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It started with a lemonade And ended with my heart This, my pretty reckless rival, is how our screwed-up story starts
Ever notice how the heart is literally caged by the ribs? That’s insane. As if our body knows it can break so easily, it needs to be protected.
“What would you have asked of me if I took the sea glass?” “To save me all your firsts,” he whispers somewhere between my ear and mouth as his body brushes away from mine.
Vicious is Vaughn’s dad and the deadliest mofo in the neighborhood. I crushed on him when I was five. Baron “Vicious” Spencer is still a hottie, so #SorryNotSorry.
“Ever been kissed on a Ferris wheel?” I ask. “No.” All your firsts, baby.
“I thought you said you didn’t want all my firsts.” “My mind changes according to my mood and how hot you look at that moment.” “How very stupid teenage jock of you,” she murmurs against my lips. “How very indeed.”
It was love at first sight Hate at second Lust at third But four is my lucky number So mine your ass shall be
it hard enough for me to know she’s not even a greasy burger. She’s a Pop-Tarts covered in cyanide. I shoulder past her. She follows me into the hallway, and I’m trying to keep my heart rate reasonable, but the heart wants what it wants, and right now, apparently, it wants Pop-Tarts. The hair on my forearms stands on end, and my dick jerks in my pants. It wants a shot of cyanide, too.
Guys are so weird. They can love a girl to death but still mess with other people.
“Should have thought of that before you acted like a brat. Whoever follows us gets punched in the face. Guys. Girls. Wildlife. Don’t fucking care.” He hoists me over one shoulder and carries me out.
He grabs my throat and squeezes, kissing me so hard my lips bruise. I ball my fists and rain them on his chest, ripping his holey shirt farther and dragging my fingernails across his exposed skin.
He pulls back from me, digs in the back pocket of his low-hanging skinny jeans, and takes out a single house key with a blue plastic string tied around it. He throws it into my hands. I catch it. My eyes widen. How did he…? “Stole it from your pompoms.” He looks away, walking to the other side of the room, pacing like a tiger in a cage. This is big. Huge, maybe. He keeps me everywhere he goes.
“Tell me that you don’t,” I whisper. “But I do.” His forehead crumples in anguish. “There’s nothing I want more than every single thing you have to give.”
fear washes over me. “Tell me you still want to be my friend.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “I do. I am. I’ve always been your friend, Skull Eyes. Even four years ago.”
“Stay strong, baby. We’re Followhills. We literally follow hills. Always on top. Show me what you’re made of.” “I’m made of the green goo of the Hulk.” “You’re made of fucking gold, Daria. And soul. So much soul.”
I wish I could rewrite you out of my life But all your pages are highlighted Dog-eared and thumbed to death I can no longer read you But you are still my favorite poem
Penn makes his way to me, jerking me up to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. I drown in him. In his touch. In his body. In his soul.
And while I’m his hobby, he is turning out to be my…everything. My solace. My good part. My favorite thing about life.
He pulls me into a hug. A rarity I know not to take for granted when it comes to Vaughn. I bury my face in his chest and let myself crumple, feeling my bones shaking inside my body.
There is nothing more poetically inspiring Than loving the right person At the wrong place At the wrong time
“Choose her. Don’t choose Daria. You’ll end up giving her less than she deserves. And my daughter deserves everything. Not half of it. Not a quarter. And definitely not messy. Let her go. Unless, of course…”
“Help me?” he croaks, his voice throaty, laced with pain. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend to do it?” “Because she lives two towns over.” “Wrong answer.” “Because I don’t want her help. I want yours.”
“Daddy?” “Yes, the love of my life?” The love of his life. I know he means it. Jaime would die just to put a smile on his mini-me’s face.
I want to be your everything Other than one thing Your past
I love you, Daria Followhill, and I think you love me, too. In fact, I think we fell at the same time. You, like rain, in drizzles, over the weeks. Me, like the fucking sky above my head, all at once, crashing without the faintest chance of stopping.
“That’s the thing about sins. They stack up and blow in your face. You can’t be my shield.” I can be your anything. Fucking try me.
“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.” Why didn’t you tell me we were in love? Why did you wait for me to find out When you broke my heart?
and Penn Scully—bless his broken fucking heart—is in the back seat, looking ruthlessly determined with dead eyes like the rest of us.
“I think I know what’s happening,” Dad murmurs wryly. “And you can be damn proud, Cole.” “And why is that? En-fucking-lighten me, Jaime.” Because Knight refuses to win the game. Penn is trying to kill Las Juntas’ chance to win so he can save me, but Knight doesn’t let him because he knows he deserves it.
Loving you is like Listening to a song For the first time And somehow knowing all the lyrics
They’re about to find out that it is especially vicious when you’re the underdog.
“I’ve loved you in secret, and I’ve loved you openly in front of both our worlds, and if you think I’ll stop loving you if you put an ocean between us, you’re dead wrong.”
“When I found out your daughter left, even though she promised me she wouldn’t, I got a little creative as far as how anger management goes. In other news, you probably need some work done on your garage wall.”
“Yourself,” I say quietly. “You were right, that day you told me you were trying to be mine but I never offered you myself. But now I am. And if you want my everything, you need to give me something. Let’s start with a promise. A real one, this time.”
It needed to be a girl who can become a Scully, like us. But I was five, and dumb, and on pain meds, so what I heard was Skull Eyes.
