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You can’t ever count on a man, but you can always count on the poison that will kill him…or whatever that saying is.
In my experience, it’s better when men can’t talk anyway.
“You’re a man, honey. I’m afraid there’s nothing special about any of you.”
“Tell me your name, piccola sirena.”
“See you later, Lover Boy.”
“You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” he says. “That dress on you is fantastic. I just love how you don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“Sometimes family fucks you over.”
“I like the way you say my name.”
I hate that I like the sound of his laugh.
She smells like salt water and a hint of cherry, and I…think I like it?
Turns out Lover Boy looks pretty good when he’s a little unhinged.
Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits.
“I already told you,” he utters. “I see you. Even when you look away.”
“Your view on the world changes when you have to parent your parents.”
“Do you always let the people you love off the hook so easily for treating you like shit?”
Sometimes when you open up old wounds, the weight of them makes you feel you’re sinking in quicksand. The humor is a way to drag yourself back out, to find a little hope when everything around you feels like it’s pushing you down.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful.
I spin the water gun around in my hand and blow on the top like I’m hot shit, because let’s face it, I am.
I try to come across as nonchalant, but I’m sure I’m failing miserably.
Bas sighs, dog-earing the page in his book and closing it, setting it down on the table. “It was.” My eyes widen in horror. “What?” He straightens like he needs to be on guard. “What do you mean ‘what?’ How could you do that?” He rubs at his jaw, his brows drawing down in confusion. “Do what?” “That.” I gesture at the book. “Get a bookmark, good lord. Were you raised in a barn?” “Oh,” he replies, picking the book back up and flipping it open. “You mean this?” He takes another page and slowly, torturously, curls over the top part of the paper.
Oh heck no. Bas is the real villain here.
If there’s one thing a man will do, it’s disappoint you.
She’s a vision.
I’m bound by the Mafia and a woman I’ll never love.
She’s breathtaking.
“See ya later, Lover Boy.”
Because life’s too short to not hold the ones you love close.
There’s nothing like death to make you want to live.
Irritation slithers up my spine and wraps around my middle. I am going to kill her extra hard just for that.
All the men in my life have this nasty habit of jumping in when they don’t need to, and it’s tiring.
