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delectation
“That’s sweet. Marginally fucked up, but sweet.”
“one percent” of motorcycle clubs that were actually criminal.
“Hey, I’m muscle, not hospitality,”
There was a smell to libraries and bookstores that Thuy always found comforting.
it felt like coming home.
“There’s a great quote by John Waters. He said we need to make books cool again. So if you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them.”
said, with the dumbass silent but heavily implied.
so they could talk over the music
“Now I find you’re suggesting books all over town.” “What can I say? I’m a book hussy,”
just snuggling with her, had been a welcome and unexpected soft place he didn’t know he needed. Or craved.
“Heaven forbid,” Thuy said. “Not a drive-by heart-blessing.”
So right now, she was going to shut that shit down and eat some feelings, dammit. Procrasti-baking!
“Close-minded idiot. And like so many close-minded people, she can’t seem to be close-mouthed along with it.”
“Although it’s usually, you know, Southern rude. All innuendo and passive-aggression.” “Yeah, well, I’m from Oakland,” Thuy muttered. “I believe in aggressive aggression.”
“Even the poorer areas have pockets of beauty and lots of cool things.
His drawl was strong now, she noticed. She wondered if passion amplified it.
Forever might be enough.
It was all over but the shouting — and the details.
Drill’s superpower was loyalty.
They didn’t realize they were buying a dead man drinks at his own wake.
What happened to us makes us who we are.”
