Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters, #2)

by Kristy Cunning

He narrows his eyes. “If you think she’s deliberately fucking with us, why are you in a hurry to get over there?” I grin. “Because I positively love that in a woman.”

Ah, she’s talking about me. To her father. I knew she secretly liked me. Women these days only tell their fathers about the men they’re seriously considering, after all.

“Maybe monsters should just use Facebook instead of bullying people into weird, suspicious friendships that don’t sound optional,” I mutter petulantly. I swear I hear her snort.

“How much do you watch me?” “What else am I going to do with my time?” he asks me on an exasperated sigh. “Every time I look away, you’re disappearing for days, killing vampires, or shagging Vance in my bedroom.”

“I’m trying to be your dirty, kinky rebound from the boring, drab Van Helsing. I’m not trying to be your gay best friend. My answer is that he’s not worth it, but I am,” he says with a completely serious expression.

He’s like Anna. Once they’re in your life, you just adapt to their creepy ways and start to find the weird charm in them.

Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m really dumb or just too damn stupid to live. Then I remember I can’t die, so option number one it is.

“Do you know those old washing machine agitators that moved the clothes around?” I ask him dryly. “Why the hell are you asking me about washing machines?” “Because that’s what she’s doing right now. Moving like one of those agitators…without the rhythm.” He goes quiet, possibly trying to picture that for himself. “Why?” he finally asks. “I think she’s dancing,” I answer unsurely as she starts flailing her arms and singing along with the music.