' 'Hi, Mitchell.' I try to pull my hand from his grasp, but he won't let go. 'Um, bye now!' I tug harder. No luck. Thelma, DeeDee, and Jolene are close to peeing their pants. Fine. I twist around and give Mitchell the quickest of glances. His expressions is amused, and I grow even hotter. He squeezes my hand, then lets go. 'Just keep me in the loop if you do decide to bear my children. I'm happy to help out.' With that, he stride jauntily to the food line. Once he's gone, we lost it. Peals of laughter resound from our table, and the others in the cafeteria look at us funny. We laugh harder. 'Did you see!' Thelma gasps. 'Did you see how proud he was?' 'You improve his posture!' Jolene says. 'I'm so glad, since that was my deepest desire,' I say. 'Oh my God, I'm going to have to quit school and become a nun.' 'I can't believe you waved at him,' DeeDee says. 'Your hand was like a little periscope,' Jolene says. 'Or, no--like a white surrender flag.' 'It was a surrender flag. I was surrendering myself to abject humiliation.' 'Oh, please,' Thelma says, pulling me into a sideways hug. 'Think of it this way: Now you've officially talked to him.

Russ decided the best defense was a good offense. "I'm Russell Van Alstyne, Millers Kill chief of police." He held out his hand. She shook firm, like a guy. "Clare Fergusson," she said. "I'm the new priest at Saint Alban's. That's the Episcopal Church. At the corner of Elm and Church." There was a faint testiness in her voice. Russ relaxed a fraction. A woman priest. If that didn't beat all. "I know which it is. There are only four churches in town." He saw the fog creeping along the edges of his glasses again and snatched them off, fishing for a tissue in his pocket. "Can you tell me what happened, um..." What was he supposed to call her? "Mother?" "I go by Reverend, Chief. Ms. is fine, too." "Oh. Sorry. I never met a woman priest before." "We're just like the men priests, except we're willing to pull over and ask directions.

No, something far more mysterious has taken Felix. He has heard the unicorn." Like a performer, the cat gave a dramatic pause. "Um," said Lionheart. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, have you?" "No, sorry." "Mortals," growled the cat.

Is he crying? I lean forward for a better look and find him staring right at me. Oh,no.Oh no oh no oh NO. He stops. "Anna?" "Um.Hi." My face is on fire. I want to rewind this reel,shut it off, destroy it. His expression runs from confusion to anger. "Were you listening to that?" "I'm sorry-" "I can't believe you were eavesdropping!" "It was an accident.I was passing by,and...you were there. And I've heard so much about your father,and I was curious.I'm sorry." "Well," he says, "I hope what you saw met your grandest expectations." He stalks past me,but I grab his arm. "Wait! I don't even speak French, remember?" "Do you proise," he says slowly, "that you didn't understand a single word of our conversation?" I let go of him. "No.I heard you. I heard the whole thing.

Ahem",she says. "I figured you were the only kid in the building, so it had to be you." It's too easy--I can't resist. "Excuse me" I say somewhat abruptly. "It's you, right?" I make George look as confused as possible. "Do I know you?" Now she starts to doubt herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just, uh, am supposed to meet somebody." "What does he look like?" "I don't, um, know. It's, like, an online thing." I grunt. "Shouldnt you be in school?" "Shouldnt you be in school?" "I can't. There's this amazing girl I'm supposed to meet." She looks me hard. "You jerk.

So I was thinking . . .” “That’s what I smell.” “Geez.” I rolled my eyes. “You and Tink have more in common than you want to admit.” “I might have to kick you out of the bed for that.” I snorted. “Um, yeah, you can’t kick me out of my own bed. Sorry.” “Whatever,” he replied. “What were you thinking about?

That looks cozy," I said in a timid voice. He turned at the sound and-taking in my appearance-immediately spit hot chocolate all over. "What?" I demanded. With an obvious effort to compose himself, he forced his lips into a frown and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "Breathtaking." I raised an eyebrow,and his lips started to quiver, and then there was no stopping him. The laughter came in waves. "Well,that's not exactly the reaction I was going for," I said. "Isn't it?" he said, gasping for breath. I put my hand on my hip and tapped my foot as he inhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Finished?" I asked. He shook his head. "I love you." "I'm sorry?" "You heard me." He stood and walked toward me. I glanced down at my sweats,and then back at his face. "Did you not notice my getup?" He halved the distance between us. "Oh yeah. I noticed," he said,like it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. His lips curled up into a smile. "Okay,so that's not the reaction I was going for either," I said,taking a small step backward as he closed the gap between us. He grabbed my hands in his and his grin disappeared. "Becks.I think I know what you're worried about,but I meant what I said.I love you. And I would never push you." My entire body turned red. "But don't you mythological higher beings-" I tried to remember how Jules had put it-"need...the...um..." Jack looked confused,and then he chuckled. "Please don't even try to finish that sentence.

Retrato de Mulher Triste Vestiu-se para um baile que não há. Sentou-se com suas últimas jóias. E olha para o lado, imóvel. Está vendo os salões que se acabaram, embala-se em valsas que não dançou, levemente sorri para um homem. O homem que não existiu. Se alguém lhe disser que sonha, levantará com desdém o arco das sobrancelhas, Pois jamais se viveu com tanta plenitude. Mas para falar de sua vida tem de abaixar as quase infantis pestanas, e esperar que se apaguem duas infinitas lágrimas.

How did you find out?” he asked. I dropped the coat I’d been holding. “How do you think? She told me. She couldn’t wait to tell me.” He sighed and sat on the arm of my couch and stared into space. “That’s it? You have nothing else to say?” I asked. “I’m sorry. God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.” “Were you ever going to tell me?” “Yeah...of course.” His voice was so sweet and so gentle that it momentarily defused the anger that wanted to explode out of me. I stared at him, looking hard into those amber brown eyes. “She said...she said you didn’t drink, but you did, right? That’s what happened?” I sounded like I was Kendall’s age and suspected I wore the pleading expression Yasmine had given Jerome. Seth’s face stayed expressionless. “No, Thetis. I wasn’t drunk. I didn’t drink at all.” I sank down into the arm chair opposite him. “Then…then…what happened?” It took a while for him to get the story out. I could see the two warring halves within him: the one that wanted to be open and the one that hated to tell me things I wouldn’t like. “I was so upset after what happened with us. I was actually on the verge of calling that guy…what’s his name? Niphon. I couldn’t stand it—I wanted to fix things between us. But just before I did, I ran into Maddie. I was so…I don’t know. Just confused. Distraught. She asked me to get food, and before I knew it, I’d accepted.” He raked a hand through his hair, neutral expression turning confused and frustrated. “And being with her…she was just so nice. Sweet. Easy to talk to. And after leaving things off physically with you, I’d been kind of…um…” “Aroused? Horny? Lust-filled?” He grimaced. “Something like that. But, I don’t know. There was more to it than just that.” The tape in my mind rewound. “Did you say you were going to call Niphon?” “Yeah. We’d talked at poker…and then he called me once. Said if I ever wanted…he could make me a deal. I thought it was crazy at the time, but after I left you that night…I don’t know. It just made me wonder if maybe it was worth it to live the life I wanted and make it so you wouldn’t have to worry so much.” “Maddie coming along was a blessing then,” I muttered. Christ. Seth had seriously considered selling his soul. I really needed to deal with Niphon. He hadn’t listened to me when I’d told him to leave Seth alone. I wanted to rip the imp’s throat out, but my revenge would have to wait. I took a deep breath. “Well,” I told Seth. “That’s that. I can’t say I like it…but, well…it’s over.” He tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?” “This. This Maddie thing. You finally had a fling. We’ve always agreed you could, right? I mean, it’s not fair for me to be the only one who gets some. Now we can move on.” A long silence fell. Aubrey jumped up beside me and rubbed her head against my arm. I ran a hand over her soft fur while I waited for Seth’s response. “Georgina,” he said at last. “You know…I’ve told you…well. I don’t really have flings.” My hand froze on Aubrey’s back. “What are you saying?” “I…don’t have flings.” “Are you saying you want to start something with her?” He looked miserable. “I don’t know.

LAUREN: You know, Cecil, I was never a Girl Scout myself, but I can say I am thrilled to support your endeavor to help bring your niece...I'm sorry. What was her name again? CECIL: I don't want to um - LAUREN: Janice. It was Janice. I love the way you are taking part in Janice's life. You must really care for her. CECIL: Yes. With all my heart. But -

He closes the door with a determined click, and I hear him call to a flight attendant, and I sink down onto the toilet seat, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands as I listen to him through the door. "I'm sorry to bother you but my wife," he says, and then pauses. With the last word he says, my heart begins to hammer. "The one who now got sick? She's started her... cycle? And I'm wondering if you keep any, or rather if you have... something? You see this all happened a bit fast and she packed in a hurry, and before that we were in Vegas. I have no idea why she came with me but I really really don't want to screw this up. And now she needs something. Can she, uh," he stutters, finally saying simply, "borrow quelque chose?" I cover my mouth as he continues to ramble, and I would given anything in this moment to see the expression of the flight attendant on the other side of this door. "I meant use," he continues. "Not to borrow because I don't think they work that way." I hear a woman's voice ask, "Do you know if she needs tampons or pads?" Oh God. Oh God. This can't be happening. "Um..." I hear him sigh and then say, "I have no idea but I'll give you a hundred dollars to end this conversation and give me both.

Which reminds me, did you get to Skype your girlfriend, Pilot? Sorry I was on the phone for so long.” Time slows. I blink. Um. What. What does he mean, girlfriend?

Não lutes com monstros, pois podes tornar-te um. Se fitares o abismo durante muito tempo, o abismo devolve-te o olhar.

The front door of the Flippant Witch gave a series of loud clicks and swung inward. Renard Lambert, his blue-and-purple finery resembling a plum in the twitching lanterns, practically hurled himself through the open doorway “Widdershins!” he called loudly, cape flowing behind him, “I—gaaack!” He ducked, barely in time to avoid the carafe that shattered loudly against the wall just behind his head. The tinkling of broken glass, a dangerous entry chime indeed, sounded around him. “Oh,” Genevieve said, her tone only vaguely contrite. “It's just your friend. Sorry, Renard.” “Sorry? Sorry?! What the hell were you—ah. Um, hello, ah, Widdershins." Widdershins, who had lurched to her feet as the door opened, was suddenly and forcibly reminded by Renard's stunned stare that Genevieve had disrobed her in order to get at the rapier wound. Blushing as furiously as a nun in a brothel, she ducked behind her blonde-haired friend and groped desperately for her shirt. “Didn't mean to take your head off, Renard,” Genevieve said, mainly to distract him. “But you rather startled us.” “Quite understandable,” the popinjay responded absently, his eyes flickering madly as he fought to locate some safe place to put them.

No, sorry. Song is my middle name, actually. My last name is Hayward. Neither of my parents are, um, Asian.” I want to die. I want to open the car door and roll out onto the highway and be obliterated by oncoming traffic.

Oh, good, it worked,” Archer said, his ghostly face relieved. Unlike Elodie, his voice came in loud and clear, and so familiar that my heart broke all over again. I stood frozen, my back against the door. Even though he was faint, I could see him smirk. “Um…Mercer? Haven’t seen you in nearly a month. I was expecting something like, ‘Oh, Cross, love of my heart, fire of my loins, how I’ve longed-“ “You’re dead,” I blurted out, pressing a hand against my stomach. “You’re a ghost, and you think-“ All the humor disappeared from his face, and he held up both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not dead. Promise.” My heart was still hammering. “Then what the heck are you?” Archer almost looked sheepish as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out some kind of amulet on a thin silver chain. “It’s a speaking stone. Lets you appear to people kind of like a hologram. You know. ‘Help me, Sophie-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.’” “Did you steal it from the cellar at Hecate, too?” Archer had collected all sorts of magical knickknacks back when we had cellar duty at Hex Hall. “No,” he said, offended. “I found it at a…store. For magical stuff. Okay, yes, I stole it from the cellar.” I rushed across the room and thrust my fist at his solar plexus. It went right through him, but it was still kind of satisfying. “You jerk!” I cried, striking at his head. “You scared me to death! Cal said The Eye probably had you, and I thought they’d found out about you and me working together, and killed you, you arrogant piece of-“ “I’m sorry!” he shouted, waving his translucent hands. “I-I thought the talking would give it away, and I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’m not dead! So would you please stop hitting me?” I paused. “You can feel it?” “No, but it’s still kind of unsettling to see your fist coming at my face.

Ivy leaked," Ketahn growled. "The broodling comes." "Leaked?" "Um... sorry for intruding," Ivy said, flicking a glance between Diego and Will, "but um, my water broke." "It did not break, it spilled," Ketahn said. "Like a flood.

The light on the bedside table next to Sarah brightens. “I’m awake now. I’m going to read for a bit, if it doesn’t bother you.” “Wuthering Heights?” I yawn. “Yes. Sleep well, Henry.” And something about the way she says my name this time—the sweetness of her voice—makes me smile. Until . . . “Hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmmmm, hmm, hmm . . .” And I’m once again staring at the ceiling. “What is that sound?” “What? Oh, that’s me—sorry—I hum when I read.” The bed shakes as she shrugs. “Habit.” “Well for Christ’s sake, don’t.” I’m being an arse. When she doesn’t reply for a few seconds, I start to worry I’ve upset her. It’s not Sarah’s fault I’m tired—and horny. So horny. She doesn’t deserve to have her head ripped off. But before I can apologize, she says, “And here I thought you were the type who’d enjoy a good hummer.” And for a moment I’m stunned. And then I laugh, turning on my side, facing her. “Was that a joke, Sarah Titty-teet-butt-um?” “It was supposed to be, yes.” “And it was a dirty joke. I’m impressed. I’ll have to completely reevaluate my impression of you.” She covers her lovely mouth with her hands. “They slip out from time to time

I sat down on my bed, trying to catch my breath, as Jenna opened the door. The Vandy stood there, glaring at us, and my heart plummeted. They knew. They’d sensed magic happening in here, and now they’d sent the Vandy to come collect us. I sat there, trying not to pant in terror, while Jenna openly trembled. “You were told to report to the greenhouse,” the Vandy said, her eyes going back and forth between us. “Now, get your skinny butts down there.” You know when you have the most inappropriate reaction to something ever? I was so happy that we weren’t being hauled off to be murdered that I burst out laughing. I mean, big, loud, honking laughter. Jenna shot me a panicked look as the Vandy’s scowl got even darker. “What’s so funny, Miss Mercer?” I stood up on wobbly legs and did my best to stop cracking up. “Sorry, it’s just, um…” “You said ‘butts,’” Jenna blurted out. “And Sophie’s got a really immature sense of humor.” “Right,” I said, seizing on that. “Butts. Ha ha!” I think if the Vandy could have murdered us right then and there, she probably would have. Instead she just thrust one finger toward the staircase and said, “Move it.” We scrambled from the room.

Liam sounds so long-suffering and tired that Alex thinks about all those times back in high school, the way Liam used to look at him, the silence between them since, and feels obligated to add, “And, um. I’m sorry?” “Jesus Christ,” Liam groans, and hangs up.

Aurora!” Dad came running out. “Over here.” “We’re going to head home.” Dad leaned against a post at the bottom of the steps. “Hey, guys. What’re you talking about?” I smiled. “Just…girl stuff.” “Tampons,” Blake blurted. My jaw dropped. Dad’s eyes went wide. “Well, that’s…very…uh…” He backed a few steps. Glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll just…um…Gemma!” And he was sprinting toward the building. “Blake!” we all snapped. “Sorry, I panicked.” “Aurora,” Ayden said. “You’d better—before your mom—” “Yep.” I raced down the steps. “Dad, he was kidding!

He’s brought a sleeping bag, one of those big green bulky L.L. Bean ones. I look at it questioningly. Following my gaze, he turns red. “I told my parents I was going to help you study, then we might watch a movie, and if it got late enough, I’d crash on your living room floor.” “And they said?” “Mom said, ‘Have a nice time, dear.’ Dad just looked at me.” “Embarrassing much?” “Worth it.” He walks slowly over, his eyes locked on mine, then puts his hands around my waist. “Um. So . . . are we going to study?” My tone’s deliberately casual. Jase slides his thumbs behind my ears, rubbing the hollow at their base. He’s only inches from my face, still looking into my eyes. “You bet. I’m studying you.” He scans over me, slowly, then returns to my eyes. “You have little flecks of gold in the middle of the blue.” He bends forward and touches his lips to one eyelid, then the other, then moves back. “And your eyelashes aren’t blond at all, they’re brown. And . . .” He steps back a little, smiling slowly at me. “You’re already blushing—here”—his lips touch the pulse at the hollow of my throat—“and probably here . . .” The thumb that brushes against my breast feels warm even through my T-shirt. In the movies, clothes just melt away when the couple is ready to make love. They’re all golden and backlit with the soundtrack soaring. In real life, it just isn’t like that. Jase has to take off his shirt and fumbles with his belt buckle and I hop around the room pulling off my socks, wondering just how unsexy that is. People in movies don’t even have socks. When Jase pulls off his jeans, change he has in his pocket slips out and clatters and rolls across the floor. “Sorry!” he says, and we both freeze, even though no one’s home to hear the sound. In movies, no one ever gets self-conscious at this point, thinking they should have brushed their teeth. In movies, it’s all beautifully choreographed, set to an increasingly dramatic soundtrack. In movies, when the boy pulls the girl to him when they are both finally undressed, they never bump their teeth together and get embarrassed and have to laugh and try again. But here’s the truth: In movies, it’s never half so lovely as it is here and now with Jase.

Here, Kells. I brought you something,” he said unassumingly and held out three mangos. “Thanks. Um, dare I ask where you got them?” “Monkeys.” I stopped in mid-brush. “Monkeys? What do you mean monkeys?” “Well, monkeys don’t like tigers because tigers eat monkeys. So, when a tiger comes around, they jump up in the trees and pummel the tiger with fruit or feces. Lucky for me today they threw fruit.” I gulped. “Have you ever…eaten a monkey?” Ren grinned at me. “Well, a tiger does have to eat.” I dug a rubber band out of the backpack so I could braid my hair. “Ugh, that’s disgusting.” He laughed. “I didn’t really eat a monkey, Kells. I’m just teasing you. Monkeys are repellant. They taste like meaty tennis balls and they smell like feet.” He paused. “Now a nice juicy deer, that is delectable.” He smacked his lips together in an exaggerated way. “I don’t think I really need to hear about your hunting.” “Really? I quite enjoy hunting.” Ren froze into place. Then, almost imperceptibly, he lowered his body slowly to a crouch and balanced on the balls of his feet. He placed a hand in the grass in front of him and began to creep closer to me. He was tracking me, hunting me. His eyes locked on mine and pinned me to the spot where I was standing. He was preparing to spring. His lips were pulled back in a wide grin, which showed his brilliant white teeth. He looked…feral. He spoke in a silky, mesmerizing voice. “When you’re stalking your prey, you must freeze in place and hide, remaining that way for a long time. If you fail, your prey eludes you.” He closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. Even though I’d been watching him closely, I was startled at how fast he could move. My pulse started thumping wildly at my throat, which was where his lips now hovered as if he were going for my jugular. He brushed my hair back and moved up to my ear, whispering, “And you will go…hungry.” His words were hushed. His warm breath tickled my ear and made goose bumps fan out over my body. I turned my head slightly to look at him. His eyes had changed. They were a brighter blue than normal and were studying my face. His hand was still in my hair, and his eyes drifted down to my mouth. I suddenly had the distinct impression that this was what it felt like to be a deer. Ren was making my nervous. I blinked and swallowed dryly. His eyes darted back up to mine again. He must have sensed my apprehension because his expression changed. He removed his hand from my hair and relaxed his posture. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Kelsey. It won’t happen again.” When he took a step back, I started breathing again. I said shakily, “Well, I don’t want to hear any more about hunting. It freaks me out. The least you could do is not tell me about it. Especially when I have to spend time with you outdoors, okay?” He laughed. “kells, we all have some animalistic tendencies. I loved hunting, even when I was young.” I shuddered. “Fine. Just keep your animalistic tendencies to yourself.” He leaned toward me again and pulled on a strand of my hair. “Now, Kells, there are some of my animalistic tendencies that you seem to like.” He started making a rumbling sound in his chest, and I realized that he was purring. “Stop that!” I sputtered. He laughed, walked over to the backpack, and picked up the fruit. “So, do you want any of this mango or not? I’ll wash it for you.” “Well, considering you carried it in your mouth all that way just for me. And taking into account the source of said fruit. Not really.” His shoulders fell, and I hurried to add, “But I guess I could eat some of the inside.” He looked up at me and smiled. “It’s not freeze-dried.” “Okay. I’ll try some.

Hey, hi, um, we know you can’t do that. Call the police, I mean. No cell service out here, right? My phone hasn’t worked since somewhere way out on the Daniel Webster Highway. I’m sorry but I had to cut your landline. I’m, um, I’m Sabrina, by the way.” The awkwardness of her introduction is as chilling as the cutting of the landline admission.

I highly doubt that.” “Um, I’m sorry, but am I the only one here who didn’t know you speak Arabic?” Kenji is staring at me, wide-eyed. Haider laughs, eyes bright as he analyzes my face. “Your new friends know so little about you.” And then, to Kenji, “Your Regent Warner speaks seven languages.” “You speak seven languages?” Juliette says, touching my arm.

She's probably just tired of seeing you miserable.Like we all are," I add. "I'm sure...I'm sure she's as crazy about you as ever." "Hmm." He watches me put away my own shoes and empty the contents of my pockets. "What about you?" he asks, after a minute. "What about me?" St. Clair examines his watch. "Sideburns. You'll be seeing him next month." He's reestablishing...what? The boundary line? That he's taken, and I'm spoken for? Except I'm not. Not really. But I can't bear to say this now that he's mentioned Ellie. "Yeah,I can't wait to see him again. He's a funny guy, you'd like him.I'm gonna see his band play at Christmas. Toph's a great guy, you'd really like him. Oh. I already said that,didn't I? But you would. He's really...funny." Shut up,Anna. Shut.Up. St. Clair unbuckles and rebuckles and unbuckles his watchband. "I'm beat," I say. And it's the truth. As always, our conversation has exhausted me. I crawl into bed and wonder what he'll do.Lie on my floor? Go back to his room? But he places his watch on my desk and climbs onto my bed. He slides up next to me. He's on top of the covers, and I'm underneath. We're still fully dressed,minus our shoes, and the whole situation is beyond awkward. He hops up.I'm sure he's about to leave,and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed,but...he flips off my light.My room is pitch-black. He shuffles back toward my bed and smacks into it. "Oof," he says. "Hey,there's a bed there." "Thanks for the warning." "No problem." "It's freezing in here.Do you have a fan on or something?" "It's the wind.My window won't shut all the way.I have a towel stuffed under it, but it doesn't really help." He pats his way around the bed and slides back in. "Ow," he says. "Yes?" "My belt.Would it be weird..." I'm thankful he can't see my blush. "Of course not." And I listen to the slap of leather as he pulls it out of his belt loops.He lays it gently on my hardwood floor. "Um," he says. "Would it be weird-" "Yes." "Oh,piss off.I'm not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets. That breeze is horrible." He slides underneath,and now we're lying side by side. In my narrow bed. Funny,but I never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being,well,a sleepover. "All we need now are Sixteen Candles and a game of Truth or Dare." He coughs. "Wh-what?" "The movie,pervert.I was just thinking it's been a while since I've had a sleepover." A pause. "Oh." "..." "..." "St. Clair?" "Yeah?" "Your elbow is murdering my back." "Bollocks.Sorry." He shifts,and then shifts again,and then again,until we're comfortable.One of his legs rests against mine.Despite the two layers of pants between us,I feel naked and vulnerable. He shifts again and now my entire leg, from calf to thigh, rests against his. I smell his hair. Mmm. NO! I swallow,and it's so loud.He coughs again. I'm trying not to squirm. After what feels like hours but is surely only minutes,his breath slows and his body relaxes.I finally begin to relax, too. I want to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin-one of his arms, now against mine-and the solidness os his body.No matter what happens,I'll remember this for the rest of my life. I study his profile.His lips,his nose, his eyelashes.He's so beautiful.

How did you two find us?" I had to admit, seeing my two frenemies actually lifted my sagging spirits. "Um, so like, back when Professor Ravan told us to keep an eye on you... I mean, I'm not saying we put a tracker under one of your shoes," began Aakash. "But we put a magic tracker under one of your shoes," concluded Kumi. At my glare, she shrugged. "Sorry not sorry?

Tell me of your family,” Prince Merrick continued. “Um…yes, sir. It is just my mother and my sisters Emily and Elizabeth. As you know, we lost my father.” “I am sorry for your loss,” the prince said, not for the first time. “And you take care of them?” he prompted before pulling the carrot from a stunned Cassius and feeding it to the horse. “Yes, I am all they have, but I want to care for them. They’re my family. I love them. My sisters…especially Emily, she is my heart.” Their eyes caught again, and Cassius could have sworn he saw a grin in the prince’s stare. “We have that in common too, then. My family is everything to me, and I love my sister more than anything.” “I can see that, Your Highness, in the way you spoke with her today

Anyway, Edie, this is really exciting for you.” He stopped. “I’m sorry—I should’ve asked—do you still want to be called Edie?” Edie frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” “Well—” He paused. “I didn’t know how far into the process you were, and—” “What process?” “Um, the transition process?” He should’ve stopped when he saw Edie’s befuddlement, but he didn’t. “JB said you were transitioning?” “Yeah, to Hong Kong,” said Edie, still frowning. “I’m going to be a freelance vegan consultant for medium-size hospitality businesses. Wait a minute—you thought I was transitioning genders?” “Oh god,” he said, and two thoughts, separate but equally resonant, filled his mind: I am going to kill JB. And: I can’t wait to tell Jude about this conversation. “Edie, I’m so, so sorry.

I highly doubt that.” “Um, I’m sorry, but am I the only one here who didn’t know you speak Arabic?” Kenji is staring at me, wide-eyed. Haider laughs, eyes bright as he analyzes my face. “Your new friends know so little about you.” And then, to Kenji, “Your Regent Warner speaks seven languages.” “You speak seven languages?” Juliette says, touching my arm. “Sometimes,” I say quietly.

Estou lendo um romance de Louise Erdrich. A certa altura, um bisavô encontra seu bisneto. O bisavô está completamente lelé (seus pensamentos têm a cor da água) e sorri com o mesmo beatífico sorriso de seu bisneto recém-nascido. O bisavô é feliz porque perdeu a memória que tinha. O bisneto é feliz porque não tem, ainda, nenhuma memória. Eis aqui, penso, a felicidade perfeita. Não a quero.

Do you get it now,Becks?" Jack wrapped a finger around a long strand of my hair, and we were quiet as it slipped through his grip. "You haven't moved on?" He chuckled. "I have a lifetime of memories made up of chestnut wars and poker games and midnight excursions and Christmas Dances...It's all you. It's only ever been you.I love you." The last part seemed to escape his lips unintentionally, and afterward he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands,as if he had a sudden headache. "I've gotta not say that out loud." The sight of how messed up he was made me want to wrap my arms around him and fold him into me and cushion him from everything that lay ahead. Instead,I reached for his hand. Brought it to my lips. Kissed it. He raised his head and winced. "You shouldn't do that," he said, even though he didn't pull his hand away. "Why?" "Because...it'll make everything worse...If you don't feel-" His voice cut off as I kissed his hand again, pausing with his fingers at my lips. He let out a shaky sigh and his hair flopped forward. Then he looked at my lips for a long moment. "What if...?" I bit my lower lip. "What?" "What if we could be like this again?" He leaned in closer with a smile, and as he did,he said, "Are you going to steal my soul?" "Um...it's not technically your soul that..." I couldn't finish my sentence. His lips brushed mine, and I felt the whoosh of transferring emotions,but it wasn't as strong as the last time. The space inside me was practically full again. The Shades were right. Six months was just long enough to recover. He kept his lips touching mine when he asked, "Is it okay?" Okay in that I wasn't going to suck him dry anymore. Not okay in that my own emotions were in hyperdrive. Only our lips touched.Thankfully there was space between us everywhere else. He took my silence to mean it was safe. We held our lips together, tentative and still. But he didn't let it stay that casual for long.He pressed his lips closer, parting his mouth against mine. I shivered,and he put his arms around me and pulled me closer so that our bodies were touching in so many places. He pulled back a little.His breath was on my lips. "What is it?" I asked. "I dreamed of you every night." He briefly touched his lips to mine again. "It felt so real.And when I'd wake up the next morning,it was like your disappearance was fresh. Like you'd left me all over again." I lowered my chin and tucked my head into his chest. "I'm sorry." He sighed and tightened his grip around me. "It never got easier.But the dreams themselves." I felt him shake his head. "It's like I had a physical connection to you. They were so real. Every night,you were in my room with me. It was so real." I tilted my head back so I could face him again, realizing for the first time how difficult it must've been for Jack. I kissed his chin, his cheek, and then his lips. "I'm sorry," I said again. He shook his head. "It's not your fault I dreamed of you, Becks.I just want to know if it was as real as it felt." "I don't know," I said. But I told him about the book I'd read on Orpheus and Eurydice, and my theory that it was her connection to Orpheus that saved her.

There were three-legged dogs running around, and legends like Tim Conway on set. However, all this caused one particular Glee star to amp up her bitch factor. She made a huge deal about the dogs and demanded hand sanitizer any time one came near her. While the rest of us were in hysterics over Tim Conway’s constant improvising, it was throwing her off. Instead of just rolling with it, she kept interrupting. “So, like, um . . . are we going to do the scene as it’s written now?” Come on—if Tim Conway wants to improvise, you let him improvise! He’d even brought his granddaughter to the set because she was such a Glee fan, and she ended up crying because she couldn’t understand why someone was being such a bitch to her grandpa. Finally, my costar gave up, locked herself in her trailer, and refused to come out. Trust

EVERYTHING SMELLED LIKE POISON. Two days after leaving Venice, Hazel still couldn’t get the noxious scent of eau de cow monster out of her nose. The seasickness didn’t help. The Argo II sailed down the Adriatic, a beautiful glittering expanse of blue; but Hazel couldn’t appreciate it, thanks to the constant rolling of the ship. Above deck, she tried to keep her eyes fixed on the horizon—the white cliffs that always seemed just a mile or so to the east. What country was that, Croatia? She wasn’t sure. She just wished she were on solid ground again. The thing that nauseated her most was the weasel. Last night, Hecate’s pet Gale had appeared in her cabin. Hazel woke from a nightmare, thinking, What is that smell? She found a furry rodent propped on her chest, staring at her with its beady black eyes. Nothing like waking up screaming, kicking off your covers, and dancing around your cabin while a weasel scampers between your feet, screeching and farting. Her friends rushed to her room to see if she was okay. The weasel was difficult to explain. Hazel could tell that Leo was trying hard not to make a joke. In the morning, once the excitement died down, Hazel decided to visit Coach Hedge, since he could talk to animals. She’d found his cabin door ajar and heard the coach inside, talking as if he were on the phone with someone—except they had no phones on board. Maybe he was sending a magical Iris-message? Hazel had heard that the Greeks used those a lot. “Sure, hon,” Hedge was saying. “Yeah, I know, baby. No, it’s great news, but—” His voice broke with emotion. Hazel suddenly felt horrible for eavesdropping. She would’ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coach’s door. Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red. “What?” he growled. “Um…sorry,” Hazel said. “Are you okay?” The coach snorted and opened his door wide. “Kinda question is that?” There was no one else in the room. “I—” Hazel tried to remember why she was there. “I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.” The coach’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. “Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?” “Well, sort of.” Gale peeked out from behind Hazel’s feet and started chattering. The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument. “What did she say?” Hazel asked. “A lot of rude things,” grumbled the satyr. “The gist of it: she’s here to see how it goes.” “How what goes?” Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. “How am I supposed to know? She’s a polecat! They never give a straight answer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got, uh, stuff…” He closed the door in her face. After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas; but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away. Hazel

She’d kiss the guy and be done with it, no matter who was watching. “Anyway,” he adds. “Have fun. I’ll—I’ll miss you.” My face goes hot. “I’ll miss you too,” I whisper. And then I feel it. Evan’s face inching toward mine. The scent of peppermint on his breath and the heat off of his skin getting closer and closer. My mind goes blank for a second. I can’t believe it. My first kiss is really going to happen…in front of my mom! Just as Evan’s lips are about to brush mine, I jerk my head sideways. All Evan’s mouth finds is my ear. Holy miniature marshmallows. Evan Riley tried to kiss me. And I turned away! He coughs and steps back. “Um, so have fun,” he says, his face flushing bright pink. “I—I’m sorry. It’s not…with everyone here…” Why did my stupid head have to flinch? So what if my mom is right there? She’s not even watching!

I had it in middle school, with this girl Raya,” Vera replied. “It was kind of fucked up.” My shoulders tensed. I pushed a fry around in the dregs of my ketchup. “Why do you think that?” I asked. “Um, it was really intense, I think. Too intense. And the whole thing kind of blew up. It actually really hurt. I still think about her sometimes.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “Yeah.” Vera nodded. “Thanks. It’s a lot to promise, you know? That you’re gonna be in the same friendship for your whole life.” “We do that romantically, though,” Candace said. “I mean, that’s the basic idea, if you believe in marriage and stuff.” “Yeah, but that feels different,” Vera argued. “You go into a romantic relationship knowing it can completely combust and leave you wrecked. You basically sign up for that. I feel like friends don’t talk about that happening.

Jaime," ela disse, puxando-lhe a orelha "querido, eu o conheço desde que era um bebê no colo de Joanna. Sorri como Gerion e luta como Tyg, e há um pouco de Kevan em você, caso contrário não usaria esse manto... Mas o filho de Tywin é Tyrion, não você. Certa vez, eu disse isso na cara de seu pai, e ele não falou comigo durante meio ano. Os homens são uns tremendos idiotas. Até aqueles que aparecem uma vez a cada mil anos.

ground in a fetal position. The frog man looked down at him with a frown. “Young man, I have no intention of eating you,” he said. “Is he always like this?” the frog man asked Alex. Alex responded with a squeal almost identical to the one her brother had made. “I know, I know. Don’t worry; I’m used to people screaming at me,” the frog man told them. “Get it out of your systems. The shock will only last a minute.” “We’re sorry!” Alex finally managed to say. “It’s just that, where we’re from there aren’t many … um … frog people? Sorry if that isn’t the politically correct term for what you are!” Conner let out another high-pitched noise. It wasn’t a scream this time, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. The frog man studied their faces and paid special attention to their clothes. “Where exactly are you from?” “Pretty far from here,” Alex said.

I was just about to get up when Dad rushed into the kitchen. He was in pajamas, which was totally bizarre. Dad never came down to breakfast until he was completely dressed. Of course, his pajamas even had a little pocket and handkerchief, so maybe he felt dressed. He had a sheet of paper in his hands and was staring at it, his eyes wide. “James,” Aislinn acknowledged. “You’re up kind of late this morning. Is Grace sleeping in, too?” Dad glanced up, and I could swear he blushed. :”Hmm? Oh. Yes. Well. In any case. Um…to the point at hand.” “Leave Dad alone,” I told Aislinn. “His Britishness is short-circuiting.” Instead of being grossed out, I was weirdly happy at the thought of my parents being all…whatever (okay, I was a little grossed out). In fact, their apparent reconciliation was maybe the one good thing to come out of this whole mess. Well, that and saving the world, obviously. Dad shook his head and held out the papers. “I didn’t come down here to discuss my personal…relations. I came here because this arrived from the Council this morning. I sat back in my chair. “The Council? Like, the Council Council? But they don’t even exist anymore. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s the Council For What Breakfast Cereals You Should-“ “Sophia,” Dad said, stopping me with a look. “Sorry. Freaked out.” He gave a little smile. “I know that, darling. And to be perfectly honest, perhaps you should be.” He handed the papers to me, and I saw it was some kind of official letter. It was addressed to Dad, but I saw my name in the first paragraph. I laid it on the table so no one would see my hands shake. “Did this come by owl?” I muttered. “Please tell me it came-“ “Sophie!” nearly everyone in the kitchen shouted. Even Archer was exasperated, “Come on, Mercer.” I took a deep breath and started to read. When I got about halfway down the page, I stopped, my eyes going wide, my heart racing. I looked back at Dad. “Are they serious?” “I believe that they are.” I read the words again. “Holy hell weasel.

How are you enjoying Thorne Abbey?" Cal took a long sip of orange juice before replying. "It's great." I don't think it was possible for Cal to sound less enthusiastic, but either Lara didn't pick up on it, or she didn't care, because she sounded awfully perky as she said, "Well, I'm sure the two of you are welcoming the chance to spend some time together." Cal and I both stared at her. I tried to will her to stop talking, but apparently that power wasn't in my repertoire. Lara flashed us a conspiratorial grin. "Nothing makes me happier than seeing an arrangement that's a real love match." All the awkwardness that had vanished between me and Cal yesterday seemed to swoop back into the room with an audible whoosh. I dared a quick look in his direction, but Cal, as usual, was doing his whole Stoic Man thing. His expression didn't even waver. But then I noticed his hand tightening around his glass. "Cal and I aren't...we don't...there's not any, um, love," I finally said. "We're friends." Lara frowned, confused. "Oh. I'm sorry." She turned to Cal, eyebrows raised. "I just assumed that was the reason you turned down the position with the Council." Cal shook his head,and I think he was about to say something, but I beat him to it. "What position with the Council?" "It was nothing," he said. Lara gave a delicate snort before saying to me, "After his term at Hecate ended, Mr. Callahan was offered a position as the Council's chief bodyguard. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you initially accept the assignment?" she asked Cal. It was the closest I'd ever seen Cal to angry. Of course, on him, that meant that his brow furrowed a little. "I did, but-" he started to say. "But then you heard Sophie was coming to Hecate, and you decided to stay," Lara finished, and her lips twisted in the triumphant smile I'd seen on Mrs. Casnoff's face dozens of times. I stood there, frozen in place, as she turned back to me and said, "Mr. Callahan gave up a chance to travel the world with the council so that he could be little more than a janitor on Graymalkin Island. For you.

She got up and went to her tiny kitchen. On the way she turned on her radio. "You want something to eat?" she called over her shoulder. "What do you have?" "Um..." She opened her refrigerator. "Milk, yogurt, and wilted lettuce." She checked her cupboard. "Cheerios. Instant grits. Sorry-- I figured that since this is technically the South, I should try grits. Ah-hah! Pop-Tarts." "Pop-Tarts! All right," he said enthusiastically. He came to join her as she loaded the toaster. "Life. It just doesn't get any better than this. You and Pop-Tarts.

When the music stopped, the curtains to their booth flew open. Jax, the devastatingly handsome Nordic wolf, leered down on the lovers, who smiled up at him in amusement. “I said pretend to be her mate. At any point, did you hear me say, ‘Come up to New York and fuck my sister in public…during one of my company events?’ Did I say that? I really don’t recall saying that.” Jax scrubbed his fingers over his tightly cropped hair. He moved to the balcony, overlooking the patrons who were shuffling into the lobby for the intermission. “Sorry.” Dimitri laughed. He knew that they should have been slightly less conspicuous but the draw of his mate had been too much to resist. “Sorry? Really? That’s all you’ve got?” He turned to Gillian, who scrambled up to her feet, adjusting her dress. “And you? What’s your excuse, little sister? Seriously, every shifter in the room could hear you.” “Um, well, yeah, sorry about that. But technically this is your fault. I mean, what did you expect? You asked Dimitri to come here…to pretend to be my mate.” Gillian reasoned that her comeback sounded solid, inexperienced in dealing with her Alpha brother.

Degan struck the wall with the back of his head, bounced off, and fell to his knees. Hadrian felt the pain in his knuckles and only then realized he had hit him. Gaunt glared up, his eyes watering, his hands cupping his face. “Crazy fool! Are you mad?” “What’s going on?” Arista called back down the line. “This idiot just punched me in the face! My nose is bleeding!” “Hadrian did?” the princess said, stunned. “It was… an accident,” Hadrian replied, knowing it sounded feeble, but not knowing how else to describe his actions. He had not meant to hit Gaunt; it had just happened. “You accidentally punched him?” Wyatt asked, suppressing a chuckle. “I’m not sure you have a full understanding of the whole bodyguard thing.” “Hadrian!” Royce called. “What?” he shouted back, irritated that even Royce was going to join in this embarrassing moment. “Come up here. I need you to look at something.” Degan was still on his knees in a pool of water. “Um—sorry ’bout that.” “Get away from me!” Hadrian moved up the line as Wyatt, Elden, and Myron pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass, each one looking at him curiously. “What did he do?” Arista whispered as he reached her. “Nothing, really.” Her eyebrows rose. “You punched him for no reason?” “Well, no, but—it’s complicated. I’m not even sure I understand it. It was sort of like a reflex, I guess.” “A… reflex?” she said. “I told him I was sorry.” “Anytime today would be nice,” Royce said. Arista stepped aside, looking at him suspiciously as he passed. “What was all that about?” Alric asked as he approached. “I, ah—I punched Gaunt in the face.” “Good for you,” Alric told him. “About time someone did,” Mauvin said. “I’m just sorry you beat me to it.

Desculpai-me mas vou continuar a falar de mim que sou meu desconhecido, e ao escrever me surpreendo um pouco pois descobri que tenho um destino. Quem já não se perguntou: sou um monstro ou isto é ser uma pessoa? Quero antes afiançar que essa moça não se conhece senão através de ir vivendo à toa. Se tivesse a tolice de se perguntar "quem sou eu?" cairia estatelada e em cheio no chão. É que "quem sou eu?" provoca necessidade. E como satisfazer a necessidade? Quem se indaga é incompleto. A pessoa de quem vou falar é tão tola que às vezes sorri para os outros na rua. Ninguém lhe responde ao sorriso porque nem ao menos a olham.

Security is a big and serious deal, but it’s also largely a solved problem. That’s why the average person is quite willing to do their banking online and why nobody is afraid of entering their credit card number on Amazon. At 37signals, we’ve devised a simple security checklist all employees must follow: 1. All computers must use hard drive encryption, like the built-in FileVault feature in Apple’s OS X operating system. This ensures that a lost laptop is merely an inconvenience and an insurance claim, not a company-wide emergency and a scramble to change passwords and worry about what documents might be leaked. 2. Disable automatic login, require a password when waking from sleep, and set the computer to automatically lock after ten inactive minutes. 3. Turn on encryption for all sites you visit, especially critical services like Gmail. These days all sites use something called HTTPS or SSL. Look for the little lock icon in front of the Internet address. (We forced all 37signals products onto SSL a few years back to help with this.) 4. Make sure all smartphones and tablets use lock codes and can be wiped remotely. On the iPhone, you can do this through the “Find iPhone” application. This rule is easily forgotten as we tend to think of these tools as something for the home, but inevitably you’ll check your work email or log into Basecamp using your tablet. A smartphone or tablet needs to be treated with as much respect as your laptop. 5. Use a unique, generated, long-form password for each site you visit, kept by password-managing software, such as 1Password.§ We’re sorry to say, “secretmonkey” is not going to fool anyone. And even if you manage to remember UM6vDjwidQE9C28Z, it’s no good if it’s used on every site and one of them is hacked. (It happens all the time!) 6. Turn on two-factor authentication when using Gmail, so you can’t log in without having access to your cell phone for a login code (this means that someone who gets hold of your login and password also needs to get hold of your phone to login). And keep in mind: if your email security fails, all other online services will fail too, since an intruder can use the “password reset” from any other site to have a new password sent to the email account they now have access to. Creating security protocols and algorithms is the computer equivalent of rocket science, but taking advantage of them isn’t. Take the time to learn the basics and they’ll cease being scary voodoo that you can’t trust. These days, security for your devices is just simple good sense, like putting on your seat belt.

I took a step back as the knob turned and the door swung open. There stood Dad, his eyes red and deeply circled behind his glasses. He looked really pale, like he’d been sick, and I could see his hand shaking on the doorknob. “Bianca.” He didn’t smell like whiskey. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Hi, Dad. I, um, left my keys inside last night, so…” He moved slowly forward, like he was afraid I might run away. Then he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me into his chest, and buried his face in my hair. We stood there together for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, I could tell the words came through sobs. “I’m so, so sorry.

Sisyphus cheated death,” Nico explained. “First he chained up Thanatos, the reaper of souls, so no one could die. Then when Thanatos got free and was about to kill him, Sisyphus told his wife to do incorrect funeral rites so he wouldn’t rest in peace. Sisy here—May I call you Sisy?” “No!” “Sisy tricked Persephone into letting him go back to the world to haunt his wife. And he didn’t come back.” The old man cackled. “I stayed alive another thirty years before they finally tracked me down!” Thalia was halfway up the hill now. She gritted her teeth, pushing the boulder with her back. Her expression said Hurry up! “So that was your punishment,” I said to Sisyphus. “Rolling a boulder up a hill forever. Was it worth it?” “A temporary setback!” Sisyphus cried. “I’ll bust out of here soon, and when I do, they’ll all be sorry!” “How would you get out of the Underworld?” Nico asked. “It’s locked down, you know.” Sisyphus grinned wickedly. “That’s what the other one asked.” My stomach tightened. “Someone else asked your advice?” “An angry young man,” Sisyphus recalled. “Not very polite. Held a sword to my throat. Didn’t offer to roll my boulder at all.” “What did you tell him?” Nico said. “Who was he?” Sisyphus massaged his shoulders. He glanced up at Thalia, who was almost to the top of the hill. Her face was bright red and drenched in sweat. “Oh . . . it’s hard to say,” Sisyphus said. “Never seen him before. He carried a long package all wrapped up in black cloth. Skis, maybe? A shovel? Maybe if you wait here, I could go look for him. . . .” “What did you tell him?” I demanded. “Can’t remember.” Nico drew his sword. The Stygian iron was so cold it steamed in the hot dry air of Punishment. “Try harder.” The old man winced. “What kind of person carries a sword like that?” “A son of Hades,” Nico said. “Now answer me!” The color drained from Sisyphus’s face. “I told him to talk to Melinoe! She always has a way out!” Nico lowered his sword. I could tell the name Melinoe bothered him. “Are you crazy?” he said. “That’s suicide!” The old man shrugged. “I’ve cheated death before. I could do it again.” “What did this demigod look like?” “Um . . . he had a nose,” Sisyphus said. “A mouth. And one eye and—” “One eye?” I interrupted. “Did he have an eye patch?” “Oh . . . maybe,” Sisyphus said. “He had hair on his head. And—” He gasped and looked over my shoulder. “There he is!” We fell for it. As soon as we turned, Sisyphus took off down the hill. “I’m free! I’m free! I’m—ACK!” Ten feet from the hill, he hit the end of his invisible leash and fell on his back. Nico and I grabbed his arms and hauled him up the hill. “Curse you!” He let loose with bad words in Ancient Greek, Latin, English, French, and several other languages I didn’t recognize. “I’ll never help you! Go to Hades!” “Already there,” Nico muttered. “Incoming!” Thalia shouted. I looked up and might have used a few cuss words myself. The boulder was bouncing straight toward us. Nico jumped one way. I jumped the other. Sisyphus yelled, “NOOOOOOO!” as the thing plowed into him. Somehow he braced himself and stopped it before it could run him over. I guess he’d had a lot of practice. “Take it again!” he wailed. “Please. I can’t hold it.” “Not again,” Thalia gasped. “You’re on your own.” He treated us to a lot more colorful language. It was clear he wasn’t going to help us any further, so we left him to his punishment.

Shepard clears his throat again. “I need to tell you something, a few somethings. Because now is the time to tell you. Before we get serious. But it’s going to make it seem like I think we’re more serious than we are. I just don’t want to miss my window for being honest with you.” “Shepard, you’re making me nervous.” He groans. “I’m sorry. Don’t be nervous.” My hands were on his shoulders. I drop them into my lap. “Don’t pull away,” he says. “Just tell me, Shepard! Are you engaged to more than one demon?” “No! But … you know I’ve been in a lot of unusual magickal situations…” “Right.” “And you know about my thirdborn…” “I know that a giant you call a friend is going to eat your thirdborn.” He closes one eye and bites his bottom lip. “I may also have promised someone my firstborn.” “Shepard, your firstborn…” He squeezes my waist. “It’s all right, I told you—I’m not having kids.” “Who gets your firstborn?” “An imp. Or three.” “Aren’t imps the same as demons?” “Never say that to an imp.” “How did this even happen?” “We were playing impdice. I thought they were joking about the wager.” “We are going to kill these imps.” “Penelope…” He bites his lip again. “There’s more.” “More? Your secondborn?” “No, I’ve got dibs on that one…” He’s grimacing. “But I did lose my last name.” Every time he talks, my jaw drops lower and my eyebrows climb higher. “How on earth did you lose your last name?” “Told it to the wrong fairy.” My hands are in the air. “How have you met so many fairies!” “I fell in with a crew of them…” “Shepard—hell’s spells, is your name even Shepard?” “Yes! I only lost my last name. And I only ‘magickally and profoundly’ lost it; I can still say it, I can still wear name tags. There’s just one more thing—one more big thing…” He closes both eyes for a second. “I have a, um, well … I don’t have a sexually transmitted disease. But I am a carrier. Only other merpeople can get it. So it’s probably not relevant. Unless you want to sleep with a merperson. And also me. Me first. Which I’m not suggesting…” Hell’s spells … Shepard. I climb off his lap.

What'a wrong, Villa? Man, you look like shit!" Ramirez said from the driver's seat. The laughter in his voice only added to her misery. Great, now they were going to turn her into the butt of their jokes. Not bothering to reply, she lifted her hand and extended the middle finger. She was too tired to tell him to fuck off. A loud smack drew her attention. "What the hell was that for?" Ramirez complained, rubbing a hand over the back of his head, a deep frown creasing his forhead. "She does not look like shit."Trent growled, turned toward her, and winked. "She looks like Sleeping Beauty." "Yeah, um, I don't remember Sleeping Beauty looking like she got run over by the prince in the story." Slap. Her lips quirked, and a smile broke free. She knew what trent was doing, and she appreciated him for it. Fatique beat at her muscles. However , she was so horny that if Trent let her hump his leg, she'd find the energy from somewhere. "What the hell, you know I'm the one driving. Cut it out. I'm sorry, Villa. You know I still think you're hot." Slap. Erica swallowed the laughter threatening to choke her. "Now what?" Ramirez protested. "I said she looks hot." "I know, that's why I hit you." Trent sounded annoyed. "Oh man, you're in deep shit, bro. Seriously, I know you like her and all, but are you blind? Poor Villa might be hot but she looks like she hasn't slept in a week." He grinned at her through the mirror.

Maybe if he hadn't paused to take an audible breath, we wouldn't have heard it. But as it was, the creak from the floor outside my half-open door came in loud and clear. Alex shot up like he'd been poked with a sharp stick. I crossed the room in a single breath and jerked open the door. Nonna, halwayf past my room and clearly heading for the stairs, looked like something out of a cartoon. Her shoulders were hunched, she had one foot lifted off the floor, and she was cringing. "Oh,Fiorella. I am sorry!" In an alernate universe, another Ella was frantically reassuring her shrieking grandmother that nothing had happened, she had not endangered her immortal soul, and it would be a very good thing, please, if Poppa's revolver went back into its dusty case. In this one,Nonna had a gun forefinger to her own temple. She popped her thumb and rolled her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped aside. "Um...Nonna, this is Alex Bainbridge. Alex, this is my grandmother..." He was already across the room, hand extended. "Buongiorno, Signora Marino. Piacere di conosceria." She responded with a delighted cackle and a torrent of Italian. I caught "welcome" and "sausage." Of course, I might have been wrong about both. Alex listened attentively, then gave her a crooked smile. "Scusi, signora. I don't speak Italian. Well, much,anyway. I just practiced a couple phrases for...um...practice." "Ah"-Nonna reached up to pinch Alex's cheek, not to hard-"it doesn't matter. You have me at buongiorno. Now, come,come.

Do you have a piece of paper I could write on?” I jump up too fast. “Sure. Just one? Do you—of course you need something to write with. Sorry. Here.” I grab him a paper from my deskdrawer and one of my myriad pencils, and he uses the first Children of Hypnos book as a flat surface to write on. When I’m sure he’s writing something for me to read right now, I say, “I thought you only needed to do that when other people were around?” He etches one careful line after the next. He frowns, shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s . . . tough to say things. Certain things.” His voice is hardly a whisper. I sit down beside him again, but his big hand blocks my view of the words. He stops writing, leaves the paper there, and stares. Then he hands it to me and looks the other direction. Can I kiss you? “Um,” is a delightfully complex word. “Um” means “I want to say something but don’t know what it is,” and also “You have caught me off guard,” and also “Am I dreaming right now? Someone please slap me.” I say “um,” then. Wallace’s entire head-neck region is already flushed with color, but the “um” darkens it a few shades, and goddammit, he was nervous about asking me and I made it worse. What good is “um” when I should say “YES PLEASE NOW”? Except there’s no way I’m going to say “YES PLEASE NOW” because I feel like my body is one big wired time bomb of organs and if Wallace so much as brushes my hand, I’m going to jump out of my own skin and run screaming from the house. I’ll like it too much. Out of control. No good. I say, “Can I borrow that pencil?” He hands me the pencil, again without looking. Yes, but not right now. I know it sounds weird. Sorry. I don’t think it’ll go well if I know it’s coming. I will definitely freak out and punch you in the face or scream bloody murder or something like that. Surprising me with it would probably work better. I am giving you permission to surprise me with a kiss. This is a formal invitation for surprise kisses. I don’t like writing the word “kiss.” It makes my skin crawl. Sorry. It’s weird. I’m weird. Sorry. I hope that doesn’t make you regret asking. I hand the paper and pencil back. He reads it over, then writes: No regret. I can do surprises. That’s it. That’s it? Shit. Now he’s going to try to surprise me with a kiss. At some point. Later today? Tomorrow? A week from now? What if he never does it and I spend the rest of the time we hang out wondering if he will? What have I done? This was a terrible idea. I’m going to vomit. “Be right back,” I say, and run to the bathroom to curl up on the floor. Just for like five minutes. Then I go back to my room and sit down beside Wallace. As I’m moving myself into position, his hand falls over mine, and I don’t actually jump out of my skin. My control shakes for a moment, but I turn in to it, and everything smooths out. I flip my hand over. He flexes his fingers so I can fit mine in the spaces between. And we sit there, shoulder to shoulder, with our hands resting on the bed between us. It’s not so bad

Uma menininha de cabelo ruivo corre até a mesa da entrada, rindo e quase se sufocando com um emaranhado de fios verdes. Um belo cachecol? Ela sorri, saltitante. — Olá — digo. — Posso-te perguntar uma coisa? — Ela ri e balança a cabeça. — Como farias para encontrar uma agulha num palheiro? A menina para, pensativa, puxando o fio verde em torno do pescoço. Na realidade, ela está a pensar sobre o problema. Pequenas engrenagens estão funcionando. Ela retorce os dedinhos juntos, refletindo. É muito fofa. Por fim, ela olha para mim e diz com seriedade. — Eu pediria à palha para encontrar a agulha. — Então, emite um guincho fantasmagórico baixo e sai pulando em um pé só. Um gongo antigo da dinastia Song ribomba na minha cabeça. Sim, claro. Ela é um génio!

returned to his seat. ‘Did it hurt?’ Percy whispered. Frank looked at his forearm, which was still steaming. ‘Yeah. A lot.’ He seemed mystified by the badges in his hand – the centurion’s mark and the Mural Crown – like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. ‘Here.’ Hazel’s eyes shone with pride. ‘Let me.’ She pinned the medals to Frank’s shirt. Percy smiled. He’d only known Frank for a day, but he felt proud of him, too. ‘You deserve it, man,’ he said. ‘What you did last night? Natural leadership.’ Frank scowled. ‘But centurion –’ ‘Centurion Zhang,’ called Octavian. ‘Did you hear the question?’ Frank blinked. ‘Um … sorry. What?’ Octavian turned to the senate and smirked, like, What did I tell you? ‘I was asking,’ Octavian said like he was talking to a three-year-old, ‘if you have a plan for the quest.

Quando o grande sacerdote olha para o rico e para o nobre, ele sorri com compaixão e imagina como é possível que essas pessoas não distingam os prazeres pelos sonhos vazios que são. Quando ele percebe belas mulheres, sua única reação é a piedade que sente pelos homens que habitam o mundo de desilusão e que são lançados às ondas do prazer carnal. A partir do momento que um homem não mais responde, da maneira que for, às razões que regulam o mundo material, este mundo parecer estar em total repouso. Aos olhos do grande sacerdote o mundo aparenta apenas repouso; tornou-se uma mera figura num pedaço de papel, um mapa de uma terra distante. Quando se adquire um estado de espírito cujas paixões malignas do mundo presente foram completamente extinguidas, o medo também é extinguido. Assim o sacerdote já não é capaz de conceber porque o inferno deveria existir.

You need some help, Rosie?” His footsteps quicken behind me, and before I can respond, I feel his calloused hands on my waist. I accidently slide back against his chest and inhale the scent that has always clung to his whole family—something like forests, damp leaves, and sunshine. I suppose when your father is a woodsman you’re bound to carry the scent of oak in your veins. One breath is all I get the chance for, though; he kicks the door open and sets me down on the front stoop, then takes a step back. I turn to face him, hoping to thank him for the help and in the same sentence admonish him for carrying me like a little girl. Instead, I smile. He’s still Silas—Silas who left a year ago, the boy just a little older than my sister. His eyes are still sparkling and expressive, hair still the brown-black color of pine bark, body broad-shouldered and a little too willowy for his features. He’s still there, but it’s as if someone new has been layered on top of him. Someone older and stronger who isn’t looking a me as if I’m Scarlett’s kid sister . . . someone who makes me feel dizzy and quivery. How did this happen? Calm down. It’s just Silas. Sort of. “You’re staring,” he says cautiously, looking worried. “Oh. Um, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. Silas shoves his hands into his pockets with a familiar sway. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.” “Yeah, no kidding. You’re heavier than I remember.” I frown, mortified. “Oh, no, wait. I didn’t mean it like that, just that you’ve gotten older. Wait, that doesn’t sound much better . . .” Silas runs a hand through his hair and curses under his breath. “No, I get it.” I let him off the hook, grinning. Something about seeing him nervous thaws some of my shyness.

Quando o grande sacerdote olha para o rico e para o nobre, ele sorri com compaixão e imagina como é possível que essas pessoas não distingam os prazeres pelos sonhos vazios que são. Quando ele percebe belas mulheres, sua única reação é a piedade que sente pelos homens que habitam o mundo de desilusão e que são lançados às ondas do prazer carnal. A partir do momento que um homem não mais responde, da maneira que for, às razões que regulam o mundo material, este mundo lhe parece estar em total repouso. Aos olhos do grande sacerdote o mundo aparenta apenas repouso; ela torna-se uma mera figura num pedaço de papel, um mapa de uma terra distante. Quando se adquire um estado de espírito cujas paixões malignas do mundo presente foram completamente extinguidas, o medo também é extinguido. Assim o sacerdote já não é capaz de conceber porque o inferno deveria existir.

Cais, às vezes, afundas em teu fosso de silêncio, em teu abismo de orgulhosa cólera, e mal consegues voltar, trazendo restos do que achaste pelas profunduras da tua existência. Meu amor, o que encontras em teu poço fechado? Algas, pântanos, rochas? O que vês, de olhos cegos, rancorosa e ferida? Não acharás, amor, no poço em que cais o que na altura guardo para ti: um ramo de jasmins todo orvalhado, um beijo mais profundo que esse abismo. Não me temas, não caias de novo em teu rancor. Sacode a minha palavra que te veio ferir e deixa que ela voe pela janela aberta. Ela voltará a ferir-me sem que tu a dirijas, porque foi carregada com um instante duro e esse instante será desarmado em meu peito. Radiosa me sorri se minha boca fere. Não sou um pastor doce como em contos de fadas, mas um lenhador que comparte contigo terras, vento e espinhos das montanhas. Dá-me amor, me sorri e me ajuda a ser bom. Não te firas em mim, seria inútil, não me firas a mim porque te feres

Tu vens. Sorris. Cumprimentas. Conversas. Pareces feliz. És simpático. Partilhas coisas comigo. Vais embora. Regressas. Afastas-te. Manténs-te distante. Aumentas a distância. Ages com culpa. Fazes-me sentir culpada. Pedes desculpa. Sorris. Voltas a parecer feliz. Voltas a ser simpático. Sentes culpa. Voltas a afastar-te. Voltas a manter-te distante. Eu aumento a distância. Eu sofro. Eu choro. Eu aguento. Eu converso contigo. Eu peço que voltes. Tu voltas. Manténs-te afastado. Eu peço que volte a ser tudo como era. Tu fazes-me a vontade. Tu voltas. Tu sorris. Cumprimentas. Conversas. Pareces normal. És simpático. Tu não partilhas nada. Eu tento esclarecer o que ficou por dizer . Eu perco a coragem. Eu tento manter-te perto. Tu ainda tentas manter-te um pouco longe. Eu abraço-te. Tu ages cauteloso. Tu recuas. Eu recuo. Tu pareces voltar. Eu tento ficar. Eu choro. Tu não sabes. Eu sei que entramos num ciclo vicioso. Eu tento conversar. Aguardo resposta. Tu pensas em afastar-te. Eu penso em afastar-me. A nossa amizade não costumava ser assim

That night, Jas wore the only dress she owned.It was made of soft,clingy fabric.The skirt was short, showing off her now tan and muscular legs.When she came down the steps barefoot,Chase's eyes widened in surprise. "Um...what happened to your jeans?" he asked. "Never mind." Linking her arm with his,she steered him away from the kitchen door."Is Danvers here?" "In the kitchen standing very close to Miss Hahn,tasting spaghetti sauce." "Okay.Here's the plan." she lowered her voice."Call him into the living room for something. I'll run up and get the album." Chase nodded his head with utmost seriousness"And I'll drop the salad." "Right." He was bent slightly to hear her and without warning, he suddenly angled his head and kissed her. When he pulled back, he was grinning like a little kid."Sorry.I couldn't help myself. It's all this intrigue." "Right it's the intrigue," Jas repeated, too surprised to say anything else. Her heart was beating like a drum, and when he went into the kitchen, she thumped up the steps, touching her lips. Thinking to herself "Did he really just kiss me?"...........

You haven’t said what happened with you and Kavinsky that night after I left.” “Oh. We broke up.” “You broke up,” he repeats, his face blank. That’s when I notice Kitty lurking in the doorway like a little spy. “What do you want, Kitty?” “Um…is there any red pepper hummus left?” she asks. “I don’t know--go check.” John is wide-eyed. “This is your little sister?” To Kitty he says, “The last time I saw you, you were still a little kid.” “Yeah, I grew up,” she says, not even a little bit nicely. I throw her a look. “Be polite to our guest.” Kitty turns on her heels and runs upstairs. “Sorry about my sister. She’s really close with Peter and she gets crazy ideas…” “Crazy ideas?” John repeats. I could slap myself. “Yeah, I mean, she thinks that something’s going on with us. But obviously there isn’t, and you don’t, like, like me like that, so, yeah, it’s crazy.” Like, why do I speak? Why did God give me a mouth if I’m just going to say dumb stuff with it? It’s so quiet I open my mouth to say more dumb stuff, but then he says, “Well…it’s not that crazy.” “Right! I mean, I didn’t mean crazy--” My mouth snaps shut, and I stare straight ahead.

It’s still strange not to see you in blue,” I say. “It’s time to let all that go, I think,” she answers. “Even if I could go back, I wouldn’t want to, at this point.” “You don’t miss the factions?” “I do, actually.” She glances at me. Enough time has passed between Will’s death and now that I no longer see him when I look at her, I just see Cara. I have known her far longer than I knew him. She has just a touch of his good-naturedness, enough to make me feel like I can tease her without offending her. “I thrived in Erudite. So many people devoted to discovery and innovation--it was lovely. But now that I know how large the world is…well. I suppose I have grown too large for my faction, as a consequence.” She frowns. “I’m sorry, was that arrogant?” “Who cares?” “Some people do. It’s nice to know you aren’t one of them.” I notice, because I can’t help it, that some of the people we pass on the way to the meeting give me nasty looks, or a wide berth. I have been hated and avoided before, as the son of Evelyn Johnson, factionless tyrant, but it bothers me more now. Now I know that I have done something to make myself worthy of that hatred; I have betrayed them all. Cara says, “Ignore them. They don’t know what it is to make a difficult decision.” “You wouldn’t have done it, I bet.” “That is only because I have been taught to be cautious when I don’t know all the information, and you have been taught that risks can produce great rewards.” She looks at me sideways. “Or, in this case, no rewards.” She pauses at the door to the labs Matthew and his supervisor use, and knocks. Matthew tugs it open and takes a bite out of the apple he’s holding. We follow him into the room where I found out I was not Divergent. Tris is there, standing beside Christina, who looks at me like I am something rotten that needs to be discarded. And in the corner by the door is Caleb, his face stained with bruises. I am about to ask what happened to him when I realize that Tris’s knuckles are also discolored, and that she very intentionally isn’t looking at him. Or at me. “I think that’s everyone,” Matthew says. “Okay…so…um. Tris, I suck at this.” “You do, actually,” she says with a grin. I feel a flare of jealousy. She clears her throat. “So, we know that these people are responsible for the attack on Abnegation, and that they can’t be trusted to safeguard our city any longer. We know that we want to do something about it, and that the previous attempt to do something was…” Her eyes drift to mine, and her stare carves me into a smaller man. “Ill-advised,” she finishes. “We can do better.

I wish I knew your body was this warm before. I would have cuddled up with you every night." She stiffened suddenly, as if realizing what she'd just said. "Um, that didn't quite come out the way I intended it. I just meant..." "Forget about it," he said softly. "I know what you meant. It's completely understandable that you'd want to cuddle up with me. I'm pretty irresistible." Danica laughed, relaxing against him again. "Yeah, right. You're just a big, strong guy with a soft, gooey center." His mouth twitched. "Exactly." "Then tell me something. If you're so soft and gooey, why is there something hard poking me in the butt?" It would have been Clayne's turn to stiffen, but he wasn't sure he could get any harder without exploding. But hell, it'd been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy. Check that. He'd never been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy--ever. "Um...sorry." He was so embarrassed he could barely get the word out. He would have backed away some, but Danica still had a firm grip on his arm and didn't seem inclined to let him go. "Forget about it." She tilted her head to look at him, her dark eyes hidden beneath her lashes. "It's completely understandable that cuddling up with me would do that to you. I'm pretty irresistible.

Hey,” Marlboro Man said. “Where are you?” Like I knew. I was somewhere between my house and his. “Oh…somewhere between my house and yours,” I said, copping to my directional cluelessness. He chuckled. “Okay, let me put it this way: are you more than halfway to my house? Or have you not gone that far?” He was already learning to speak my language. “Umm…,” I said, looking around and trying to remember what time I’d left my house. “I would say…I would say…I’m exactly halfway there.” “Okay,” he said, his smile evident through the phone. “When you get somewhere in the vicinity of the ranch, I want you to meet me at my brother’s house.” Gulp. Your brother’s house? You mean, we actually have to introduce other people into our relationship? You mean, there are other people in the world besides us? I’m sorry. I forgot. “Oh, okay!” I said, enthusiastically, checking my makeup in the rearview mirror. “Um…how do I get there?” I felt butterflies in my gut. “Okay, about a mile and a half before my turnoff, you’ll see a white gate on the north side of the highway,” he instructed. “You’ll need to turn and head down that road a half mile or so, and his house is right there.” “Okay…,” I said tentatively. “Make sense?” he asked. “Sure,” I replied, pausing. “But…um…which way is north?” I was only halfway kidding.

We’ll go out tomorrow morning, then. First thing,” she ventures, more to Silas than me. “Though how the hell are we supposed to hunt? The Fenris certainly can’t see my face, and he’ll recognize Rosie. We’ve got no bait, unless you think you’ll look pretty in a dress, Silas.” “Okay, one, I would look great in a dress,” Silas begins. He turns to lean against the bathroom door, seemingly forgetting that I’m still in a towel. When he sees me, he averts his eyes and flushes a little. “And two,” he continues in a forced voice, “you’ve been luring Fenris on your own for pages, Scarlett. The Apple Time Festival is tomorrow. Perfect place for a Fenris to hang out, even if you don’t take into account all the red people will be wearing. We’ll go there.” Scarlett nods curtly. No one moves for a few minutes as water continues to trickle off my back and onto the shower floor. Finally, Scarlett gives me another cold look, turns on her heel, and storms down the hall. “Sorry I got you in trouble,” Silas whispers guiltily, his voice the only sound other than the steady pattering of water hitting the tile floor. “I was worried about you when you took off, and then I realized it was probably your first solo . . .” I shake my head. “I had to tell her eventually.” “For what it’s worth,” he says, eyes still averted respectfully, “I thought you did great.” “Thanks, Silas.” He finally meets my eyes, keeping his gaze firmly on my face. I tug the towel a little tighter. “You’re welcome. And I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t . . . um, see anything. I promise.

Um, I think I left my handkerchief on the table,” Jane said. “I’ll just run down and fetch it. There’s no need to wait for me--you go on to bed.” Lisette stopped to stare at her in bewilderment. “Your handkerchief will be perfectly fine where it is. A footman will find it and give it to you in the morning.” “No, I dare not leave it or I’ll forget about it in the confusion of our departure.” She was already turning to descend the stairs. “And it’s my favorite.” Jane didn’t stop to see if Lisette believed that nonsense. She just hastened down, trying to figure out how to get Dom alone. Fortunately, just as she approached the dining room, she heard the duke say from inside, “Sorry to be a wet blanket, old chap, but I shall turn in, too. Lisette and I don’t usually rise as early as we did this morning.” “So I’ve noticed.” Then Dom added hastily, “Not that it matters, mind you. Everyone has his own habits.” “Yes, that’s true.” The duke’s puzzled tone showed he was unaware of what his wife had said yesterday about his “habits.” “Don’t forget that we must leave as early tomorrow as possible.” “Of course.” “I’m hoping Tristan will have arrived by then, but if not, we’ll press on without him.” “Certainly,” Max said, rather stiffly now. He probably wasn’t used to being ordered about by anyone, even his brother-in-law. “Well, good night, then.” Hearing footsteps approaching, Jane darted quickly into an alcove and waited with heart pounding as the duke emerged from the dining room. He strode, with a surprisingly quick step for a man who claimed to be tired, in the direction his wife had gone. Only after he’d disappeared up the stairs did Jane relax. This was her chance.

Yeah, about last night … it’s been brought to my attention that I may have been a little out of line with somethings I did and said so—” “Really? Such as …” I can’t believe he’s going to make me say it. He’s so frustrating. One minute he’s cleaning puke off the drunk girl, showing his kind side, and the next he’s trying to humiliate me. Granted, I do a pretty good job of setting myself up for it. “Such as drinking too much to begin with, then maybe giving the impression that I was … jealous of Claire, or Dr. Brown.” “You mean Dr. Skank?” Shit! “Yes—I mean—no, not Dr. Skank. I don’t remember calling her that, but if I did then I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” I may have meant it. “Don’t sweat it, Syd. I think you’re adorable when you get all jealous.” “I was not jealous!” I yell in a high-pitched voice. “Uh … your striptease was entitled ‘Where Lautner’s hands will never be again if he doesn’t keep them off Dr. Skank.’” Kill me now and never let another drop of alcohol pass my lips. “So how was golf?” Lautner laughs. “I take it we’re done talking about last night?” “It’s pointless because it’s your word against mine, unless Swarley goes all Bush Beans Duke on me.” “God, you’re something else. So what did you call about?” “Oh … just to …” “I’m just flipping ya shit. I know why you called.” He does? I’m not entirely sure I know why I called so how can he know? “You do?” “I left you in a hot mess this morning and you need to be serviced.” His voice drips of confidence or most likely arrogance. “What? No, that’s not … um …” “Sorry, babe. I didn’t realize just how tightly wound you would be by now. Damn, you can’t even form a coherent thought. Get naked, I’ll see you in ten.” “Lau—” He hung up on me!

O tempo desapareceu; é a Eternidade que reina, uma eternidade de delícias! Mas uma batida terrível, pesada, fez estremecer a porta e, como em um pesadelo infernal, senti ter levado uma agulhada na boca do estômago. E em seguida um Espectro entrou. Um funcionário que vem me torturar em nome da lei; uma concubina infame que vem chorar misérias e acrescentar as trivialidades da sua vida às dores da minha; ou ainda o faz-tudo enviado pelo diretor do jornal a exigir a entrega do manuscrito. O quarto paradisíaco, o ídolo, a soberana dos sonhos, a Sílfide, como dizia o grande René, toda essa magia desapareceu com a batida brutal do Espectro. Que horror! Agora lembro, lembro! Sim! Esse pardieiro, residência do tédio eterno, é bem o meu. Aí está a mobília vulgar, coberta de pó, lascada; a lareira sem chama e sem brasa, imunda de escarros: as melancólicas janelas em que a chuva cavou sulcos na poeira; os manuscritos, riscados ou incompletos; o calendário onde o lápis ressaltou as datas fatídicas! E esse perfume de outro mundo, no qual eu me embriagava com uma refinada sensibilidade, ai de mim! Foi substituído pelo cheiro fedorento de tabaco misturado a sabe-se lá que tipo de mofo. Respira-se já aqui o ranço da desolação. Nesse mundinho pequeno, mas farto de desgosto, só um objeto conhecido me sorri: a garrafinha de láudano; velha e espantosa amiga; como todas as amigas, aliás! Fértil em carícias e traições. Ah, sim! O Tempo está de volta, o Tempo reina agora soberano; e junto com o velho repugnante retornou o seu cortejo demoníaco de Lembranças, de Arrependimentos, de Espasmos, de Medos, de Angústias, de Pesadelos, de Cóleras, de Neuroses. Eu lhes asseguro que todos os segundos são agora forte e solenemente acentuados, e cada um deles, brotando do pêndulo, diz: – Sou a Vida, insuportável, implacável!

I’m sorry, Rosie,” Silas says when he sees the sadness in my eyes. I shake my head, trying to brush the look away, but Silas isn’t easily deterred. He hesitates, then leans on the counter beside me, moving slowly as if he needs verification that each move is acceptable, wanted. “Hey,” he says, resting two fingers on my arm. It starts as a friendly gesture. I press my lips together as he slides his palm up my arm and around his shoulders. Silas paused, and though I’m not certain, I think he realizes that the touch is far more friendly as well—a thought that makes me dizzy but practically forces me to move my own hand to the small of his back. I close my eyes and inhale, and I feel Silas’s breath on my forehead, hear his relaxed heartbeats. His lips are so close to me, I could easily tilt my head back and kiss him if I were braver. It’s hard to not sigh, like the exhausted breath is building up in my chest and I’m holding it back, though more than anything I want to release it, to truly hold myself against him— Scarlett’s shower cuts off. Silas snatches his arm away and I lean back up, head swirling from the quick change. “Um . . . right,” Silas says, looking startled. He looks at me. “Okay, back to studying Potentials, wolves, important stuff . . .” He shakes his head as if he’s casting away a mental fog. I bite my lip. I want to get out of here—I need to get out of here, or the thumping desire for Silas is going to consume me. There’s no way Scarlett won’t figure it out if I can’t escape and get my mind off him. It’s just for a little while—I can go get groceries or something. Silas will help her research. We can’t keep paying for Chinese food. I meet Silas’s eyes, dashes of sky color in the monotone apartment. “I’ll be back,” I say, then dart for the door. “Wait!” he whispers sharply. He lunges toward the couch and tosses me the belt with my knives on it. “Just in case.” I catch it with one hand and swing it around my waist. Silas gives me a sly smile—does he know the affect that smile has on me?

Há um morcego de papel da festa das bruxas pendurado num cordão acima de sua cabeça; ele levanta o braço e dá um piparote no morcego, que começa a girar. - Dia de outono bem agradável - continua ele. Fala um pouco do jeito como papai costumava falar, voz alta, selvagem mesmo, mas não se parece com papai; papai era um índio puro de Columbia - um chefe - e duro e brilhante como uma coronha de arma. Esse cara é ruivo, com longas costeletas vermelhas, e um emaranhado de cachos saindo por baixo do boné, está precisando de dar um corte no cabelo há muito tempo, e é tão robusto quanto papai era alto, queixo, ombros e peitos largos, um largo sorriso diabólico, muito branco e é duro de uma maneira diferente do que papai era, mais ou menos do jeito que uma bola de beisebol é dura sob o couro gasto. Uma cicatriz lhe atravessa o nariz e uma das maçãs do rosto, o luga em que alguém o acertou numa briga, e os pontos ainda estão no corte. Ele fica de pé ali, esperando, e, quando ninguém toma a iniciativa de lhe responder alguma coisa, começa a rir. Ninguém é capaz de dizer exatamente por que ele ri; não há nada de engraçado acontecendo. Mas não é da maneira como aquele Relações Públicas ri, é um riso livre e alto que sai da sua larga boca e se espalha em ondas cada vez maiores até ir de encontro às paredes por toda a ala. Não como aquele riso do gordo Relações Públicas . Este som é verdadeiro. Eu me dou conta de repente de que é a primeira gargalhada que ouço há anos. Ele fica de pé, olhando para nós, balançando-se para trás nas botas , e ri e ri. Cruza os dedos sobre a barriga sem tirar os polegares dos bolsos. Vejo como suas mãos são grandes e grossas. Todo mundo na ala, pacientes, pessoal e o resto, está pasmo e abobalhado diante dele e da sua risada. Não há qualquer movimento para faze-lo parar, nenhuma iniciativa para dizer alguma coisa. Ele então interrompe a risada, por algum tempo, e vem andando, entrando na enfermaria. Mesmo quando não está rindo, aquele ressoar do seu riso paira a sua volta, da mesma maneira com o som paira em torno de um grande sino que acabou de ser tocado - está em seus olhos, na maneira como sorri, na maneira como fala. [1] - Meu nome é McMurphy, companheiros, R. P. McMurphy, e sou um jogador idiota. - Ele pisca o olho e canta um pedacinho de uma canção : - .... " e sempre eu ponho ... meu dinheiro ... na mesa " - e ri de novo.

We can’t walk through the house like this--we’ll make a mess.” Ryder’s jeans are soaked through and caked with mud. I’m wearing shorts, but my bare legs are spattered all over. “We’re going to have to strip here,” I say, shaking my head. “Just leave it all in a pile. I’ll toss it in the wash after lunch.” He just stares at me, wide-eyed. “What? Now?” “Yeah, you go first,” I say, amused by the blush that’s creeping up his neck. “Geez, Ryder. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in your underpants before.” I have vague memories of Ryder running around Magnolia Landing’s lawn wearing nothing but superhero undies. And after all the years of shared beach houses and hotel suites, well…like I said, we were more like siblings when we were little. “If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll turn around,” I offer. “Nah, it’s fine.” He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid motion. And then I remember why this was a bad idea. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his tanned, sculpted chest, his narrow waist, and jutting hip bones. Oh, man. What was I thinking? I swallow hard as he unbuttons his jeans and slides down the zipper. Boxers or briefs? That’s all I’m thinking as he peels down the wet denim--slowly, as if he’s enjoying this little striptease. He steps out of them gracefully and tosses them into a heap beside his shirt before straightening to his full height, facing me. Oh. My. God. I exhale sharply. The answer is boxer briefs, heather-gray ones. And right now they’re clinging to him wetly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He looks like a god. A six-foot-four, football-playing god, and I am staring at him with my mouth hanging open like some kind of pathetic freak. Snap out of it. “Sorry,” I say, averting my gaze. My cheeks are burning now. I probably look like a clown. That’s what happens when a fair-skinned redhead like me blushes. “If you…um…want to shower. I mean, you know--” “I’ll just go put on something dry for now. We really need to eat and then get that stuff out of the barn.” I just nod, biting my lower lip. I can’t even look at him. This is crazy. “Your turn to strip,” he says, and my gaze shoots up to meet his. He’s smiling now, his dimples in full effect. “Ugh, just go and change.” I cover my eyes with one hand and flap the other toward the hall. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five,” he says. “Great.” I let my hand drop only when I hear his footsteps move away. Then yeah, I’ll admit it--I allow myself a nice long look at his backside as he walks away from me. And let me tell you, it was well worth the look.

«Sabe, meu amor, que te amo. E que te amarei até morrer. É por isso que todo o resto me parece tão pouco, um nada imenso de nenhum valor. Sabe que te choro e te venero, e sobretudo que te espero. E sabe que te vejo, com olhos de quem vê, e que te conheço, como só conhece um livro quem o lê. Sabe que à amargura dos dias subtraí a doçura de te ter. Sim, o cintilar da vida, ao meu redor, por te ter. Por saber-te nunca muito longe, embora raramente aqui. por saber que, nos teus olhos - laivos de mel e coisas mais profundas, lucidez e racionalidade - leio que também me lês. Deslizemos agora para o silêncio, perfeição. Não vejo já necessidade de prender a tua mão, pois que sinto que te prendi. Ao teu olhar, que se enreda no meu. que estranhas asas povoam as minhas entranhas, murmuram a meus ouvidos. que grande és, que tola sou. Sabe, meu amor, que tenho plena consciência das nossas dimensões. Basta-me ter-te assim, como te tenho, para seguir pela vida a sorrir. Em mim não se apagarão mais luzes, em mim, à noite, acendem-se as estrelas. Fosse eu firmamento, e tu o cimento com que se constrói o mundo. Sem nós, nada. Reservatório de tudo. Conheço-te, milagre maior, e tenho-te, não podia ter-te melhor. Porque caminhas a meu lado, não acorrentado a mim. Porque me beijas a testa e porque te louvo as mãos. Homem honesto. Amor maior. Porque me guias na escuridão das ingenuidades - resquícios da infância - e porque não me apontas caminhos, descreves-me paisagens. Sim e não, talvez e também. Veremos o que dali vem. E eu, a teu lado, que tola sou, pequena e feliz, que feliz é quem amou assim um grande amor. Ecos de palavras, distantes. Que importa se não somos amantes? Se nunca o seremos? Sei que te amo e, nalguma linguagem, sei que me amas também. Se é na matemática dos racionais, se na pureza dos amigos, se no secretismo dos poetas, isso não sei. Sei que te carrego em mim e que, se fechar os olhos, me sorris. Estás comigo a todo o instante. Não te guardo em caixas, fotografias ou objectos. Caberias lá tu em caixas, mundo, permanecerias lá tu imóvel, como os objectos, vida. Quanto muito, vejo-te às vezes num livro cá por casa. Mas sei-te, e sei-te quase de cor. Não quero saber-te, na totalidade ou de cor. Não o poderia, é inalcançável. Tão grande és tu, que não acabas. Em mim nunca acabarás. A felicidade que a tua volta me trouxe. E sabe que vou chorar, «a cada ausência tua eu vou chorar». Mas não lágrimas; é paixão, fogo, urgência. Coisa física, átomos de energia em colisão. Ainda assim, ter-te-ei aqui, para seguir pela vida a sorrir. A cada vez que afastar os lençóis, pedir-te-ei que te chegues para lá. E ainda que a tua boca nunca sobre a minha pouse, e ainda que nunca venhas a sorrir enquanto te beijo, sabe, meu amor, que te amo, e que te amarei até morrer. Com a certeza de quem quer viver, de quem quer seguir, a vida inteira, com a alma enredada na tua. Que o teu chá seja fervido da minha chaleira, e que os teus livros disputem com os meus o espaço da prateleira. Meu amor, sabe que te amarei a vida inteira.»

Did you just take something off?” I ask the darkness. “Sam,” she scolds. I roll onto my side to face her. “What was it?” I whisper. “Nothing,” she hisses back. But I can hear laughter in her voice and I love it. “You took your shorts off, didn’t you?” I say quietly. “Maybe.” “You did.” I wait a beat. Just long enough for silence to settle around the room. “Do you know what that means?” “It means you should shut up and go to sleep.” She giggles. God, that’s a pretty sound. She’s quiet for a second. “What does it mean?” she suddenly asks. “It means your naked thighs are pressed against my sheets.” I groan. I’m turning myself on. Or she’s turning me on. “Sam,” she warns. But she’s laughing, too. She’s so far away from me that I imagine she’s going to roll right off the bed. “You’re awfully far away.” “There’s a reason for that,” she whispers. “What is it?” I whisper back. “Because I have this awful feeling that you’re going to break my heart,” she says. No stutter, so she must have found something to tap on. But I kind of would prefer to think she didn’t. “I don’t plan to hurt you.” God, she might as well have stabbed me in the gut. “No one plans to hurt anyone else. It just happens. Even to good people. So I’m trying not to let myself like you.” “You like me?” “I like you a lot. Too much.” “You like me,” I sing-song in a playful voice. “Sam,” she says on a heavy breath. “What?” “Don’t hurt me, okay?” I can hear the quiver in her voice and tension radiates off of her even from across the bed. It’s like a wire pulled taut. I reach out a hand and feel for her stomach. When I find it, I lift the edge of her shirt and lay my palm on her hip. She squeals when I roll her over and pull her to me. “Sam!” she cries. I adjust her until her bottom is cradled by my thighs. The scent of her hair tickles my nose, so I brush it out of my face, pushing it down between us. It’s silky smooth and she smells so damn good. “Um, Sam…” I nuzzle my face into the nape of her neck and press a kiss to her shoulder. “What?” “You promised to stay on your side of the bed.” “I am on my side of the bed.” She chuckles. “Go to sleep.” She wiggles her bottom in my lap, and I have to pull back a little and adjust my junk. “Um…” “That’s just my dick. I told you he likes you. He’ll give up in a minute. Go to sleep.” My head is lying on my bicep and I feel her turn her head ever so slightly and press a kiss against the tender skin of my inner arm. Damn, that feels good. My hand creeps up a little. This is the first time I’ve touched her naked stomach, and my fingertips are a little greedy. Her hand covers mine and holds it flat against her belly. “Sorry,” I whisper. She doesn’t say anything. She just holds my hand there against her skin, wrapped in hers. After a couple of minutes, she goes soft in my arms. I realize in that moment that I am in serious trouble. Like the awful, terrible, no good, very bad kind. Because I think I’m in love with her. No. I don’t think it. I know it. What I don’t know is whether or not she’s capable of loving me back.

It’s my turn next, and I realize then that I never turned in the name of my escort--because I hadn’t planned on being here. I glance around wildly for Ryder, but he’s nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the sea of people in cocktail dresses and suits. Crap. I thought he realized that escorting me on court was part of the deal, once I’d agreed to go. I guess he’d figured it’d be easier on me, what with the whole Patrick thing, if I was alone onstage. But I don’t want to be alone. I want Ryder with me. By my side, supporting me. Always. I finally spot him in the crowd--it’s not too hard, since he’s a head taller than pretty much everyone else--and our eyes meet. My stomach drops to my feet--you know, that feeling you get on a roller coaster right after you crest that first hill and start plummeting toward the ground. Oh my God, this can’t be happening. I’ve fallen in love with Ryder Marsden, the boy I’m supposed to hate. And it has nothing to do with his confession, his declaration that he loves me. Sure, it might have forced me to examine my feelings faster than I would have on my own, but it was there all along, taking root, growing, blossoming. Heck, it’s a full-blown garden at this point. “Our senior maid is Miss Jemma Cafferty!” comes the principal’s voice. “Jemma is a varsity cheerleader, a member of the Wheelettes social sorority, the French Honor Club, the National Honor Society, and the Peer Mentors. She’s escorted tonight by…ahem, sorry. I’m afraid there’s no escort, so we’ll just--” “Ryder Marsden,” I call out as I make my way across the stage. “I’m escorted by Ryder Marsden.” The collective gasp that follows my announcement is like something out of the movies. I swear, it’s just like that scene in Gone with the Wind where Rhett offers one hundred and fifty dollars in gold to dance with Scarlett, and she walks through the scandalized bystanders to take her place beside Rhett for the Virginia reel. Only it’s the reverse. I’m standing here doing the scandalizing, and Ryder’s doing the walking. “Apparently, Jemma’s escort is Ryder Marsden,” the principal ad-libs into the microphone, looking a little frazzled. “Ryder is…um…the starting quarterback for the varsity football team, and, um…in the National Honor Society and…” She trails off helplessly. “A Peer Mentor,” he adds helpfully as he steps up beside me and takes my hand. The smile he flashes in my direction as Mrs. Crawford places the tiara on my head is dazzling--way more so than the tiara itself. My knees go a little weak, and I clutch him tightly as I wobble on my four-inch heels. But here’s the thing: If the crowd is whispering about me, I don’t hear it. I’m aware only of Ryder beside me, my hand resting in the crook of his arm as he leads me to our spot on the stage beside the junior maid and her escort, where we wait for Morgan to be crowned queen. Oh, there’ll be hell to pay tomorrow. I have no idea what we’re going to tell our parents. Right now I don’t even care. Just like Scarlett O’Hara, I’m going to enjoy myself tonight and worry about the rest later. After all, tomorrow is another…Well, you know how the saying goes.

Syn paid the bill and they headed to the door with lust so thick around them, Syn couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else could see it. Furi reached back for Syn’s hand and he gladly offered it. He looked over his shoulder and threw him a seductive wink when Syn crowded in close behind him. As soon as Syn made it out the door, he saw four members of his team walking up the sidewalk. Well fuck me. “Hey, Sarge.” Pendleton, his demolitions expert was the first to speak up. Syn threw down Furi’s hand and quickly put some distance between them. “Yeah, hey fellas.” They’d all stopped and were staring back and forth between him and Furi. Syn couldn’t even look Furious in his eye after what he’d just done. Detective Green cleared his throat and pointed at Furi. “Don’t I know you?” “Hardly,” Furi mumbled. “Um, this is ... uh, uh. He’s my ... uh.” Syn cursed under his breath. Obviously his team already knew who Furious was. They all had detailed lists of Illustra’s entertainers and Furious’ image was not easy to forget. “Sarge, who’s your friend?” Detective Ruxsburg asked, a sly smile playing on his handsome face. “He’s um.” “He’s leaving,” Furi’s deep voice cut in as he eased his way through and walked in the opposite direction of Syn’s truck. “Fuck,” Syn whispered as he watched Furi turn the corner. “You better go after him and be ready to do some serious groveling,” his IT Detective said in his calm, cool voice. Syn didn’t say anything. His guys walked around him and went into the bar, leaving him feeling ashamed. He thought about running after Furi but choose to get in his truck and cut him off at the corner. He sped around the block and pulled into an alley hoping to intercept his angry date. When Syn got out of the truck Furi was turning the corner coming toward him. Oh hell. Furi had his hands crammed into his pockets and if the scowl on his face didn’t indicate how angry Furious was, then his choice of words when he finally reached Syn sure as hell did. “Get the fuck away from me.” “Furious, I know you're upset.” Furi spun around and glared at him with midnight eyes. “Upset! Upset! Look at my face goddamnit! Does this just look upset to you?” Syn put his hands up in a calming gesture. “Alright, you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I reacted badly back there. I was just caught off guard.” Furi was in Syn’s face and people on the street had begun to stop and stare. “Can we please move this off the sidewalk?” Syn tried to usher Furi farther into the alley and away from the nosy fuckers on the street. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” “I’m not gonna touch you! Damn, calm down. I just want to explain,” Syn argued. It seemed every time he was around Furi he was apologizing for something. “I’m sorry, okay. I should have introduced you properly to my team.” “How would the–” “Please, Furious. Let me finish. I should’ve told them your name and introduced you as my friend at a minimum. I’m sorry. I told you I fuckin’ suck at this dating shit, and if you don’t tell me to go fuck myself and give me another–” “Go fuck yourself,” Furi interrupted. He tried to move around Syn but Syn grabbed him around the wrist and backed him against the side of his truck. “No! I will not go fuck myself. I would rather fuck you.” “Well you pretty much shot that chance all to hell,” Furi yelled right back at him. “Have I?” “What do you think?

them.” “Well, since we’re waiting on a fresh warlock, you have time then, right?” “I mean, yeah, I guess so, but—” “That’s alright, I won’t force you to go. I know you have a lot on your mind, but just consider it, okay?” I nodded. “Yes, sir.” We cleaned up the field some more. After a while, I asked, “Hey, where’s Lukester and Cindy? I don’t see them anywhere.” “If they are not here, then they must be at the hospital helping the wounded,” said Adrian. “Okay, I think I’ll head over there, then.” “Sure, Steve. Adrian and I will continue cleaning up here,” said the mayor. Adrian turned to look at the mayor. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. “Alright, see you guys later.” I turned and walked away. Adrian and the mayor waved at me, then they continued picking up weapons. As I walked away, I suddenly remembered that I wanted to ask the mayor something about the mining operation. So, I busted a U-turn and walked toward the mayor. Adrian and the mayor were both busily working and had their backs facing me. “I don’t want him spiraling into depression over the Bob and horse thing, so make sure you keep him busy,” I overheard the mayor say. “Yes, sir,” replied Adrian. “There was a time when he fell into depression and he just lay in bed for days. I don’t want the same thing happening again.” Adrian nodded. “I’ll have plenty for him to do in the coming days, and with the party coming up, I plan to have all sorts of activities to distract him.” “Yes, sir.” “Good, please help me clean up for another five minutes, then go join Steve.” “As you wish.” They were clearly talking about me, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. So, I quietly spun 180 degrees and made my way to the hospital. As I walked, I thought, Wow… the mayor is really concerned about my state of mind. I had no idea… I reached the hospital and found a bunch of patient-filled beds outside. The place was completely packed, so packed that they had to treat patients outdoors. Cindy caught my eye as she frantically ran about from patient to patient. “Cindy!” I yelled. She gasped and turned around. “Steve, shhh…” she whispered. “Some of the patients are sleeping. “Oh, sorry…” She walked over to me. “How are you? Feeling good? Any injuries?” “Hm… now that you mentioned it, I’m surprised that I don’t have any injuries.”  Cindy beamed a huge smile. “I had a splash potion of regeneration in my personal chest at home. I used it on you while you slept.” “You did? No wonder.” “That was my last one. I was saving it for a special situation, and I guess saving a friend from pain is a pretty good reason to use it.” “Aw… thank you so much, Cindy.” “You’re welcome, Steve. So, are you here to help today?” “Help?” “Yeah, help with the wounded?” “Uh, um, sure. Yeah, I can help, but actually, I wanted to speak with you about something.” “Oh? What’s up?” “Well…” I explained to Cindy about what happened. “Oh, no… so she wouldn’t change Paul right away?” asked the potioneer. I shook my head. “I begged her, but she absolutely refused.” “Aw…” “So, I was wondering if you could give it a try?” “You want me to ask her to change Paul into a warlock?” “Yeah, could you do that for me? As a favor?” “Well, of course I’d be willing to, but what about Paul? Is he okay with this plan?” Cindy asked. “I think Paul will be way easier to convince once Wanda is on board.” Cindy nodded. “You’re right. Okay, my shift here doesn’t end for another few hours. I’ll head over to Wanda’s afterward.” “Yass!

Isn’t this the weekend of Xander Eckhart’s party?” “Yes.” Jordan held her breath in a silent plea. Don’t ask if I’m bringing anyone. Don’t ask if I’m bringing anyone. “So are you bringing anyone?” Melinda asked. Foiled. Having realized there was a distinct possibility the subject would come up, Jordan had spent some time running through potential answers to this very question. She had decided that being casual was the best approach. “Oh, there’s this guy I met a few days ago, and I was thinking about asking him.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll just go by myself, who knows.” Melinda put down her forkful of gnocchi, zoning in on this like a heat-seeking missile to its target. “What guy you met a few days ago? And why is this the first we’re hearing of him?” “Because I just met him a few days ago.” Corinne rubbed her hands together, eager for the details. “So? Tell us. How’d you meet him?” “What does he do?” Melinda asked. “Nice, Melinda. You’re so shallow.” Corinne turned back to Jordan. “Is he hot?” Of course, Jordan had known there would be questions. The three of them had been friends since college and still saw each other regularly despite busy schedules, and this was what they did. Before Corinne had gotten married, they talked about her now-husband, Charles. The same was true of Melinda and her soon-to-be-fiancé, Pete. So Jordan knew that she, in turn, was expected to give up the goods in similar circumstances. But she also knew that she really didn’t want to lie to her friends. With that in mind, she’d come up with a backup plan in the event the conversation went this way. Having no choice, she resorted to the strategy she had used in sticky situations ever since she was five years old, when she’d set her Western Barbie’s hair on fire while trying to give her a suntan on the family-room lamp. Blame it on Kyle. I’d like to thank the Academy . . . “Sure, I’ll tell you all about this new guy. We met the other day and he’s . . . um . . .” She paused, then ran her hands through her hair and exhaled dramatically. “Sorry. Do you mind if we talk about this later? After seeing Kyle today with the bruise on his face, I feel guilty rattling on about Xander’s party. Like I’m not taking my brother’s incarceration seriously enough.” She bit her lip, feeling guilty about the lie. So sorry, girls. But this has to stay my secret for now. Her diversion worked like a charm. Perhaps one of the few benefits of having a convicted felon of a brother known as the Twitter Terrorist was that she would never lack for non sequiturs in extracting herself from unwanted conversation. Corinne reached out and squeezed her hand. “No one has stood by Kyle’s side more than you, Jordan. But we understand. We can talk about this some other time. And try not to worry—Kyle can handle himself. He’s a big boy.” “Oh, he definitely is that,” Melinda said with a gleam in her eye. Jordan smiled. “Thanks, Corinne.” She turned to Melinda, thoroughly skeeved out. “And, eww—Kyle?” Melinda shrugged matter-of-factly. “To you, he’s your brother. But to the rest of the female population, he has a certain appeal. I’ll leave it at that.” “He used to fart in our Mr. Turtle pool and call it a ‘Jacuzzi.’ How’s that for appeal?” “Ah . . . the lifestyles of the rich and famous,” Corinne said with a grin. “And on that note, my secret fantasies about Kyle Rhodes now thoroughly destroyed, I move that we put a temporary hold on any further discussions related to the less fair of the sexes,” Melinda said. “I second that,” Jordan said, and the three women clinked their glasses in agreement

joke around—nothing serious—as I work to get my leg back to where it was. Two weeks later, I’m in an ankle-to-hip leg brace and hobbling around on crutches. The brace can’t come off for another six weeks, so my parents lend me their townhouse in New York City and Lucien hires me an assistant to help me out around the house. Some guy named Trevor. He’s okay, but I don’t give him much to do. I want to regain my independence as fast as I can and get back out there for Planet X. Yuri, my editor, is griping that he needs me back and I’m more than happy to oblige. But I still need to recuperate, and I’m bored as hell cooped up in the townhouse. Some buddies of mine from PX stop by and we head out to a brunch place on Amsterdam Street my assistant sometimes orders from. Deacon, Logan, Polly, Jonesy and I take a table in Annabelle’s Bistro, and settle in for a good two hours, running our waitress ragged. She’s a cute little brunette doing her best to stay cheerful for us while we give her a hard time with endless coffee refills, loud laughter, swearing, and general obnoxiousness. Her nametag says Charlotte, and Deacon calls her “Sweet Charlotte” and ogles and teases her, sometimes inappropriately. She has pretty eyes, I muse, but otherwise pay her no mind. I have my leg up on a chair in the corner, leaning back, as if I haven’t a care in the world. And I don’t. I’m going to make a full recovery and pick up my life right where I left off. Finally, a manager with a severe hairdo and too much makeup, politely, yet pointedly, inquires if there’s anything else we need, and we take the hint. We gather our shit and Deacon picks up the tab. We file out, through the maze of tables, and I’m last, hobbling slowly on crutches. I’m halfway out when I realize I left my Yankees baseball cap on the table. I return to get it and find the waitress staring at the check with tears in her eyes. She snaps the black leather book shut when she sees me and hurriedly turns away. “Forget something?” she asks with false cheer and a shaky smile. “My hat,” I say. She’s short and I’m tall. I tower over her. “Did Deacon leave a shitty tip? He does that.” “Oh no, no, I mean…it’s fine,” she says, turning away to wipe her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I just…um, kind of a rough month. You know how it is.” She glances me up and down in my expensive jeans and designer shirt. “Or maybe you don’t.” The waitress realizes what she said, and another round of apologies bursts out of her as she begins stacking our dirty dishes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Really. I have this bad habit…blurting. I don’t know why I said that. Anyway, um…” I laugh, and fish into my back pocket for my wallet. “Don’t worry about it. And take this. For your trouble.” I offer her forty dollars and her eyes widen. Up close, her eyes are even prettier—large and luminous, but sad too. A blush turns her skin scarlet “Oh, no, I couldn’t. No, please. It’s fine, really.” She bustles even faster now, not looking at me. I shrug and drop the twenties on the table. “I hope your month improves.” She stops and stares at the money, at war with herself. “Okay. Thank you,” she says finally, her voice cracking. She takes the money and stuffs it into her apron. I feel sorta bad, poor girl. “Have a nice day, Charlotte,” I say, and start to hobble away. She calls after me, “I hope your leg gets better soon.” That was big of her, considering what ginormous bastards we’d been to her all morning. Or maybe she’s just doing her job. I wave a hand to her without looking back, and leave Annabelle’s. Time heals me. I go back to work. To Planet X. To the world and all its thrills and beauty. I don’t go back to my parents’ townhouse; hell I’m hardly in NYC anymore. I don’t go back to Annabelle’s and I never see—or think about—that cute waitress with the sad eyes ever again. “Fucking hell,” I whisper as the machine reads the last line of

Kneeling down next to an article of clothing, Kevin looked up to see Christine a few feet away, gathering up one of her extravagant lolita dresses. Looking at her like this, the girl really did look cute, like a fragile porcelain doll. As he continued to watch her, his eyes landed on the black choker around her neck. “Isn’t that the choker that I bought you for your birthday a while back?” Kevin asked. Christine paused in her work. Her hand went to her choker. “A-ah, um, yes, it is. I… well, this is my… my favorite choker, so I like to wear it a lot…” Christine’s cheeks flushed once more, but she at least didn’t seem to be blowing her top. “After you, Iris, and Lilian left, I was really lonely. I hadn’t realized how important all of you were to me until you were gone. Ever since that day, ever since you three went off to Greece, I’ve taken to wearing this, because it reminded me of all the good times we’ve shared together.” That was probably the most honest thing he’d ever heard Christine say since she’d confessed her feelings for him. He’d noticed it before, but Christine really was a tsundere. She rarely ever told anyone what she was really thinking, and she covered up her embarrassment with bluster and violence. Moments like this were rare for her. He could count the number of times where she’d been honest with her feelings on one hand and still have fingers left over. “I’m sorry we left you like that,” Kevin apologized. Christine shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize. I know that you didn’t have much of a choice. Had you not left, then…” Then he, Lilian, and Iris would have put everyone in danger. Back then, Lilian had been targeted by the Shénshèng Clan. One of its members, a three-tailed kitsune named Fan had attacked them during Lindsay’s soccer game. Iris had nearly been killed and Kevin had destroyed an entire school building just to defeat Fan. Christine had been there when it happened, so she understood why they had to leave. “Thank you for being so understanding,” he said. Christine quickly turned her back to him. “T-there’s no need to thank me. We’re friends. I-I was only doing what any good friend would do.” Tsundere until the end, Kevin thought with an amused chuckle. “Then, Christine, I’m very glad that you’re my friend.” Christine squeaked. As she sputtered incoherently, Kevin finally grabbed the article that he’d been kneeling over. Blinking when he realized that it felt different than everything else that he’d picked up thus far, he held the article up to study it. “What is this…?” He trailed off. The object in his hands… was Christine’s panties. “Uh…” Kevin could hear his brain sizzling. “W-what are you doing, idiot!? Don’t stare at those!” Christine leapt at him, and Kevin, too shocked by the object in his hands to do anything, let her tackle him to the ground. The panties were thrown from his hands as his back slammed into the floor. Spots appeared in his vision, but they were soon replaced by Christine’s face, which hovered not two inches from his own. Their noses were almost touching. “C-Christine?” He felt his eyes widen as Christine’s face inched a little closer to his. This was bad. This was a very bad situation. Christine was straddling him, and he could feel her thighs touching him, and her body was pressed against him, and… and… Oh, no… Perhaps it was the result of him still being horny because Christine had interrupted him and Lilian while they were having sex, but Kevin felt his arousal skyrocket. Christine felt it, too, because her eyes went even wider and she looked down. He also looked down. Then he looked back up. Their eyes met. Christine’s face was the brightest blue that he’d ever seen. “I can explain this,” Kevin said calmly. “KYA!” The sound of Christine’s scream was followed by a loud slap.

Sorry. Um. So that’s the ugly truth.” He raised his eyebrows. “What ugly truth?” “That I live with my parents.” I spread my arms in defeat. “You are now welcome to flee in terror.” He made a show of looking around the living area, then walking past me into the kitchen. “I don’t see them here,” he said. “Are they both in the bathroom?” I rolled my eyes. “No.” “Under your bed? Kind of a tight fit under there.” “No,” I said again, but this time with a laugh in my voice. “Then I don’t see the problem.” He shrugged. “You live near your parents. You’re parents-adjacent. I knew that already, remember? You’re close with your parents.” “Literally.

You’re a screamer, babe,” Colt said as gently as he could. “I—” I supposed I got loud, especially when I was close to coming. “Um…I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing something wrong. I won’t do that anymore.” “No!” Colt and Keelan shouted at the same time.

Considering my ‘hobby’ saved your sorry a—um, butt.” Tita Rosie had thrown me a look so I changed my wording. “You should really be a whole lot nicer to me. I could always use more groveling in my life.

Definitivamente, fazia uma eternidade que eu não me sentia assim com alguém. Não resisto à minha vontade de agarrá-lo e prendê-lo a mim, quero me embolar nele. — Você é meu — grunhi, enlaçando seu quadril com as pernas e levando o olhar para ele. Seus olhos redondinhos e escuros viram duas curvinhas quando sorri, e isso derrete meu coração. — Eu sou. — É meu — repito, segurando seu rosto em minhas mãos e distribuindo beijos por cada cantinho, e me contendo para não morder. Minha linguagem de amor é nada mais do que uma explosão de carinho, e eu posso passar horas inteiras grudado nele, dizendo o quanto ele é lindo e perfeito. Não sei amar de outra forma que não seja essa — Meu Ethan. Tenho a plena noção de que pareço e soo como um maluco obcecado, não que eu esteja muito distante disso, no entanto, ele é meu e de mais ninguém.

vimos que as nossas escolhas expandem ou retraem nossas habilidades. Em outras palavras, isso quer dizer que ao se deixar afetar pelas circunstâncias ou pessoas que o cercam você se retrai internamente, usa mais cautela nas suas ações, crê um pouco menos, mantém menos contato visual, sorri de maneira um pouco intimidada, gagueja.

Oh. Um, no. I’m sorry. I was thinking about the numbers.” “What numbers?” “Um. Nothing important.” She smiled. Smiling usually helped alleviate any distress caused by her tendency to drift into her thoughts.

She flipped open the suitcase. Inside, in addition to her normal clothing, there were weapons: guns, knives, a few pounds of explosives—as she’d warned—along with some more medieval items like nunchucks and a mace. In addition, there were several ammunition belts, plastic baggies full of bullets, two timers, and a device with a large red button that looked awfully familiar. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to it. “Um,” Catherine said, reddening slightly. “Those are my undies. Sorry, I should have packed them separately.” “I mean next to your undies,” I said, turning red myself. “The device with the big red button.

Nova Scotians, sweet pea.” I choke on nothing particular except the absurdity of what just came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?” Ren grins as he turns off the heat underneath the stew and covers it with a lid. “I need an endearment for you. I’m trying them out.” “Um. How about Frankie? That’ll do fine.” “Pff.” Ren closes the distance between us, standing inside my legs. Those warm, calloused hands slip around my neck and delve into my hair, massaging aching muscles. “You call me sweet things.” I groan as he hits a tender spot. It makes my eyes fall shut. “The Italian word for a root vegetable. And a thinly veiled reference to a brutal, pillaging Viking. Not exactly amorous.” “They don’t have to be amorous,” he says quietly. “They just have to be mine, for you…turtledove.” “Nope.” “Huckleberry.” “Hell, no.” “Lambkin.” I crack an eye open and give him a look. “You’re hopeless.” “We both knew that.” He presses a long kiss to my forehead again. “You’re in my kitchen,” he whispers, tipping my head up to meet his eyes. “Pinch me.” I grab a nice little bit of skin at his side. Just skin, because there sure as shit isn’t any fat on his torso. “Ow! Frankie, I was being figurative.” Oops. “Sorry. I’m a literal gal, Zenzero.” I grab his hips and pull him closer. “Let me kiss it better.

She seems dazed like she hasn't grasped it yet. Sam's staying with her…’ The volume of his voice faded in and out. ‘Those poor kids. Leah's just a year older than you, and Seth is only fourteen…’ He shook his head. He kept his arms tight around me as he started toward the door again. ‘Um, Dad?’ I figured I'd better warn him. ‘You'll never guess who's here.’ He looked at me blankly. His head swiveled around, and he spied the Mercedes across the street, the porch light reflecting off the glossy black paint. Before he could react, Olivia was in the doorway. ‘Hi, Mr. Anderson,’ she said in a subdued voice. ‘I'm sorry I came at such an inconvenient time.’ ‘Olivia?’ Peered at the slight figure in front of him as if he doubted what his eyes were telling him. ‘Olivia is that you?’ ‘It's me,’ she confirmed. ‘I was in the neighborhood.’ ‘Is Chiaz…?’ ‘No, I'm alone.’ Both Olivia and I knew he wasn't asking about Chiaz. His arm tightened around my shoulder. ‘She can stay here, can't she?’ I pleaded. ‘I already asked her.’ ‘Of course,’ Mr. Anderson said mechanically. ‘We'd love to have you, Olivia.’ ‘Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I know it's horrid timing.’ ‘No, it's fine. I'm going to be busy doing what I can for Harry's family; it will be nice for Karly to have some company.’ ‘There's dinner for you on the table, Dad,’ I told him. ‘Thanks, Bell.’ He gave me one more squeeze before he shuffled toward the kitchen. Olivia went back to the couch, and I followed her. This time, she was the one to pull me against her shoulder. ‘You look tired.’ ‘Yeah,’ I agreed and shrugged. ‘Near-death experiences do that to me… So, what does Chiaz think of you being here?

Um, I’m sorry. The contract I signed said I would be provided with a sugar momma. Do I need to look over it again? Because if not, I will need to hire a new lawyer and find out how it can be broken.” “Seems like you are out of luck. That contract is ironclad. The Crown only employs the best lawyers.

Then she was tugging off his boxers. She sucked in a breath. “Oh God, it’s so pretty.” He snorted out a laugh. Here he was close to bending her over the nearest surface and fucking her until they both reached oblivion and she went and called his dick pretty? “He is not pretty.” “Oh, sorry. Of course not. He’s um, long! Like a bratwurst. But thick! Like an eggplant.” Dear God. “Baby, you don’t want him as thick as an eggplant,” Remy murmured, looking like he was seconds from laughing. “Eggplants are really thick.” “I was trying to make up for the pretty mistake,” she whispered. “I can still hear you,” Loki whispered. “My dick is sexy. He’s hot. Masculine. Got it?” She nodded.

- É perigoso precisar de alguém dessa maneira. Tu estás a tentar salvá-lo e ele tem esperança que consigas. Vocês os dois são um desastre. Olhei para o teto e sorri. - Não interessa a razão, Kara. O que interessa é que é maravilhoso.

Sir Dalton,” I thought, through the party communication system, “Why so glum?” “I’m not in the mood for this now, brain,” replied Sir Dalton. Sir Dalton had interesting internal conversations between various parts of his anatomy.  His brain and gut seemed to be the main “voices.”  Fortunately, I had a tried and true method of conversing with Dalton.  I pitched my voice higher.  “Dalton, this is your gut.  I think we should talk about it.” “I think not,” growled Sir Dalton.  “We are not on speaking terms after what you just did!” Sir Dalton had always trusted his gut before.  Now, I was even more curious.  I pitched my voice lower and tried again. “Sir Dalton, it is I, your elbow.  Do you want to talk?” I asked. There was a long pause.  Just as I decided the Knight wasn’t actually that stupid, I received a gasping sob through the connection.  “Oh, elbow, I don’t know who to trust anymore!” “What happened?” I, as his elbow, continued. “Well, as you know, I ‘ve always trusted my gut before.  Yet, when we got into the dungeon it started asking me about the Drak-ish.  We talked for a moment, and I decided I should do a gut check about Jarra the Healer.” “That sounds reasonable,” I replied, running my mind back to the battle with the Drak-ish. “When I did, my gut told me to give up on Jarra the Healer.  She has her heart set on another,” said Dalton hotly.  “Isn’t that ridiculous?   Of course, I knew my gut was lying to me.  Look at me! I’m Sir Dalton!” “That is true,” I replied.  “You are Sir Dalton.” “Don’t sell yourself short, elbow.  You are part of the mighty carriage of Sir Dalton,” continued the very humble Knight. “Good point,” I continued.  “Have you talked to anyone about this?” “Wouldn’t you know?  You are my elbow, after all,” replied Sir Dalton questioningly. “Um, I, uh, don’t have ears,” I reached.  “Oh, so sorry, of course” replied Sir Dalton.  “Well, I talked to SueLeeta about it, and she agreed.  She also thinks I should find another woman.  Someone who likes being around me.  Someone that I have fun with.  Someone who’s interested in me, and the like.

Back in my room, I put Izzy down, pulled my dress over my head, and tossed it on the floor, lost in thought. "Marygene Brown," Mama scolded the second I closed the door. I screamed. Izzy was growling and running around Mama, barking. Alex bolted through the door, gun in hand, scanning the room for an intruder. "What is it?" I held my hand over my heart, a familiar response for me now, and scooped Izzy up. Mama was giving me a chastising glare, her arms folded across her chest. She didn't seem to like the idea of Alex sleeping in the house. She was such a hypocrite. That was when I recalled I was standing in nothing but my bra and panties. Alex devoured me with the intensity of his gape. I snatched the dress off the floor, using it to cover myself. "Um... I thought I saw a mouse. Sorry I alarmed you," I stammered. "Mouse, my derriere," Mama said. "That boy doesn't need to be in this house. You have a blind spot when it comes to him." She had never been fond of Alex. He was subpar in her eyes. He didn't own his own business, like Zach did, nor did he come from an aristocratic family. He was a common boy who grew into a common man, who earned a deputy's salary. Like Eddie. Alex had a lopsided grin. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were using that as an excuse to get me up here. A little jealous tonight, were we?" "You watch yourself, young man!" Mama scolded, her finger in his face. Not that he saw her. "Shh," I said to Mama. "What are you shushing me for? Any man would think the same," Alex said. "I thought I heard it," I held my hand to my ear, "the mouse, listen." He put his gun back into his holster. "Right. If you want me to stay," he waggled his eyebrows at me, "all you have to do is ask." "I mean it. You're about to get it, young man," Mama was waving her arms around like a lunatic, and I wasn't certain she could do no harm. She had slammed me to the floor the other night. "No. I swear it was a mouse." I shoved him out the door. "I'll be fine. Good night, Alex." "Good night, Marygene." He grinned again as I closed the door. "If you need me, just holler." He put extra emphasis on the word need.

Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." I study him for a moment - lively eyes, faint color in his cheeks, and... warmth. He's definitely alive. I guess I stare too long, because he clears his throat and says, "Can I help you find your classes?" "Oh... um... the lady was getting me a map." A smile stretches across his face again, brightening his expression. "I'm your map.

I’m sorry, I was rude?” “Um, yeah, super judgey.” “While you were plotting my death.” I waved a hand. “Only hypothetically.

I’ve got strong feelings for her, yeah,” I confess, throwing all secrecy out the window. “Not sure if I can call it love, but yeah, I care about her.” Letting out a sigh, I then add, “No one knows except my pops and Sarah. To everyone else, we are just vegan besties.” I can’t help but crack a smile remembering when she gave us that nickname. “But why are you asking me all this?” “I'm moving to Singapore in a few hours,” he announces. And his tone is enough to make me freeze in my seat. “So I need to make sure she’ll be alright once I’m gone.” I put down the cutlery and take a sip of my smoothie, trying to disguise my smile. Is he really leaving? Damn! “Um, sorry, but why are you leaving?” “That’s beside the point,” he snaps. “She’ll need friends around her. Friends that

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember your name earlier—that was, um, messed up that it took me eating you learn that.

Maxine, what’s your philosophy on life?’ ‘Um . . . sorry?’ ‘Well, I’ve always found there are people who want to know things and those who don’t. One is not necessarily better than the other, but which one are you?

Mm-hm,” Dawn said. “Um, I’m sorry.” “Yeah. Right.” I’m sorry, too, Mary Anne was what I was sort of hoping to hear.

Sorri um alívio já então fisgado por anzóis de pavor vazio; pelo meu sorriso o horror fincou suas presas a mim me enforcando pelo avesso?

Where and how did you propose?" She bit her lip. "Um..." Callen ran a hand over Grace's hair. "In bed as nature intended." He shot an apologetic glance his mother's direction. "Sorry." She shook her head. "That's okay. I figured out you've slept together." For some reason that struck Mallory as hysterical. "The pregnancy gave it away, right?

He looked over the counter to see Christopher standing at the bottom of the stairs, stark naked, book under one arm, Bear under the other. Preacher lifted one bushy brow. “Forget something there, pardner?” he asked. Chris picked at his left butt cheek while hanging on to the bear. “You read to me now?” “Um... Have you had your bath?” Preacher asked. The boy shook his head. “You look like you’re ready for your bath.” He listened upward to the running water. Chris nodded, then said again, “You read it?” “C’mere,” Preacher said. Chris ran around the counter, happy, raising his arms to be lifted up. “Wait a second,” Preacher said. “I don’t want little boy butt on my clean counter. Just a sec.” He pulled a clean dish towel out of the drawer, spread it on the counter, then lifted him up, sitting him on it. He looked down at the little boy, frowned slightly, then pulled another dish towel out of the drawer. He shook it out and draped it across Chris’s naked lap. “There. Better. Now, what you got here?” “Horton,” he said, presenting the book. “There’s a good chance your mother isn’t going to go for this idea,” he said. But he opened the book and began to read. They hadn’t gotten far when he heard the water stop, heard heavy footfalls racing around the upstairs bedroom, heard Paige yell, “Christopher!” “We better get our story straight,” Preacher said to him. “Our story,” Chris said, pointing at the page in front of him. Momentarily there were feet coming down the stairs, fast. When she got to the bottom, she stopped suddenly. “He got away from me while I was running the tub,” she said. “Yeah. In fact, he’s dressed like he barely escaped.” “I’m sorry, John. Christopher, get over here. We’ll read after your bath.” He started to whine and wiggle. “I want John!” Paige came impatiently around the counter and plucked him, squirming, into her arms. “I want John,” he complained. “John’s busy, Chris. Now, you behave.” “Uh—Paige? I’m not all that busy. If you’ll tell Jack I’m not in the kitchen for a bit, I could do the bath. Tell Jack, so he knows to lock up if everyone leaves.” She turned around at the foot of the stairs. “You know how to give a child a bath?” she asked. “Well, no. But is it hard? Harder than scrubbing up a broiler?” She chuckled in spite of herself. She put Chris down on his feet. “You might want to go a little easier than that. No Brillo pads, no scraping. No soap in the eyes, if you can help it.” “I can do that,” Preacher said, coming around the counter. “How many times you dunk him?” She gasped and Preacher showed her a smile. “Kidding. I know you only dunk him twice.” She smirked.

I’ll be good.” A wide, devilish grin flashed over his lips, and he looped an arm around her and pulled her back. For a split second, he lost the hard set of his jaw and looked downright carefree. “Or I can make you come three or four times until you’re too exhausted to pounce.” Shocked, she widened her eyes, and heat seared her cheeks. “That’s not being good!” “It is if you do it right.” “Um . . . I . . . ,” she gasped, stepping back. “Um . . . ,” she sputtered, not knowing what to say. Was that even possible? She darted a glance at Mitch and bit her bottom lip. With him, it might be, assuming she could get out of her own head. She frowned. Why was she thinking about this? She was not considering this. She wasn’t. This was something the old Maddie would have considered, back when she was young and reckless. Rash. She wasn’t that kind of woman anymore. Or was she? Concern flattened the smile that had graced Mitch’s lips moments ago. He held up his hands, as though she were a frightened animal and he had to demonstrate how harmless he was. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot myself for a second, and you’re fun to tease.” Oh,

Yes?” “Um…” the receptionist says. “What is it?” I bark. But then my office door opens, and Matt steps through. “He’s on his way to you,” the receptionist says. “Thanks for the warning,” I mutter. Matt closes my office door behind him and approaches me. I stand, and he tips my chin up toward his face. “I forgot something,” he says. He’s breathless, and his eyes search mine. “I forgot to tell you that I want your heart more than I want your body,” he says. His eyes are flitting all over my face. “I fucked that up, but I’m not done yet. And I know how to say I’m sorry.” “Matt—” I start. But he cuts me off. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and it’s difficult to even walk when I’m around you, because my dick gets so hard I could pound nails with it.” Heat creeps up my cheeks, but he doesn’t stop. “I shouldn’t have gone there with you yet, but I can’t help it. I’m fucking dying to be inside you. I’m fucking dying to hold you close to me, hopefully when we’re both naked.” He grins. “But even more than that, I want you to love me. I want you to love me a lot, and I went about it the wrong way. Please forgive me.” He finally stops and draws in a deep breath. “Please.” “Matt…” I say. “When I saw your boyfriend, all I could think was that I could satisfy you so much more, mainly because I was jealous as hell that he’s been close to you. Maybe I was trying to get him off your mind and put myself there. Or maybe I’m just an idiot. It’s probably the latter. I admit it. I’m an idiot when it comes to you. But that’s okay with me. I hope it’s okay with you, too.” “Matt,” I say again. “Forgive me,” he urges. “I won’t ever do it again.” I bracket his face with my hands. “Would you shut up for a minute?” I say. He breathes out a sigh. “Okay.” “I’m not mad. Well, a little annoyed that Seth repeated something to you that he overheard in a private conversation. That’s about me and Seth, though, not about you. I’ll deal with him about that. And no, I’m not mad at you. There’s nothing to forgive.” He doesn’t say anything. He just looks into my eyes. “Really, Matt,” I say to assure him. “You completely shut me down, which I deserved. But I already miss you.” “I haven’t gone anywhere.” I laugh.

But the power in this case is real indeed. You doubt the mystery and power of these aircraft and their markings? They are aeons old and yet they still operate!” “You’ve seen them fly? Where do they go? I am wondering if there is a city we can reach.” “Before you woke from your coffin, they flew indeed. Turning and turning in the widening gyre. What does that suggest?” “Um. Some rough beast is slouching toward Bethlehem waiting to be born, maybe?” “No doubt the spirit of prophecy escapes your lips! It must be prophecy because I cannot grok what you are saying.” “Sorry. Won’t happen again. It suggests a search pattern.

The menu: legendary deep-fried Turkeyzilla, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and green beans. The theme: dysfunction. “So,” Elysia said to Lex’s parents with her ever-friendly grin, “how are you?” “How do you think they are?” Ferbus whispered. She kicked him under the table. “I mean—um—what do you do? For a living?” Lex’s mother, who hadn’t said much, continued to stare down the table at the sea of black hoodies while picking at her potatoes. Lex’s father cleared his throat. “I’m a contractor,” he said. “And she’s a teacher.” “Omigod! I wanted to be a teacher!” Elysia turned to Mrs. Bartleby. “Do you love it?” “Hmm?” She snapped back to attention and smiled vacantly at Elysia. “Oh, yes. I do. The kids are a nice distraction.” “From what?” Pip asked. Bang smacked her forehead. Lex squeezed Driggs’s hand even tighter, causing him to choke on his stuffing. He coughed and hacked until the offending morsel flew out of his mouth, landing in Sofi’s glass of water. “Ewww!” she squealed. “Drink around it,” Pandora scolded. “So! I hear New York City is lovely this time of year.” Well, it looks nice, I guess,” Mr. Bartleby said. “But shoveling out the driveway is a pain in the neck. The girls used to help, but now . . .” Sensing the impending awkwardness, Corpp jumped in. “Well, Lex has been a wonderful addition to our community. She’s smart, friendly, a joy to be around—” “And don’t you worry about the boyfriend,” Ferbus said, pointing to Driggs. “I keep him in line.” Mrs. Bartleby’s eyes widened, looking at Lex and then Driggs. “You have a—” she sputtered. “He’s your—” Ferbus went white. “They didn’t know?” “Oops!” said Uncle Mort in a theatrical voice, getting up from the table. “Almost forgot the biscuits!” “Let me help you with those,” Lex said through clenched teeth, following him to the counter. A series of pained hugs and greetings had ensued when her parents arrived—but the rest of the guests showed up so soon thereafter that Lex hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to them, much to her relief. Still, she hadn’t stopped seething. “What were you thinking?” Uncle Mort gave her a reproachful look. “I was thinking that your parents were probably going to feel more lonely and depressed this Thanksgiving than they’ve ever felt in their lives, and that maybe we could help alleviate some of that by hosting a dinner featuring the one and only daughter they have left.” “A dinner of horrors? You know my track record with family gatherings!” He ignored her. “Here we are!” he said, turning back to the table with a giant platter. “Biscuits aplenty!” Lex grunted and took her seat. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,” she whispered to Driggs. “Me neither,” he replied. “I think my hand is broken in three places.” “Sorry.” “And your dad seems to be shooting me some sort of a death stare.” Lex glanced at her father. “That’s bad.” “Think he brought the shotgun?” “It’s entirely possible.” “All I’m saying,” Ferbus went on, trying to redeem himself and failing, “is that we all look out for one another here.” Mr. Bartleby looked at him. Ferbus began to sweat. “Because, you know. We all need somebody. Uh, to lean on.” “Stop talking,” Bang signed. Elysia gave Lex’s parents a sympathetic grin. “I think what my idiot partner is trying to say—through the magic of corny song lyrics, for some reason—is that you don’t need to worry about Lex. She’s like a sister to me.” She realized her poor choice of words as a pained look came to Mrs. Bartleby’s face. “Or an especially close cousin.” She shut her mouth and stared at her potatoes. “Frig.” Lex was now crushing Driggs’s hand into a fine paste. Other than the folding chairs creaking and Pip obliviously scraping the last bits of food off his plate, the table was silent. “Good beans!” Pip threw in.

Hi Nikki, It’s Brandon. Before you ball up this note and toss it away, please read it to the end. I’m still not sure what happened exactly, but I’ve been really bummed since we quit hanging out. Biology isn’t the same without us goofing off during class and you laughing at my lame jokes. I miss washing dogs at Fuzzy Friends with you, even though we end up getting more dog shampoo on ourselves than on them. And the dogs miss you too! Was it because of that . . . um, well, what we did at the kissing booth, at the end of the party? And the rumor that came out afterward? I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. I definitely wish I hadn’t done anything to mess up our friendship. You said something about how you don’t even know me. So what if we meet at the CupCakery after school today and grab some red velvet cupcakes——my treat! I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me (and not worry that you’ll think I’m weird). I’ve learned that honesty and trust are vital in a true friendship. If you decide NOT to hang out today, I totally understand. I guess that will mean I don’t really deserve your friendship. But it would make me happy if you would please give me another chance. Your Fuzzy Friend, Brandon

I glanced around. “Did you come by yourself?” “Actually, I drove up with Colby, but we are driving home tonight. We both have to work tomorrow.” I frowned. “You aren’t staying the night?” “I’m sorry. But I promise as soon as I get some time off, I’ll spend a whole weekend with you.” “Where’s Colby?” “Um, I don’t know. Around, I guess.” “So what made you two come up together?” I nudged her. “Any new developments I should know about?” “I’ll let you know tomorrow. I’m planning on seducing him on the car ride home.” I laughed. “Why not on the way up?” “I was scared he’d turn around.

Sorris? eu sou um louco. As utopias, Os sonhos da ciência nada valem, A vida é um escárnio sem sentido, Comédia infame que ensangüenta o lodo. Há talvez um segredo que ela esconde Mas esse a morte o sabe e o não revela, Os túmulos são mudos como o vácuo. Desde a primeira dor sobre um cadáver, Quando a primeira mãe entre soluços Do filho morto os membros apertava Ao ofegante seio, o peito humano Caiu tremendo interrogando o túmulo E a terra sepulcral não respondia.   Levanta‑me do chão essa caveira! Vou cantar‑te uma página da vida De uma alma que penou, e já descansa.

The roar of the motorcycle stopped, and the rider whipped off his sunglasses. “Are you trying to get your door taken off?” My heart had stopped the minute I’d looked into his piercing gray eyes, but anger quickly took over everything. “Do you always swing into parking spaces when someone is opening their door?” I rubbed my leg once more and stumbled awkwardly out of my car. I realized he hadn’t answered me, and after shutting my door and locking the car, I turned to face him, a frown tugging at my lips when I saw him smirking. “I’m fine, if you’re wondering.” He sat up straight on his Harley and took a deep breath in. “I’m sorry I made you hurt yourself. I’m Kash, by the way.” “Cash . . . like money? Or Johnny?” “Um, I guess we can go with Johnny, but with a K.” “Kash with a K. Got it. That’s a, uh . . . very interesting name. Fits the image, I guess.” His head jerked back. “I’m sorry, what?” I took a few steps toward the apartments before turning to look at him, my hand waving over his frame, which was now hunched back over his bike. I wondered who he was here to see. “You know, the whole ‘bad boy’ thing you’ve got going on there. Tattoos, lip ring, Harley. Makes sense you’d have a nickname and try to make it, I don’t know, awesome or something by having it start with a K. Have a nice day; try not to almost take any more car doors off, Kash with a K.” Kash

Both girls jumped at a hard blow on the door. Eve hastily unlocked the door and stepped back as it flew open, and Shane charged through. “How—?’” He was breathing hard, and he had a crowbar in his hand. He’d have broken through the locks, Claire realized, if he’d had to. She came toward him slowly, trying to figure out what he was feeling, and he dropped the crowbar and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and the warm, fast pump of his breath on her skin made her shiver in raw delight. “Oh Christ, Claire. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’” “Not your fault,’” Eve said. She held out the field hockey stick. “Look! I hit him. Um, twice.’” “Good.’” Shane kissed Claire’s cheek and let her slide back down to the floor, but he kept hold of her arms. His eyes, bright under the bruises and swelling, surveyed her carefully. “He didn’t hurt you? Either of you?’” “I hit him!’” Eve repeated brightly, and brandished the stick again for emphasis

How’s it going so far?” “Eh.” I examined my hair for split ends. “That good, huh?” “Well, let’s see. My sister just called my ex ‘babe,’ my mom may have suggested I got fat, and my dad might think I’m a lesbian.” Cade laughed. Like hard. “Okay. First off, you’re not fat. I should know. I’ve seen you naked.” My face warmed. “That you have.” “Very naked. In fact, picturing it right now.” He made a low satisfied sound. “Nope, definitely not fat.” I laughed. “Focus, Cade.” “Sorry, so, um, lesbian? What’s that about?” “Dad was teasing me, asking a bunch of questions about you. I told him if he mentioned anything to Mom, I’d tell her I was into girls—it would totally freak her out—then he gets all supportive of my lifestyle choices and says he’d love me no matter my orientation.” “So you told him about me?” I could tell he smiled by the sound of his voice. “Yeah. Though I’m not sure I’ve convinced him of your gender. On a good note, he approves of you, regardless.” Cade chuckled. “Good to know. Guess you said something right.

Nunca percebi, disse-me um dia, por que é que os meus pais me puseram, no meio de tanta pobreza, este nome pretensioso e brilhante: Diamantina! Ajustei os óculos e sorri.

So,” Josh starts, looking at Lauren. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’re back in the work force now.” He continues in that annoyingly nasal voice of his, “How does this weekend sound?” He blushes and looks down to his hands. What a putz. “Oh, um, she can’t do it this weekend,” Kaleigh answers for Lauren. “She’s having her bikini area waxed and styled,” she explains, nodding her head. “What?” He looks confused. “Well,”—Kaleigh leans in and whispers—“it’s like the Amazon down there.” Noah spits water from his mouth, while their mother puts her hand to her mouth and Lauren throws her fork down on the plate, the clatter hushing the whispers at our table. “Kaleigh,” she grates out, her jaw ticking. “What?” she asks. “Was it a secret?” She shrugs. “So sorry.” She brings her glass of wine to her mouth in an attempt to hide her smirk. “Dear,

Um, uh—yes. This is he. I mean me. I’m him.” Oh fuck. “Is this . . .” “You know who I am.” And just like that, my bitch mode turned on again. “Sorry, I’m not sure who this is. Can you give me your name?” A long, low exhale sounded through the phone. “It’s Gavin Brawley. I’ve been calling you for days. This is my last attempt.” “Really?” Gavin was starting to sound annoyed. “Is this how you act when trying to get a job?” “No, not usually. But I figured I’d screwed up and there was no way Mr. Carmichael would ever hire me.” “First off, I’m hiring you. Not him. I wanted you. Not him.

Hello? Baby?” I said anxiously. “Um, I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” said a voice on the other end. “This is Gwendolyn LeRoux—you know, the witch you hired? You wanted me to find the identity of the person who bought the cursed trap that was planted on your land.” “Oh, Gwendolyn, right.” I could feel myself deflating. “Look, now really isn’t the best time, so—” “Now, I know Taylor said you’ve already pretty much figured it out,” she went on. “But there’s something beneath the obvious—something big I think you should know about.” “Wait a minute—back up,” I said. “When did Taylor say that? When did you talk to her?” “Last night.” She suddenly sounded guarded. “Look, I’m sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you. I hope you know the role I played was strictly professional—I have no interest in taking sides.” “What role did you play?” I growled, tightening my grip on the phone case until it creaked in my hand. “What did you do to her, Gwendolyn? What did you fucking do?” “I only did what she asked me to do,” she said levelly. “Like I said, it’s not personal and it’s not what I’m calling you about. I need to tell you something about the person who put the trap on your land.” “I’ll be right there,” I snapped.

Todo mundo sorri na mesma lingua. O amor desconhece barreiras... Ele nao tem fronteira, Ele nao tem idade. Nada que separe a humanidade, Se o amor cura ate um coração a mingua.

JazzyGirl: LOL. Since you and Alex kept in contact, I assume he knows your partner. Evilnbored: Alex is my partner. He didn't have to wait as long for her response this time. In fact, he could almost imagine her screaming through the computer. JazzyGirl: OMG, OMG, OMG. I had no idea. Were the two of you together in high school? Evilnbored: No, not at all. We've only been partners since our senior year in college. Back in high school ... I never admitted to myself I liked guys as well as I did girls, although I had some inkling. And Alex ... I'll let him tell you his story. JazzyGirl: I can't believe you guys never told me. I feel left out. Her words sounded so much like the old Jasmine he really did laugh out loud. 33 Coming Full Circle by Liz Andrews Evilnbored: Sorry? JazzyGirl: Unacceptable. I need to be completely caught up on all the news that's fit to print. And all the other stuff too. Evilnbored: Um, okay, what do you want to know exactly? JazzyGirl: Hehehe, oh, you don't know it, but you gave me the keys to the castle. Evilnbored: Should I be scared? JazzyGirl: I'm not the evil one, LOL. Evilnbored: Oh boy. Ask away before I regret offering to tell you anything. JazzyGirl: You can't see me right now, but I'm rubbing my hands gleefully

She’s freaking out. If she cries, I won’t know what to do. I’m not used to crying chicks. I don’t think Carmen cried once during our entire relationship. In fact, I’m not sure Carmen has tear ducts. “Um…you okay?” I ask. “If this gets around, I’m never going to live it down. Oh, God, if Mrs. Peterson calls my parents I’m dead. Or at least I’ll wish I was dead.” She keeps talking and shaking, as if she’s a car with bad shocks and no brakes. “Brittany?” “…and my mom’ll blame it on me. It’s my fault, I know. But she’ll freak out on me and then I’ll have to explain and hope she--” Before she can get another word out I yell, “Brittany!” The girl looks up at me with an expression so confused I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her or stunned she’s rambling and can’t seem to stop. “You’re the one freakin’ out,” I comment, stating the obvious. Her eyes are usually clear and bright, but now they’re dull and blank as if she’s not all here. She looks down and around and everywhere except directly at me. “No, I’m not. I’m fine.” “The hell you are. Look at me.” She hesitates. “I’m fine,” she says, now focused on a locker across the hall. “Just forget everything I just said.” “If you don’t look at me, I’m gonna bleed all over the floor and need a fuckin’ transfusion. Look at me, dammit.” Her breathing is still heavy as she focuses on me. “What? If you want to tell me my life is out of control, I’m already aware of it.” “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” I tell her. “Even if you did, I probably deserved it.” I’m hoping to lighten the mood so the girl doesn’t have a complete breakdown in the hallway. “Makin’ mistakes ain’t a crime, you know. What’s the use in having a reputation if you can’t ruin it every now and then?” “Don’t try and make me feel better, Alex. I hate you.” “I hate you, too. Now please move out of the way so the janitor doesn’t have to spend all day moppin’ up my blood. He’s a relative, you know.

Rachel . . .” He ran a nervous hand through his hair and paused for a second, as if trying to figure out what to say. “The school year is about to end and you’ll be going back to Cali over the summer. I feel like I’m about to miss any chance with you I may have. And I don’t want to. I know you liked me when we were growing up. But, Rach, you were way too young back then.” “I’m still five years younger; that hasn’t changed.” He smirked. “You and I both know a relationship between a thirteen-year-old and eighteen-year-old, and a twenty-one- and twenty-six-year-old are completely different.” So? That doesn’t help my argument right now. “Well, you and I have both changed over the last eight years. Feelings change—” “Yes.” He cut me off and his blue eyes darkened as he gave me a once-over. “They do.” I hated that my body was responding to his look. But honestly, I think it’d have been impossible for anyone not to respond to him. Like I said. Adonis. “Uh, Blake. Up here.” He smiled wryly, and dear Lord, that smile was way too perfect. “Look, honestly? I have an issue with the fact that you’re constantly surrounded by very eager and willing females. It’s not like I’d put some claim on you if we went on a couple dates, but you ask me out while these girls are touching you and drooling all over you. It’s insulting that you would ask me out while your next lay is already practically stripping for you.” His expression darkened and he tilted his head to the side. “You think I’m fucking them like everyone else?” Ah, frick. Um, yes? “If you are, then that’s your business. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. But whether you are or not, you don’t even attempt to push them away. Since you moved here, I’ve never seen you with less than two women touching you. You don’t find that weird?” Was I really the only person who found this odd? Suddenly pushing off the wall he’d been leaning against, he took the two steps toward me and I tried to mold myself to the door. A heart-stopping smile and bright blue eyes now replaced his darkened features as he completely invaded my personal space. If he weren’t so damn beautiful I’d have karate-chopped him and reminded him of personal bubbles. Or gone all Stuart from MADtv on him and told him he was a stranger and to stay away from my danger. Instead, I tried to control my breathing and swallow through the dryness in my mouth. “No, Rachel. What I find weird is that you don’t seem to realize that I don’t even notice those other women or what they’re doing because all I see is you. I look forward to seeing you every day. I don’t think you realize you are the best part of my weekdays. I moved here for this job before I even knew you and Candice were going to school here, and seeing you again for the first time in years—God, Rachel, you were so beautiful and I had no idea that it was you. You literally stopped me in my tracks and I couldn’t do anything but watch you. “And you have this way about you that draws people to you . . . always have. It has nothing to do with how devastatingly beautiful you are—though that doesn’t hurt . . .” He smirked and searched my face. “But you have this personality that is rare. And it bursts from you. You’re sweet and caring, you’re genuinely happy, and it makes people around you happy. And you have a smile and laugh that is contagious.” Only men like Blake West could get away with saying things like that and still have my heart racing instead of making me laugh in their faces. “You’re not like other women. Even though these are the years for it, you don’t seem like the type of girl to just have flings, and I can assure you, that’s not what I’m into, nor what I’m looking for with you. So I don’t see those other women; all I’m seeing is you. Do you understand that now?” Holy shit. He was serious? “Rachel?” I nodded and he smiled. “So, will you please let me take you out this weekend?” For

Just as we were passing the school, Blake slid his hand down my arm and intertwined our fingers. “Rachel, why did you finally agree to go out with me?” When I looked up, I was surprised at his somber expression. I would have expected something a little more taunting. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?” “I’d appreciate it. I’ve asked you out for . . . shit. I don’t know, nine months now? No matter what I said, your answer was always no. Until last night.” “Well . . .” I looked down at the sidewalk passing beneath our feet. “You can tell me, it’s fine. You never were one to hide your feelings. And your hate for me lately has been a little more than apparent. I’m already expecting the worst.” “I don’t hate you. I just don’t exactly like you . . . anymore.” I squinted up at him and nudged his side with the arm he still had a firm grip on. He gave a little grunt with a forced smile. “Um, Candice is always bugging me for turning you down. She said she would stop if I agreed to one date with you.” I know, I know, I could have made something up that wasn’t so harsh. But I didn’t. If I hadn’t looked back down, I probably would have missed the pause in his step. “Figures.” We walked for a few more minutes before he paused and turned to me. “I’m not going to make you go out with me.” “You aren’t. I said I’d go.” He raised an eyebrow, making it disappear under his shaggy hair. “You also told me earlier today that we weren’t going anymore. I’m just letting you know I’ll stop. All of it. Asking you all the time, what I did today. And I’ll talk to Candice.” “Blake—” “No, Rach, I should have stopped a long time ago. I’m sorry you felt pressured into it last night. I want you to want to go on a date with me. I don’t want you to go just so she’ll drop it or because you want me to quit asking. Which I will.” I couldn’t tell if he looked more embarrassed or hurt. Is it ridiculous that I want to comfort him? “I want to go.” “No, you don’t.” Okay, still somewhat true. “I didn’t . . . before.” Ugh, who am I kidding. He knows I’m lying anyway. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. You can’t exactly blame me for not wanting to go out with you.” He looked as if I’d slapped him. I hurried on before I could chicken out on the rest. “I mean, come on, Blake, you were rumored to be screwing all these students, coworkers, and faculty. And not once did you try to shut down those rumors. Add to that, the Blake I grew up with is completely gone; now you’re usually kind of a douche. Why would I want to go out with someone like that?” “Rumors are going to spread no matter what I do. The more I try to stop them, the guiltier I look. Trust me. As for you thinking I’m a douche . . .” His voice trailed off and he ran a hand through his hair. “Try seeing it from my side. The only girl I’ve wanted for years now and can’t get out of my head no matter what I do repeatedly blows me off like I’m nothing.” Did he say years? Letting go of my hand, he turned away from me and ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” “What about drinks?” “I’m not going to make you do this, Rachel.” “Blake, why can’t you just be like this all the time? If how you were growing up, last night, and the last hour was how you always were . . . I probably wouldn’t have ever turned you down.” He huffed a sad laugh. “Yeah, well . . . obviously I’ve already fucked that up.” I watched him begin walking in the direction of the dorms and squeezed my eyes shut as I called after him, “You know, you kinda traumatized me tonight. I feel like you owe me a beer.” Peeking through my eyelashes, I saw him stop but not turn around. “And maybe dinner on Friday night?” When Blake turned to face me, his smile was wide and breathtaking.

Can we just get it out there right now that I don’t want anything with you or from you?” I’m not going to lie; it felt like she’d punched me. But I still nodded. “I’m not looking for, or interested in, a relationship. It’s nothing against you. I just—I can’t—I don’t. Um, I—” “Rachel.” I waited until she looked up at me and again found myself wishing I could figure out what she was hiding from me. Did she have a boyfriend? Just get out of a bad relationship? “It’s fine. Nothing between us, I got it.” With a quick breath in, she nodded her head and forced a smile. “We kind of got off on the wrong foot, but since we’re going to be neighbors I’d like it if we were friends. I’m sorry for how I was toward you when I met you, and I’m sorry for the confusion this morning—can we just start over?” Only being friends with her sounded about as fun as kicking puppies right now. But this was good; I didn’t have time for a distraction and Rachel would definitely be a distraction . . . I don’t know why I even try lying to myself. The real problem was I couldn’t put Rachel in my world. I couldn’t put her in this danger, and being with her would put her right in the middle of it. So friends it was, then. “Sure,” I said softly, and watched a genuine smile cross her face. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rachel Masters, from far West Texas.” God, she was cute. I grabbed her hand and tried to ignore the warmth coming from her body and how I wanted to lean into her, press my mouth to her neck, and breathe in the sweet scent coming from her. “Logan . . . Hendricks, from far East Texas. But you can call me Kash. It’s good to meet you, Rachel.” “You too, Kash with a K.

Hi, Luke!” Connie said brightly, grinning as she stood as close to Luke as possible. “Sorry I’m early, but I just couldn’t wait to see you!” She paused, catching herself. “Um, see you…get better at math. Which is why I’m here. Come on, Lukey!

I'm sorry," Matt said. "I messed up. Thank you for -" "We had to rescue you. From buffalo." Fen stepped forward. "And the fact that we messed up because we just finished rescuing Baldwin from Hel doesn't count at all? Really?" "We are pleased with you for that, son of Loki. As we are pleased with the son of Thor for getting you all out of Hel safely." "Um, I didn't get us out," Matt said. "It was a joint effort. I actually fell in a river of acid." "As you should," she said. "We are pleased for that, too." Obviously she was being sarcastic, but her expression and tone gave no sign of it.

Ivy looked up, clearly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about your men at the car. I didn't recognize them. They tried to stop me from coming in." My eyebrows rose, and Rynn Cormel's laughter shocked both Ivy and me. "If you bested them, they deserved it and needed the reminder. Thank you for correcting their poor interpretation of your skills." Ivy licked her lips. It was a nervous habit I didn't see often, and my tension rose. "Um," she hedged, trying to tuck her short hair behind an ear. "I think I ought to call an ambulance. I broke a few things.

Jaime, querido, eu o conheço desde que era um bebê no colo de Joanna. Sorri como Gerion e luta como Tyg e há um pouco de Kevan em você, caso contrário não usaria esse manto... Mas o filho de Tywin é Tyrion, não você.

Hello?" "Ah, is this the ... Bow-shawmp residence?" There was no trace of a Texas twang in the caller's accent, nor anything of the South. "Beech-um, yes, that's us. Sorry." "Ah, yeah. Beech-um? Okay.

with you, as your date?” Liam asks me. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I’m so sorry. What can I do for you in return?” “Well, since you offered,” Liam responds, “I would like some information.” “Information?” I ask with a frown. “Yes,” Liam says. “Remember all those deep, dark secrets I said I’d extract from you? Well, if you share them with us, then I’ll be your date for your sister’s wedding.” This is probably the worst thing he could have requested. My mouth feels suddenly very dry. “Um. Isn’t there anything else you might want? Maybe I could dedicate my next book to you?” He laughs lightly. “You’re going to do that anyway once I get your sight back.” I rack my brain, searching for something I could give him. “I’ll have my publisher put out a press release,” I offer, “or maybe schedule an event, like a book launch. We can publicly declare that you’re the hero who helped the semi-famous blind author Winter Rose to see. Even if it doesn’t work, and I can’t see, I’ll pretend like I can, and you’ll probably get tons of research grants and stuff.” “I’m pretty sure that you’re going to do that anyway,” Liam tells me, “because it’s a good story that will sell books.” “Okay,” I mumble, getting desperate. “How about I name a character after you?” “That would be nice,” Liam says. “I’ll take all of the above, but I’ll still need one additional thing to sweeten the pot. Information.” “Why?” I moan in protest. “Because I’m curious,” he answers in a good-natured way. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.” I sigh. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Really? Right here. Right now? In front of Owen?” “Yeah, why not?” Liam says cheerfully. “He’s been telling us way more than we need to know for a while.” “I want to hear, too,” Owen chimes in.  “Entertain us, storyteller!” I spend a moment gathering my composure. I smooth my hands over my legs, and look around uneasily. Taking a deep breath, I try to mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to say to two complete strangers. “Well... three years ago, I was raped.” A hush falls over the car. I can feel the men looking

Ren? Talk to me.” His lips twitched before he finally spoke in a low tone. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing again and make you cry more.” The pure innocent sweetness of that wrenched another sob from her. “Ah, see now what I did. I’m sorry, Kateri. I won’t say anything else. I promise.” She laid her head down on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s so not you, baby. You did nothing, absolutely nothing wrong.” She squeezed him tight, wishing she could make him understand. “All you’ve been is wonderful.…” Ren knew she was speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. Not after she’d called him baby and sweetie. No one had ever used an endearment for him before. Until now, the closest anyone had come was to call him friend or brother. But baby … He’d never been anyone’s baby. “Are you listening to me?” You should probably say yes. That would be the smartest thing to do. But for some stupid reason the truth came out before he could stop it. “Um … no.” “Why are you tuning me out?” she snapped as fury lit up her eyes. Ren moved his jaw, trying to explain, but no words would leave his lips as he stammered over the word I. Why do I always do this shit when I least want to look like an idiot? He expected her to be angry. Instead, she kissed him senseless. Every part of him went into overdrive as his cock hardened. She pulled back. “What were you trying to say?” Heat scalded his face. “I didn’t hear anything after you called me baby.

Eu estava ali a olhar para tudo. Ele avançou para mim, cambaleando. Os dois negros atrás olharam admirados. Ele chegou-se. Conservei-me quieto. O seu hálito tocava-me. Suportei tudo e inconscientemente sorri. Ele despertava em mim todas as imagens da minha infância. Por isso eu sorria, com um sorriso que o tocou. Olhou bem para mim e bateu-me no ombro. — Olá, pá, não pagas nada? E eu vi no brilho dos seus olhos mortiços e raiados de sangue que me tinha reconhecido. E na noite quente, eu e ele falámos muito, toldados ambos pelo palhete da taberna. Nunca me soube tão bem vinho palhete! Um encontro de acaso! Cá fora, sumindo-se na escuridão, negra como eles, os dois amigos cambaleavam abraçados. E o da harmónica tirava do instrumento uma música que parecia arroto de bêbado através de palhetas, mas que no fundo era a canção de todos nós, meninos brancos e negros que comemos quiquérra e peixe frito, que fizemos fugas e fisgas e que em manhãs de chuva deitávamos o corpo sujo na água suja e de alma bem limpa íamos à conquista do reduto dos bandidos do Canaxixe.

My heart sunk. I never understood why people felt sorry for me. Yes it hurt knowing I’d never meet my mom, but I hadn’t had the chance to lose her. She was already gone. But this? I would never understand Brandon’s hurt, and I didn’t know how to try, but I wanted to take it away. What I did know, was that he didn’t need my condolences right now, so I reached my hand across the table and rested it on top of his. He made slow circles on my thumb causing my entire hand to heat up. “Tell me about him.” He glanced up and my breath caught at his expression. If a masculine man could be described as beautiful, then his expression was just that. “He was amazing. Hard worker, but always home for dinner with us. Brought my mom flowers every other weekend, never missed one of our games. Taught me how to play football and surf. He made sure to let us know we could have anything we wanted if we worked hard enough for it. I always wanted to be like him when I grew up. Everyone loved him, he was a great man.” “Sounds like it. I’m sure he would be very proud of you.” He smiled at me and sat back into the chair, looking at me intently. “What?” “I’ve never had someone ask me that. Normally people just tell me they’re sorry and get uncomfortable. It’s awkward and to be honest, gets kind of old.” “Does it bother you that I asked?” “Not at all. It’s nice to talk about him sometimes. Your dad ever talk about your mom?” “Um, not exactly. Just said enough to let me know I reminded him too much of her. It never made sense to me, he always kept me close, like with the home-schooling, but he always made it clear he didn’t want me.” I snapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else. I exhaled in relief when he didn’t ask me to explain that further. “Well it’s his loss.” Yeah,

At some point I must have fallen asleep on the couch I’d been sharing with Chase because an explosion on the TV jerked me awake. “It’s just the movie,” he whispered in my direction and ran his fingers over my cheek, “don’t move yet Princess.” “Don’t move? Why?” “I’m almost done, give me another minute or two.” I heard his hand moving back and forth across the paper slowly and waited until he kneeled down in front of the couch so his face was directly in front of mine. My breath caught and his electric blue eyes glanced down to my barely parted lips. His tongue absently wetted his lips and his teeth lightly bit down on his bottom one as his gaze roamed my face. “Why couldn’t I move?” I managed to ask when he started closing the distance between us. He abruptly stopped and blinked a few times, “Oh, um. Well … here. Just don’t freak out, okay? I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” “You’re not supposed to tell someone not to freak out, those words alone cause them to freak out.” Chase smirked, “Okay, well then don’t hit me or use your pressure point training on me again.” Before I could roll my eyes at him, he brought his sketch pad up in front of me and my jaw dropped. I felt my cheeks burn and he took that the wrong way. Snatching the pad of paper back up, he cursed softly. “I knew it was creepy.” “Chase,” I breathed and shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, “that wasn’t creepy. Can I see it again?” When he didn’t make an attempt to move I reached my arm toward the book, “Please.” He handed it over with a sigh and looked at me with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, but you looked too perfect. I couldn’t let that opportunity pass.” My stupid blush came back with force when he said that and I focused at his drawing. It was amazing, somewhat embarrassing, but remarkable none the less. With the shading and the detail he’d captured of my upper body and face, it almost looked like a black and white photo. It was perfect. From my chest, throat and slightly open mouth to the way my hair fell around my face and my eyelashes rested against my cheeks, it was one hundred percent me. He even had my hand clutching the pillow under my head that was resting on his leg, as well as the blanket that had been pulled up to the swell of my breasts. Goose bumps covered my body as I realized he’d spent however long staring at, and replicating, every part of me while I’d been completely unaware. He was wrong, it wasn’t creepy, it was beautiful and strangely intimate. “Chase, it–” I cleared my throat and tried again, “It’s incredible.” Incredible didn’t cover it. “Yeah?” I looked up into his eyes and smiled, “Yeah.” We stayed there staring at each other, my mind and heart completely torn in two. One half desperately wanted to act on the feelings his drawing had stirred up in me, and the other was screaming at me to sit up and scoot away from him. Before I could try to make a decision, another series of explosions came from the TV and we both jolted away from each other. My

Try you? No.” He stared into my eyes. “I wouldn’t think of it. I mean, what would be the point…after such a lovely evening?” He smirked somewhat. “And, um—what would you hope to gain?” “What happened to that person I met yesterday? I’m inviting him to this lovely occasion.” “Sorry. He can’t make it. He’s off tonight.” “Precisely!” I attempted to bolt, but he grabbed my arm.

I mean – I don’t know. This whole thing is just so weird and confusing. I already,” I looked at them quickly, my cheeks heating with shame, “um, I already think about him playing Dad for Gummy Bear. He’s so sweet with him and I find myself thinking how good of a father he would be. I’m afraid if I were to be with him again, I would just assume he would want to play that part and that isn’t fair to Brandon. Or what if he didn’t want that role at all? I can’t pressure him into even having to make that kind of a decision.” “Kid,” Konrad snorted, “I’m sorry, but really? You really think all that?” “No. But I feel like I’m taking advantage of him or something.” “Okay, it’s painfully obvious to us that he would be there for you and GB in a heartbeat. But hearing you say that, it’s just so frustrating knowing that you two are doing this to each other. You sound just like Brandon.” “What do you mean?” “I love you Kid, but God you’re so dense sometimes. He freaking loves you. And I know you know that. But he’s terrified that he’s going to push you away with his feelings for you and GB. It doesn’t help that you keep telling him you guys can’t be together.” He momentarily took a hand off Bree’s thigh to stop me when my mouth opened, “I know why you say that, and he gets it too. But all of us are just waiting for the day when you guys finally acknowledge the fact that you can’t live without each other. So you’re sitting here telling us you’re afraid of pushing him into something you think he might not want to go into, or you think he shouldn’t have to. And when we go work out or surf, all he can talk about is wanting to take care of you and GB for the rest of your lives, but he’s worried that if he says anything you’ll shut him out for good. You know he told me he’d rather be your friend for the rest of his life than risk not being able to make sure you guys are happy and okay?” “Oh Brandon.” I whispered. “God I’ve been so selfish, he needs to go live his life. I need to make him leave.” “No, you’ve been stupid. I’m sorry,” his hands went back in surrender as he looked at Mom, “but someone needs to say it to her. Harper,” he waited until I was looking in his eyes, “you love him, and you want to be with him. He loves you and GB and would give anything to be with you. So stop fighting it, this is like ten times worse than you not telling Chase you were pregnant. And yeah, I knew then too.” Bree, Mom and I all stared at him in shock, “I was with you and Bree all the time, it was obvious right away what was going on.” There

I’m fine. How are you, Nic? How are the babies?” “Why aren’t you in town?” she asked with an edge in her voice. “Why are you holed up at Eagle’s Way?” “I miss you.” “Answer my question.” “I just did. I miss you, Nic. Town is lonely without you. It’s crowded with tourists, too, and for some reason that only makes me miss you more.” After a long pause, she said, “Your sister-in-law told Celeste that you almost killed yourself last fall. There’s some concern you’ve, um, relapsed. Everyone is very worried about you.” “Everyone?” He waited a long pause, but when she failed to respond, he added, “No one needs to worry. I’m not depressed and I’m certainly not suicidal. I don’t want you to be concerned about my mental health. Except for missing you, I’m fine, I promise. In fact, Celeste came by a little while ago. You can talk to her. She’ll back me up. Now, since I have you on the phone, can I ask how you’re doing? How the babies are doing? I think about you every day and—” “Stop it, Gabe,” she interrupted. “I’m not ready for this. The only reason I called was because I can’t say no to Lori.” “Then I guess that attending childbirth classes with you is out of the question?” “Doing what?” “I assume you’re signed up for childbirth classes and I was hoping you’d let me go with you. Otherwise I’m going to go to the classes at the hospital over in Gunnison.” “Wait. Hold on. I don’t get it.” “I want to be part of their lives, Nicole. I’m not going to push you, but I want you to know that I’m committed. I will be there for them, and for you, to whatever extent you’ll allow. I know you have good reason not to believe me, so I’m not going to ask that of you. I’ll let my actions prove my words.” He held his breath waiting for her response. For a long moment she said nothing. When she finally did speak, she broke his heart. “You hurt me, Gabe.” “I know.” He swallowed hard, and in that moment he truly despised himself. “I’m so, so sorry.” He

Look out of the window and tell me what you see.” “Um…a small, scruffy dog watching a man taking a piss in an alley,” said Moist. “Sorry, but you chose the wrong time.” “Had I been taken less literally,” said Lord Vetinari, giving him a Look, “you would have seen a large, bustling city, full of ingenious people spinning wealth out of the common clay of the world.

He lifted me up and sat me on the counter, gave me another kiss that almost reduced me to a puddle and walked over to Jeremy, “Come help me with the ice chests.” “Brandon! I just barely got down from the counter, and Jeremy had to help me!” “I know.” He smiled wickedly and walked out to the garage. I turned to Konrad, “Care to help?” “Ya know, I forgot to get the ice from the store … wanna go with me baby?” He grabbed Bree’s hand and led her quickly out of the kitchen. Jerks. Looking to the only person left in the room I added dryly, “Want to join?” Aubrey walked up next to me and had to jump three times before she got enough leverage to lift herself all the way up. “They’re really high up, right? It’s not just me?” “No, it’s definitely not just you.” She said softly and tucked her hair behind her ears, “Thank you so much for having us, this is really sweet of you.” “Of course! It’s fun to do. I apologize in advance if it gets rowdy. I don’t know much about the guys coming.” She laughed and swung her legs back and forth, “That’s fine.” Man, did I talk this soft too? “So tell me, how did you meet Jeremy?” “Um, school.” “Oh yeah? How long have you been dating?” Aubrey blushed fiercely and looked over to the door leading to the garage, “Only a week. He asked me out a few times last year, we were Chemistry partners, but I don’t know … he scared me.” “What? Why?” “Well I mean, besides his size, he’s really popular and outgoing. He was already popular after his first week at the school, and I knew a lot of girls liked him. I don’t know. Guys like him don’t date girls like me, I thought it was a joke.” The first half of that didn’t surprise me one bit. He’d really filled out in the last year, was built just like Brandon, and looked exactly like him. Their size was intimidating, and they were incredibly handsome. But what the hell? “I’m sorry, I must be missing something, girls like you?” “He plays football and is the captain of the soccer team, I’m not into sports or anything school related really.” “If he’s dating you, then I’m pretty sure that doesn’t matter at all to him. You’re gorgeous Aubrey, and you seem really sweet, it’s not hard to see why he likes you. Jeremy doesn’t just date girls … actually, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in the two years that I’ve been with Brandon. So for him to ask you out is a big thing for him. And those boys don’t have a cruel bone in their body, he would never date you as a joke. He’s just like his brother, they’re extremely protective and devoted to the girls in their life. Nothing less.” She blushed again, “You and Brandon are so perfect together. Jeremy’s told me so much about you both, and seeing you together is cute. It’s obvious how much you love each other.” I smiled and leaned back on my hands, “We are definitely in love.” Brandon

She was sitting on a bench, her skirts bunched up on her thighs and her elbows resting on her knees as she tried to slow her breathing, when she heard a male voice. “Um, I think I should tell you I’m here.” Jane sat upright, quickly pulling her skirts back down to her ankles. She had been wearing drawers, of course, but it still felt absurdly immodest to sit that way in 1816 attire. She looked around, seeing no one. “Where are you?” she asked. Theodore, her dance partner of late, stood from behind the bush directly in front of her. His impressive height made it seem that he was slowly expanding while standing up, like stretched taffy. “What were you doing back there?” “I’m a gardener,” he said, raising the shovel and pick like a show of evidence. “I was just working here, I wasn’t trying to spy.” “You, uh, caught me there at an unladylike moment. Mrs. Wattlesbrook would probably box my ears.” “That’s why I spoke. I wanted to let you know you were not alone before you did something--something worse.” “Like what?” “Whatever women do when they think they’re alone.” He laughed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m talking about, you surprised me and I’m just--” His smile dropped. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk…I’m not supposed to talk to you.” “Well, you already have. We may as well meet for real this time, without old Wattlesbrook spying. I’m Jane.” “Theodore the gardener,” he said, wiping off his hand and then offering it to her. She shook it, wondered if they should be bowing and curtsying, but is that what you do with a gardener? The entire conversation felt forbidden, like a secret Austen chapter that she discovered longhand in some forgotten file. “The gardens look lovely.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Ma’am? she thought. “So,” he said, his eyes taking in everything but her face, “you’re from the former colonies?” She looked hard at him to detect if he was serious. He glanced at her, then down again, and sort of bowed. She laughed. He tossed his pick into the ground. “I can’t play this. I sound completely daft.” “Why would you have to play anything?” “I’m supposed to be invisible. You don’t know all the lectures we heard on the matter--stay out of the way, look down, don’t bother the guests. I shouldn’t have said a word, but I was afraid of getting stuck behind that shrub all day trying not to make a peep. Or worse, you discovering me after a time and thinking I was a lecherous lunatic trying to peek up your skirt. So, anyhow, how do you do, the name’s Martin Jasper, originally from Bristol, raised in Sheffield, enjoy seventies rock and walks in the rain, and please don’t tell Mrs. Wattlesbrook. I need this job.” “I didn’t exactly find Mrs. Wattlesbrook the kind of lady I’d be tempted to confide in. Don’t worry, Martin.” “Thanks. Guess I should leave you to your lady stuff.” He picked up his tools and walked away.

She lost her grip and plummeted into the grass, landing on the ground so hard she was jarred all over. Before she could recover, she felt Ash’s hands on her, urgent and ungentle, rolling her back and forth on the grass until her nose was as full of the smell of wet grass as of smoke. She sat up spluttering. “I’m so sorry, you were on fire,” Ash blurted. “Obviously, I didn’t think you were rolling me around on the grass for fun,” said Kami. “Um. Or something that sounds less saucy than that, sorry.

I returned to my corner and sought comfort in thoughts of lunch. Suddenly the phone on my desk rang. I went into shock. It had not rung before. What should I do now? The others were already talking on their own phones, so this one was down to me. It rang again, sounding louder. In my nervous, beginner’s state it even sounded royal . . . I picked up the receiver. “Hello?” I said, clearing my throat. That didn’t sound very confident, I thought. “Hello?” said a man’s voice. It was crackly and faint, but vaguely familiar. “Who’s that?” The voice sounded rather tetchy. “Who’s calling?” I asked, trying to sound as if I were getting a grip. “It’s the Prince of Wales speaking,” said the voice. Definitely tetchy. Panic. “Oh . . . sorry, Sir. Um . . .” Richard had finished his call and, from the far side of the room, his antennae had already picked up my plight. Dabbing a key on his fiercely complicated-looking phone, he cut in smoothly. “It’s Richard here, Sir . . .” I imagined I could hear the relief in His Master’s Voice. What a great start, I thought.

Nate?” “Hmmp?” “Did you, um, did you just giggle?” Squinting up at me with one eye open, he said, “No. It was more of a grunt.” “Oh, was that what it was?” He nodded. “Sorry, I could have sworn you giggled.” “Nope.” “It was a laugh,” he said through gritted teeth. “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “You giggled, admit it.” “I didn’t fucking giggle. I don’t giggle.” “Say it, and I’ll finish what I started.” That made him pause. “I have some dignity.” A sly smile spread across my face. “Yes, but is it enough to turn down a blow job?

Um, we’ll ask your mom. Okay, bunny?” The classic answer he used so often. “Bunny?!” she squealed. “I’m not a bunny!” In spite of her words she jumped to her feet. He waved a hand at her. “Are you sure you’re not a bunny? You just jumped up like a bunny.” Giggling, she circled the little wooden table they sat at and shoved a tiny fist into his shoulder. Chad pretended to be wounded, falling from the pint-sized chair to the floor, moaning in pain. Mercy did not live up to her name as she tackled him while he was down, tickling him in the sides at an especially sensitive spot she’d found weeks ago. It had been another wrestling session, but in her defense, she was only protecting herself from her own tickling attack. Laughing hard, trying to get away from her sharp little fingers, Chad rolled across the room, being impaled by Mega-bloks in his back. He finally cried uncle and Mercy fell across him, her hands in the air in victory. “You’re going to give me a complex, little girl.” “What’s a complex?” she asked. Chad rolled his eyes, wondering how he got himself into these situations. “It’s when you make somebody worry about something.” She blinked and her pretty green eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have an ̓omplex. I love you.” Chad stilled, all of the events swirling through the past nine months slowed to focus on this one second. “I love you too, bunny. Bunches. Think your mom has dinner ready yet? Maybe we should go down and cheer her on, you know, to make her cook faster.” Once again, Mercy’s mood lightened. “Yes, let’s do that.” Bouncing

The host read the question off a card as it appeared on a studio monitor. “John’s father has five sons: Alan, Blan, Clan, and Dlan. What did he call his fifth son?” The pinochle champ was the first to buzz in. “Mr. Fontaine?” said the host. “Elan,” he said confidently. “The five names obviously follow a logical alphabetical progression, A, B, C, D. So E-lan would be next.” The college professor made a face. She would have given the same answer. “I’m sorry,” said the host. “That is incorrect.” Jake buzzed in. “Mr. McQuade?” “Um, the fifth son’s name was John. Because in your question you said, ‘John’s father had five sons.’ So one of the sons has to be, you know, named John.” “That is correct!

Há um sábio provérbio chinês que diz "O homem cujo rosto não sorri não deve abrir uma loja".

There was a book called The Twenty-Six Commandments of Irish Dueling. That sounded cool. Nicholas reached for it, but Seiji’s books were packed together so tightly he actually had to force the book out. The bookcase rocked, and a watch in a little case tumbled from the top shelf and hit the floor. A different book fell down and struck Nicholas’s foot. Nicholas, hopping in wild dismay, stepped on the watch. The plastic case cracked. When Nicholas hastily removed his foot, he saw that the watch inside the case had cracked, too. The whole disaster took about five seconds. Seiji sounded calmly pleased to be proven right. “I knew you would do something like this.” “Um,” said Nicholas. “Oops. Sorry. I’ll pay for that! Or I’ll get it fixed or something!” Seiji sighed dismissively, opening his book back up. “All right.” That made Nicholas feel much worse. There were plenty of guys at Kings Row who would’ve got very nasty about Nicholas daring to touch, let alone break, their stuff. Seiji wasn’t like that. Seiji’s words might cut, but he didn’t say them to cut. Seiji wasn’t Aiden, whom Nicholas never paid attention to. When Aiden spoke, all Nicholas heard was: Blah, blah, blah, I’m a snotty rich kid who talks too much. Nicholas had never seen Seiji get any pleasure out of being cruel. That was what made Seiji’s words cut deep. Nicholas knew Seiji meant what he said.

Erin clapped her hands. “Great work, everyone! Time to shut it down and go shopping!” “Woo-hoo!” Lucy cheered. When I didn’t, she raised one of my arms for me. “Woo-hoo!” “Um . . . can Nicole come with us?” I asked. Lucy promptly dropped my arm. “Boo-hoo.” Erin made a pained expression. “Does she have to?” I frowned. “She doesn’t have to, but it would be nice for her to make more friends.” “So let her decide that,” said Sophia from where she was packing her bag. “She hasn’t tried to get to know any of us. Why should we make the extra effort?” “That’s not tr—nice,” I said. She was kind of right. Nicole didn’t seem to spend time with anyone but me. “Fine,” I said, texting Nicole back. As I typed, I said the message aloud. “Sorry, can’t. Have plans.” “Thanks,” said Lucy. “Maybe we can all hang out some other time, but I just want it to be our group today. And Nicole’s . . . you know.” She didn’t have to say it, but I could fill in the blanks. Nicole’s an outsider. “Sure,” I said. Lucy got to her feet. “For now, we have places to be and things to buy!” “Shoppinggg!” Erin sang, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder. “Let’s go!” She pulled me to a standing position. “Woo-hoo!” Lucy cheered again. “Have fun!” Leila told us. “How can we not?” I said, forcing a lighthearted laugh. Since I was excited about shopping and I’d argued with my friends enough for one day, I decided to let it go.

Mom was excited to get back to the island, watching as it appeared in the distance. Her anticipation turned to dread, and she gasped, her hands on her mouth, when she saw the dock they had worked so hard on before gone. “What happened?” she asked, breaking her silence for the first time. “I’m pretty sure this was Ortho's work. He seemed to really hate villagers and destroyed every village he came across,” Dad said with a frown. Mom’s face softened. “I’m glad he can't do that anymore. This is so sad.” They pulled up to the island, stretching as they stepped from their boats. “We should probably fix up a shelter,” Dad said. “We’ll need a place for when it gets dark. Then I think we should strategize for this ocean monument trip we have to make.” “Oooh!” Kate said. “We should have turtle shell helmets!” Mom gasped. “Kate! Why would you do that to the poor turtles?” Kate giggled. “No Mom, baby turtles drop scute when they grow into big turtles, then you can collect it and make turtle shell helmets. They’re cool because they let you breathe underwater a bit longer. Plus, you can enchant them with...um. I forgot the name. But there’s an enchantment that helps you breathe longer, too.” “And one for mining underwater,” Jack added. “Why would you need that?” Dad asked. “Can’t you just mine like normal?” Jack shook his head. “Have you ever tried to swing a pickaxe underwater?” Dad blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Sorry to dredge that up.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Mom was about to give Dad ‘The Look’ but Kate beat her to it. “No Dad, Jack already did a bunch of jokes.” “What?” Dad looked offended. “I’m supposed to do the Dad jokes!” “You are,” Jack said. “That’s why I did Jack Jokes.” Dad snorted out a laugh. “Were they punny?” Jack grinned. “Definitely. They worked great for our new villager friends when they helped us on the farm. They were real ice-breakers.” Dad laughed extra loud. “That’s it, I’m done!” Kate said. “Come on Mom, let’s go get some turtle scute.” “I’m right there with you girl. Let’s go.” Dad waved. “We’ll make sure we have shelter, and we’ll give it a nice outfit.” Dad winked. Jack cocked his head. “What does a house wear?” Dad grinned. “Address!” Jack laughed, and the girls rolled their eyes. “We’ll make sure not to build a house like a penguin though. They just igloo them together.” Kate and Mom groaned and hurried off towards the turtles. “Don’t run in front of a car!” Jack yelled. “You might get tired!” “Run faster, Mom,” Kate yelled. Dad and Jack laughed at their fleeing forms. Chapter 18 By the time Mom and Kate came back from their turtle excursion, Dad and Jack had fixed up a house

Good. Good,” He hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and rocks back on his heels. “I’m doing alright. Got a divorce last summer.” My mouth opens, then closes. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? “Oh, um, sorry to hear that,” I glance around, hoping for a rescue. “No need, it was for the best,” the smile hasn’t left his face and it’s making me feel all sorts of weird. “Okay, well…” I plaster on my best smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” My exit is awkward as fuck, but I’m not in the right head space right now to talk to some guy about his divorce.

Amy pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping her shaky arms around them. “I’m just so sorry, Sophie. I can’t believe what a brat I was.” “Um, you were six,” Sophie reminded her. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s a brat when they’re six.

WHAT KIND OF JERK leaves scrolls lying around in the HALLWAY where ANYONE COULD SET THEM ON FIRE?” Peril demanded. “Someone is TRYING to pick a fight with me, is that it?” “Um … that was my homework,” mumbled a RainWing nervously from the nearest doorway. “Oh,” Peril said. She drew her wings back in, eyeing the hapless dragonet, who was half her size and a nervous fizzy green color. “Um.” She shot a glance at Turtle, of the “there’s a right thing to say here, isn’t there?” variety. “Well, next time, keep your mess in your own cave, all right?” she said, with what Turtle knew was about as much gentleness as she could muster. “S-s-sorry,” stammered the RainWing. Turtle cleared his throat. “I’m sure Peril is sorry, too,” he offered. She tilted her head at him. “For burning up this dragon’s homework. Which he probably worked very hard on.” Turtle tipped his head at the dragonet. “Ah, okay, sure,” Peril said, nodding vigorously. “I’m sorry your scroll got under my claws and met a fiery end,” she said to the RainWing. “On the plus side, at least it was a scroll and not, say, your tail.” He turned an even paler shade of green and vanished into his cave. “Good idea!” she called after him. “You shouldn’t leave tails lying around the hallways either!” “That’s our Peril,” Turtle said to Qibli. “Spreading a little terror before bedtime.

Hello... Um... Sorry. I’m Mhavryck. You know... from HorseMingle.com.

And, of course,” Zeus continued, though he looked like his pants were smoldering, “we must…um…thank Poseidon.” “I’m sorry, brother,” Poseidon said. “What was that?” “We must thank Poseidon,” Zeus growled. “Without whom…it would’ve been difficult—” “Difficult?” Poseidon asked innocently. “Impossible,” Zeus said. “Impossible to defeat Typhon.” The gods murmured agreement and pounded their weapons in approval.

É do bem-estar que um coração como o seu pode ter pena? Aflige-se com a ideia de estar por muito tempo na obscuridade? Mas do senhor depende que essa obscuridade não seja eterna. Transforme-se em sol e todos o verão. O sol, acima de tudo, é o sol! Por que sorri outra vez? Por eu seu como Schiller?

MAN: I’ll just circle back the way I came. I’m really sorry to have bothered you. (Starts to leave.) WOMAN: Who are you looking for anyway? MAN: (Hesitates, not sure if he should tell her.) Um…my soulmate. WOMAN: (Instantly serious.) Oh. MAN: Yeah. WOMAN: No wonder you need to find them. MAN: How mad do you think they’ll be? WOMAN: That you got lost? I think they’ll understand.

Hi,” he said, and his blue gaze rested on my face with disconcerting focus. I blinked up at him. “Good morning, sir.” Are you free tonight? Can I lick your nose? Make you dinner? Bear your young? “I’m sorry for the, um, inconvenience.

O DESPERTAR Senhor A gaiola se tornou pássaro e voou e meu coração está louco porque uiva para a morte e sorri detrás do vento para meus delírios Que farei com o medo Que farei com o medo Já não dança a luz em meu sorriso nem as estações queimam pombas em minhas idéias Minhas mãos ficaram nuas e foram aonde a morte ensina os mortos a viver Senhor O ar me castiga o ser Detrás do ar existem monstros que bebem meu sangue É o desastre É a hora do vazio não vazio É o instante de pôr ferrolho nos lábios ouvir os condenados a gritar contemplar cada um de meus nomes enforcados no nada Senhor Tenho vinte anos Também meus olhos têm vinte anos e contudo não dizem nada Senhor Consumei minha vida num instante A última inocência explodiu Agora é o nunca jamais ou simplesmente foi Por que não me suicido diante do espelho e desapareço para reaparecer no mar onde um grande barco me esperaria com as luzes acesas? Por que não extraio minhas veias e faço com elas uma escada para fugir ao outro lado da noite? O princípio deu à luz o fim Tudo continuará igual Os sorrisos gastos O interesse interessado As gesticulações que arremedam o amor Tudo continuará igual Mas meus braços insistem em abraçar o mundo Porque ainda não lhes ensinaram que já é demasiado tarde Senhor Expulsa os féretros de meu sangue Recordo minha infância quando eu era uma anciã As flores morriam em minhas mãos porque a dança selvagem da alegria lhes destruía o coração Recordo as negras manhãs de sol quando era criança quer dizer ontem quer dizer faz séculos Senhor A gaiola se tornou pássaro e devorou minhas esperanças Senhor A gaiola se tornou pássaro Que farei com o medo

You know, my queen,” Lutian said thoughtfully, “there is another solution that I see.” She turned to look at Lutian, who was riding just behind them. “And that is?” “All you truly need for proof is Prince Christian’s heraldic emblem. Return home pregnant, with it, and they will have no choice except to accept your word for the baby’s father.” Christian was even more aghast at that proposition than he’d been at Adara’s. “And just who would be the father of her unborn child that she would pass off as mine?” Lutian straightened up in the saddle. “I humbly submit myself to Her Grace’s will to use my meek and virile body in any manner she sees fit.” Adara squelched a laugh at his kind offer. Leave it to Lutian to come up with such a solution. But if looks could kill, Lutian would be severed in twain by Christian’s heated glare. “I beg your pardon, fool?” Adara was almost amused by the anger in Christian’s tone. It would be nice if she could attribute it to jealousy, but she knew better. “Aye,” she said, wanting to nettle her husband even more. “It just might work.” Christian gaped at her. “You would bed the village idiot?” Lutian snorted at that. “Pray tell who is the greater idiot? The man who would see his son king or the one who is holding a beautiful woman in his lap, with full matrimonial rites to her, who refuses her, a throne, and a wealthy kingdom full of people to do his every bidding? I think, in the grand scheme of this, I am by far the wisest man here.” Lutian kicked his horse abreast of theirs and bowed low in his saddle to Adara. “Take me, my queen, and I will give you your heir. I will gladly lay myself down for your pleasure.” Christian’s nostrils flared in warning. “You lay yourself down for her pleasure, fool, and you won’t be getting back up. Ever.” Lutian went pale as he reined his horse away from them…out of Christian’s direct reach. “Very good, then, my prince.” He shifted his gaze to Adara. “My apologies, my queen, but you’re on your own.” “Lutian,” she cried in feigned outrage. “What about my problem?” Her fool took it good-naturedly. “Well, my lady, ’tis your problem. Sorry. I…um…I intend to live a long and fruitful life.” “Fruitful?” Christian asked with a gimlet stare. Lutian twisted up his face as he contemplated his choice of words. “Did I say fruitful? Methinks I spoke too soon. Suddenly I fear I may be impotent. Truly, I can no longer rise to any occasion. I shall be old and fruitless. My fruit is shriveling even as we speak.” -Lutian, Adara, & Christian

Wakey wakey, Vex. Aren’t you going to answer? It’s your mother, and this is the fourth time she’s called. Would you like me to tell her you’re indisposed?” Hold on a second. It didn’t take long for her bleary mind to grasp Leo was here. In her room. About to talk to her mother at— she squinted at her clock— seven in the morning. Eep. Her eyes shot open, but before she could flail an arm in his direction and demand the phone, he answered. “Meena’s phone. Can I help you?” She moaned, her super hearing meaning she heard her mother’s very polite, “Excuse me, but who are you, and why are you answering my daughter’s phone?” If this were Meena, she’d say something like “I’m a serial killer, and sorry, but your daughter is all tied up right now. Muahahaha.” Of course, the last time she did that, the SWAT team wasn’t impressed, and she wasn’t allowed to hang out with Mary Sue anymore. Trust her Pookie to stick to the truth. “I’m Leo.” “Hello, Leo. How are you today?” Her mother ever Miss Manners. “I am just purrrr-fect. Yourself?” “Um. Er. Would you mind passing the phone to Meena, please?” “I would, but she’s kind of… indisposed.” Did he just smirk at her as he said it? She frowned. He grinned. It was a sexy grin, a mischievous grin, but that still didn’t prepare her for him saying, “How about I get her to call you back once we’ve located her clothes? With my help, I’m sure I can get her dressed in no time. Or not.” How low and husky he said it, his eyes boring into hers, wicked promise within them. Of course, that wicked promise would have to wait, given what he’d just said to her mother! “Are you insane?” she mouthed. “If I’m insane, then it’s totally your fault,” he replied, aloud. Uh-oh. “Peter! I need you now!” Her mother forgot her manners and yelled for Meena’s dad. Not good. So not good. Poor Leo. And she liked him so much. Even if it was only going to be a verbal barrage, she still yanked the covers over her head so she wouldn’t have to witness the carnage as her daddy came on the line. Unfortunately, she could still hear it. “Who the fuck is this, and what are you doing with my daughter?” Daddy didn’t bother with niceties. “Hello, sir, I’m Leo, the omega for the pride harboring your daughter while her spot of trouble blows over. As to what I’m doing with your daughter, I am trying to keep her out of trouble, but not succeeding very well so far. She has a knack it seems for causing disasters.” Familiar laughter boomed. “That’s my baby girl.” At least her father didn’t see the havoc that followed her as a problem. Mother wailed she’d never get married if she didn’t start to act like a proper lady. “As to my presence with your daughter, just keeping an eye on her. We’ve run into a issue with an old beau following her here.” “That Russian prick showed up?” “Indeed. And events have escalated where I fear there is only one thing to do. It’s drastic, but inevitable. ” The click of the door cut off the rest of that conversation. What the hell? She poked her head out, only to note her bedroom was empty. While Meena hid under the covers, Leo had wandered away. Still talking to my father. That couldn’t bode well.

When I got back to the small clearing I was surprised to find a visitor. I recognized the dark hair and short stature before Clove turned around. “Holy crud! You scared me,” Clove said, hopping when she caught sight of me and pressing a hand to the spot over her heart. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up, the garbage bag dangling in the wind. “I promise I wasn’t trying to scare you.” “That’s okay,” Clove said, her face flushed. “I … um … .” Before I realized what was happening she lashed out and slapped my arm. “What was that for?” I asked, taking an involuntary step back and fixing Clove with an incredulous look. “You scared me,” Clove said. “You had it coming.” “You can’t just walk around slapping people,” I said. “That’s mean. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

Clove giggled. “I love Lionel,” she said. “Last year he thought clowns were invading because someone’s tablecloth blew off their clothesline in the middle of a storm and he thought the clown from It was spying on him. He kept ordering people to lay siege to the sewage plant – even though we don’t have one.” “I came out here to see what they were doing,” I said. “One of the kids got mouthy, so I told him I was going to call Chief Terry. For the record, I didn’t. The threat was enough to make the kids scatter, though.” “Without picking up their mess,” Clove surmised. “I get it. I’m sorry for thinking you were partying in the woods. That’s probably worse than hitting you, huh?” “Probably,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “Well, um, I guess I should be going,” Clove said, shifting her feet as she glanced around. “I’m sorry I hit you.