More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Great, blood on my shoes again. Just fucking perfect.
I kick out a leg like a deranged ballet dancer to fling some off against the stained concrete wall to my right.
Mark the mark. I fucking love when someone's name lines up with their descriptor. Like an asshole CEO named Dick. Or a hairstylist named Bob.
Hi, honey! How was your day? Oh, super, I killed four people for a gang lord and had to bleach a crime scene because one guy was too wiggly, and my knife got stuck in his neck. The blood spray was epic. Want to order pizza? I'm feeling pepperoni.
I'm done. Rogue's amazing. I love her. Can I keep her?
Oooh, I have a nickname already. And you're Buttercup. So basically, we'll be getting married and giving adorable crotch goblins nicknames in no time. I can't wait. :wink emoji:
I glance at the bottom of the cup and see the words printed: You've just been poisoned. It's a joke, right? Right?
"It was a joke, Buttercup." He looks to Noah across the seating area and points a finger accusingly. "He used the one I picked out for you this morning! It was perfect."
He's above the covers next to me while I'm cocooned inside, my hand resting on his pec. That I just fucking caressed. Great.
His voice is a hushed whisper. "Good God, there are two of them."
No one admonished me for my dangerous encounter last night. They only showed concern for my well-being and rallied around me. Is this what a dedicated and loyal team looks like?
Jacob, Noah, Han, Lucas "She's moving in." "Jinx!" "Ah, fuck." "Double jinx!"
Great, we're stuck in a four-way double jinx. And no, you dirty bird, it's not a sex thing.
Well, well, well. Someone else is looking to get punched today.
I type out: It's not a clubhouse. It's a warehouse. You can bunk with me. Wink. "Lucas," Han snorts, eyeing my message from his position next to Rogue. "Typing 'wink' does not have the same effect. You're right in front of her; you could have just actually winked." I wink.
I fall to my knees and prostrate myself across the tiny living room's black rug to show my desperation, and I'm not above begging to make sure my Buttercup is safe.
Lucas is singing songs from The Sound of Music in the lounge area downstairs, gesticulating with his arms wildly while his headphones are plugged in, so it sounds especially dreadful.
The room erupts in laughter as Lucas mumbles to himself about basically having recruited Bat Girl. I hear him mutter, "But how will we raise the children? Oh, sweet Jesus, have mercy."
Han grabs the box of snacks, nearly having his hand bit when he does so. My snacks. Mine.
"Here it is!" Red exclaims. He spins around and holds it out to me with a broad smile, letting me read it. Once in a while, someone amazing comes along. Here I am.
"I did not mean it like that. I just meant it pushes people to do better when there is competition. I don't plan to win you; I plan to woo you."
"Who the fuck messed up pancakes? It's like five ingredients."
After my fabulous-ish breakfast,
Decisions made, we decide on a break before we gather blueprints, the burner, and the cocaine—what a shopping list.
I love this woman. Can she adopt me even though I'm nearly thirty?
Lucas got to pick my alias because I lost a bet last week that he couldn't finish everything Mrs. M brought us to eat. He could. And he did. And I think Ivy is no longer interested in the human garbage disposal.
"What?!" Noah and Han sputter at the same time. "Jinx!" Rogue shouts victoriously, punching her fist into the air.
No! Bad Rogue. No time. I can't hop off one dick and onto another, can I? No, seriously. Can I? Ugh, no.
I'm totally the Buttercup whisperer. I need to make a mug that says that.
Two orphans who've found each other. Alone, together.
"Han, why are your eyebrows dancing?" Lucas asks, with all the tact of... well, Lucas.
It's like I'm being Rick Rolled and can't—or don't want to—escape.
"Even the devil himself does not know where the women sharpen their knives."
"Even if they're people you trust with your life? Noah, the others are your family. Rogue fits into that. I see the way the others care for her. I also see the way you care for her but are way too stubborn to admit. Your eyes give you away, sweetheart."
Murder, Mayhem, and Marshmallows in a font that drips with blood, filled with white hot chocolate.
Her mug today is perfect for her. It reads: Go ahead, underestimate me. That'll be fun. Talk about poignant.
"Have dinner with me if I live through this?" he asks.
