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I didn’t relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn’t relate well to people, period.
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“I don’t see how that is any of your business.” Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.
“I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”
“What if I’m not a superhero? What if I’m the bad guy?”
Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor.
“Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear,” I agreed, nodding.
“I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.”
“This truck is old enough to be your car’s grandfather—have some respect,”
“So what you’re saying is, I’m your brand of heroin?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.”
“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb . . .” he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word. “What a stupid lamb,” I sighed. “What a sick, masochistic lion.”
“Take it easy—my truck is a senior citizen.”
He touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below them.
“Aro, Marcus, Caius,” he said, indicating the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white. “Nighttime patrons of the arts.”
“I kind of like it.” Emmett was thinking about cornering James, no doubt. “Shut up, Emmett.”
“Don’t forget to breathe,” I whispered sarcastically. He took a deep breath, his eyes still closed.
“I’m not coming over anymore if Alice is going to treat me like Guinea Pig Barbie when I do,”
