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striking pair of eyes: green-yellow irises bracketed by dark blue circles.
What in the name of Taylor Swift was going on here?
“Wouldn’t you like to be temporarily engaged to a man in finance—who is six foot five, with blue eyes?” I coaxed. She peered behind my shoulder nonchalantly. “Sure. Where is he?” Exasperating. “It’s me.” I stubbed my thumb into my chest. She snorted. “You’re six three on a good day, dude. Besides, I know that song. You don’t work in finance.”
Talk about a humbling experience. Engaging with Dylan Casablancas did so much mental damage I was surprised she wasn’t hired as a torture tool at Guantanamo Bay.
Be a Nicholas Galitzine, not a goddamn…I don’t know, King Joffrey.
You will not blow our cover and won’t tell anyone about that time a balloon got stuck in my braces in eighth grade and everybody thought it was a condom.” She gave me a frustrated look. “Rhyland, it was a condom.” “It was a beige-colored balloon, Dylan.” It was a condom. I’d wanted to see how far I could blow it up before it exploded.
mother is the loneliest existence one can have. Between taking care of her, meeting her needs, working, tidying up, making food, and doing the dishes, I barely have time to think. It’s so exhausting that by the time my head hits the pillow, I’m too tired to dream. And I miss my dreams.
Dylan: Is Grav okay? Rhyland: She is fine. I, however, want to fling myself out the window. She talks constantly. About the dumbest shit. Extorted me twice before noon. Threw three public tantrums. Chased after a dog instead of vice versa. I’m 99.5% sure I got all my cardio for the week running after her. A smile tugged at my lips. Maybe having him as a neighbor wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me. Dylan: Welcome to toddlerhood. Rhyland: Forget welcome. When am I seeing the farewell sign?
“Are you kidding me? Two minutes is a lifetime. Let me kiss you again.” I sounded like I was asking her for a first aid kit to sew my limbs back together. That was the level of desperation we were dealing with. Pathetic, Coltridge. All you needed was one hit to get hooked.
Rhyland: Don’t forget I’ll have to get handsy with your sister tonight bc of Marshall. Row: Not too handsy. She is saving herself for marriage. Rhyland: SHE HAS A KID. Row: She found Jesus.
“He literally cried he was so desperate to date me.” Dylan put a hand to her throat. I was going to kill her. Fuck her first, but then kill her. Kieran choked on his cocktail, pressing his knuckles to his lips. Tate smirked behind his whiskey. Row and Cal looked equal parts amused and confused.
Not that I cared. She could literally shoot me in the femur, and I’d say “thank you.”
This woman was either going to be the death of me or the love of my life. No in-between about it.
“Everyone’s staring,” I commented to Tate, gesturing to Dylan and Cal. Tate redirected his gaze begrudgingly to the dance floor, one arm slung over the headrest of our black leather booth. “Yeah, well, Row’s wife looks like she’s having a fucking seizure.”
“Too bad,” Cal sighed. “My favorite trope is why choose.” “Choose, because otherwise all the candidates will die at my hands.” Row flashed her a polite smile. “Is that a good enough reason?”
Rhyland Coltridge commented: We look so hot together. Dylan_loves_Rhyland4ever commented: It’s only a picture of me?? Rhyland Coltridge: Oh, I’m inside. IYKYK. TheRealAmbroseCasablancas commented: Watch it, Coltridge. Dylan_loves_Rhyland4ever commented: Row? Since when do you have Instagram? TheRealAmbroseCasablancas commented: Since you two ruined my life.
As soon as they were out of our hair, I snatched Gravity out of Dylan’s arms and crushed her into a hug. I needed to feel the sensation of the little stinker’s heart beating against mine to calm myself down before I got behind the wheel. I couldn’t explain it. It felt like she’d somehow become an extension of me and that any harm that met her was inflicted directly on me.
Just let me see Gravity before I leave.” “She’s asleep.” “I know. I need my daily fix of inhaling her hair, and I’ll be on my way.” I was such a fucking red flag I was surprised no bull had assassinated me yet. It sounded so creepy and cheesy.
I was sweating harder than Jeffrey Dahmer in a zombie movie.
I was a sucker for this woman, and I’d have forgiven her for anything, including my own murder.
“You’re not getting inside, Rhyland! How dare you think you can see the bride before the wedding? It’s bad luck.” “Don’t need luck. Got love.” Mama flashed her daughter-in-law a “can you believe this prick?” glare. I doubled over laughing.
