The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

by V.E. Schwab

The girl wakes up in someone else’s bed. She lies there, perfectly still, tries to hold time like a breath in her chest; as if she can keep the clock from ticking forward, keep the boy beside her from waking, keep the memory of their night alive through sheer force of will. She knows, of course, that she can’t. Knows that he’ll forget. They always do.

It is just a storm, he tells himself, but he is tired of looking for shelter.