Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

“Tenth circle of hell: you find the love of your life, but the sex is intensely meh.”

What a way to start a new book, definitely captures your attention straight away.

BYO trauma. Tissues are on me.

New therapy catchphrase.

Did you kidnap a middle school dropout and force him to write this at gunpoint?

“I’m not clueless,” I repeat. “You’re not. You just keep your head down. Focus on what you can control, and cut the rest out as much as you can without letting your world collapse. Right?”

I set the phone down just as the drums of “Hot for Teacher” by Van Halen fill the cabin.

I hate it when people are funnier then me, I aspire to have this level of humour.

Their laughter echoes off the walls. It’s just—there’s six of them, and they take up a lot of space, and they’re between me and the ladder, and I’m . . . Low-key terrified.

Yeah girl, I get it. Alone in a room with six men sounds terrifying.

He’s not a bad guy, but he has no idea how he comes across.

He almost smiles. I almost do, too. It’s so easy, slipping under the duvet, burying my face into his neck, savoring his sigh of relief as I settle in his arms. He surrounds me, contains me, presses me into himself, like he needs to hold me as much as I need to be held.

Oh he loves you girl.

I read Mafia erotica

Same girl, same.

I fully planned to make a camgirl-worthy number of sex noises, just to annoy her,

Love me a petty queen.