More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Artists aren’t team players. Only a true individualist can give birth to something of their own. You need to be both the egg and the sperm to create a masterpiece.”
It’s like the world is his oyster, but he doesn’t do seafood.
“Don’t.” Daria lifts a finger. Her eyes are shining, but her face is stoic. She shakes her head. “Don’t say you didn’t mean it, Melody, because every fiber of you did. And maybe I should be more like Bailey. But you? You should be more of a mom.”
Why? Her thighs would make great ear warmers, I mentally answer back.
“This is what it feels like to hold rage inside. That shit’s toxic for you. You’re either going to have to face your mother, your friends, your principal, your fucking life, or prepare to feel like you’re holding the smoke in your lungs for a very long time. Because, baby, it only gets worse from here on out. The older we get, the deeper the shit we’re swimming in gets.”
Via gazes at him from under her lashes, all doe-eyed and ready to charm his pants off. “And you are?” “Not interested,” he deadpans.
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.
