How old is this girl? Does she know what I’m thinking?
This is why I don’t really fear death anymore. Because whatever is waiting for us after death, it’s already here.
“I’m not that tired. Besides, I’m talking to you.”
“So I’m your shot of caffeine?” she teased. She froze when she realized how flirty that sounded. In fact, the whole conversation had a playful undertone. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
I got a panicky, throat gulp feeling in my chest when I read Evan’s email for the second time. I never specifically mentioned in my email that I went to The University of Texas, but Evan mentioned UT, in his email. It washed away all the good vibes his counseling had created.
I am an introvert. I know this about myself. I enjoy being alone. Moreover — as is true of most introverts, I think — I romanticize the idea of being alone. But being alone for any real length of time is romantic only in theory.
Elias came off like he liked his girls well-dressed, wild, and raven-haired. A week ago, I’d chopped my un-wavy, un-beachy, brown hair down to a pixie cut and transformed into the anti-hookup, asexual, queen of New Jersey. If LA didn’t like it, screw ’em.
His lips collided with hers, silencing the name of the man who threatened to come between them. One hand cupped the back of her head while the other held onto the side of her face. He kissed her like he hated her, hard and fierce. Like at any moment she might disappear before his eyes.
She could get used to all of it—the fancy lingerie, the award-worthy climaxes, the feel of Ryker’s taught skin against her own. It worried her though. Ryker didn’t understand how numbered their days together were.
Of all the horrific internet tales ever told, these are the most terrifying.
I forced myself to think of survival, to hold my hand aloft as I pushed forth the final sprint. I could see blood on the snow, and knew it was mine.