Drop Dead Gorgeous

by Lauren Landish

I’m not sure if investigative work attracts morbid people or if our sense of humor is a coping mechanism. Probably both.

She’s stunning. Even as discombobulated as she is, her creamy skin, coal-black hair, and pale blue eyes all emphasize a face that is truly one of the most perfectly formed faces I’ve ever seen. She’s a model of utter symmetry, that so-called ‘golden ratio’ that I remember reading about in an article once that tried to scientifically ‘explain’ beauty.

Holy shit! Is he trying to out-trivia me? Or trivia-flirting? Flirtriva? It’s like nerd-sexy to the max.

Yeah, he’s good, but he’s also this wholesome version of alpha. And I like it, which is dangerous.

She freezes and looks up to meet my eyes, words tumbling over each other, “No, you don’t understand. I’m not freaking out. I’m turned on. I’m thinking about sniffing your bed pillows like a weirdo, contemplating if it’d be better for you to bend me over the island or the couch, and my ovaries are basically exploding—pew, pew, pew—like fireworks because you’re so good with Chunky that I can imagine you as the one of those dads who’d play tea party with your daughter. And all of that is making me hot and nervous . . . and . . . and . . . I should stop talking now.”

“And for the love of fuck, do not bury me in a bra. The last thing I want to do is spend all my haunting years digging at my underwire.”

Jacob leans over and talks out of the side of his mouth to Blake. “No backsies. She’s yours now.” I flinch, but Blake beams like he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Working on it,” he tells Jacob, but he’s staring at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. The best part is . . . I don’t mean my looks. I feel like Blake sees my insides—my brain and weirdness—and that’s what he thinks is stunning.

Neither of us is perfect, and neither of us is awful. What we are is . . . perfectly matched.

“You’re mine,” I pant, unable to stop my words. “No rule can change that. I’ll break them all, time after time, no matter the consequences. You’re mine, Zoey Walker.”