Firefight (The Reckoners, #2)

by Brandon Sanderson

I mixed with ordinary people about the same way that a bucket of paint mixed with a bag of gerbils.

I’d just been the type of guy who spent a lot of time by himself, focused entirely on a single consuming interest.

I’d stayed away from people like her my entire life. I hadn’t wanted attachments, or so I’d told myself. Really, I’d been so focused that I’d kind of weirded everyone out.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I said softly, lowering my hand. “Is that what you told that bouncing bundle of breasts and booty you were dancing with at the party?”

He’s just a man, despite it all. A man full of feelings that, at times, don’t make sense. We’re all like that. We want what we can’t have, even when we have no right to demand it.”

“No,” she said, pulling her jacket tight and doing the buttons, “it’s all right. I mean, I teased you for looking at other women. That implies I want you to look at me instead. So I shouldn’t get mad when you do.”

If there was a universal law regarding mankind, it was that they’d find a way to ferment anything, given time.