More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
A traitor I’d opened the door to and willingly let into my life. It had taken him mere weeks to slip from the hallway and into my domain. He’d conquered every single inch of me and used it against me, unbeknownst to him. I didn’t see his beauty, his sex appeal, or his dazzling bone structure. I didn’t see the funny, complex, tortured guy I wanted so badly to fix. All I saw was a broken prince with pleading eyes who was on the verge of tears. Man tears. Not angry or exasperated or annoyed. But real and sad and deep.
All broken princes die. Hadn’t he said that? Maybe he was right. The scariest part was that, at that moment, I wanted him to be right.
“If you leave me,” he said, “you take my soul with you.”
“You don’t have a soul. Not for a very long time. You proved it by turning a blind eye all those years ago when you could have saved my mom. You don’t need me. You need you. Time for you to pack a bag and travel the different planets. Find your soul, Alex. You’ll never truly be happy without it.”
The Little Prince was ours. I’d written her a song about him—and she’d twisted it against me. It dawned on me, in a Parisian hotel that looked exactly like all the rest, but also very different, that I’d finally found her. The girl who was worth all these songs I’d written. Then I’d lost her. The girl whose life I’d helped ruin.
“You think this is about Laura?” he screamed into my face. “Are you mental? What’s wrong with you? It’s not about Laura, and it’s not about Fallon. It’s not even about Indie. It’s about you, you arsehole. I’m in love with you.” He shook, spitting the words in my face.
ROSSSSSSS???
“I broke you and Fallon up, not because I liked Will, or her, but because I love you. And loving you comes with the price of completely disregarding my own wishes and needs.
I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to break even more after Indie, but it did. It broke for Lucas. I jerked him into a hug.
“If we were together, would I be top or bottom?”
Once an addict, always an addict. The worst part is that you don’t quite understand the severity of your addiction until it’s already five steps ahead of you, running toward the finish line, ready to ruin your life. I had my gaps between lines and bottles of alcohol, so I tried to convince myself I was still relatively sober, and when I was relatively sober, I called her. All the time.
I do love the rough material for the new album. It bleeds your personality. I can’t wait to share you with the world. Share your soul. You were right. It is your soul, but I told you I’d borrow it. You don’t mind, right?
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes the rose important,” I quoted The Little Prince, word-for-word, because it seemed important, somehow.
“Roses don’t have a blue gene,” I explained. “You can’t get them in that color. Fact. I dyed you some blue ones. It took me hours.”
“See, I spent the time. On the roses. Because I care. About you. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, I deserve a second chance.”
I had one phone conversation with Fallon, and it was to tell her that if she wasn’t going to say anything about what had happened, I sure as fuck would. Consequently, Fallon had come clean and spilled everything to the police. She’d gotten a visit from plain clothed cops in rehab. Will had been there to hold her hand. She’d been given the opportunity to finish the rehabilitation process before being taken into custody. Blake said that legally, I was in the clear. Like I cared. Like I fucking cared.
I wondered if he realized how alike we were. How we loved the same girl—granted, in very different ways—and how the same girl loved us, and wanted to save us, mainly from ourselves.
This was the guy whose sister I was in love with.
I was in love. I’d known it, I’d felt it, but using the exact word at the exact time made everything clearer.
“Because I love her,”
“Because I love your sister and because I deserved to get my arse kicked,”
“You love my sister?” “Probably more than I love sex and The Smiths and my Les Paul Gibson guitar combined.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here sulking like a pussy? Didn’t you Brits write some good-ass, solid love songs back in the day? Get your ass in rehab. Get clean. Find her. Grovel to her. Win her back. And love her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blake’s cheeks pinked. He looked like a child himself in that moment. “Lies kept the tour running, right?”
“Letters from the Liars. That’s what this tour should have been called.”
The Little Prince Chasing Asteroids Under Darker Skies Maybe It’s You Was She Worth It? Perfectly Paranoid Oh, But You Are A Different Kind of Love Seek and Kill Why Now? Fool For You Midnight Blue
“I love you, Indigo Bellamy. My love for you is like a studded leather jacket worn inside out. It digs into my chest, eager to produce blood. And I will do anything for you, not because you’re my muse or my salvation or my best lay, but because you’re inside me, like an organ, like a vital thing I cannot function without. I don’t even want you at this point. I need you. It’s different, and carnal, and completely necessary for my existence. Fact number two.”
In my mind, we were two asteroids orbiting around each other. I thought I was the sun and you were earth, but now I see I got it all mixed up. You were always the sun.
“Fact number four—it doesn’t matter what or who brought us together. But it happened, and we can’t undo it. It’s there, and we can’t go back. When I saw you with a baby this afternoon, the first thing I wanted to do was snatch you both and run away from here with you in tow. Most of all, what scared me was that I wasn’t even remotely disturbed by the idea of having a kid with you. And that says a lot. Shit, Stardust, that says everything. You’re holding my world together in your delicate, freckled hands, and all I ask is for you not to toss it against the wall and break it to pieces.”
His mouth closed in on mine, his lips tracing mine like braille, like he was trying to read the reaction out of me. I sucked in air and opened up for him, and we kissed so slow and so soft I thought I was being drugged into a lull.
Alex Winslow made me lose a part of my heart. But he’d also sewn it back together, in tattered patches, in ugly patches, but it was whole. In its own, imperfect-but-still-working way.
“I love you,” I whimpered into his mouth, tearing our kiss apart to say something important.
“Before she died, my mother told me that in order to know if you’re in love, you need to make a list of all the stupid things you did for that person. I made a list, Alex. ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“Mine. Claimed it.” “Yours.” I licked his stubbled jawline, smiling. “Until the very last note.”
After Fallon finished rehab, she got sentenced to five years of community service, more or less, wrote the Bellamys sincere apology letters, and she is now living with her photographer boyfriend in Georgia and works as a yoga instructor, far away from Hollywood.
WHAT SHE DESERVED TO ROT IN PRISON FOR LIFE WTF
“The second thing that happened was that I wrote an album I don’t deserve the credit for. ‘Midnight Blue’ doesn’t belong to me; it belongs to her. And that leads me to the third thing—I met a girl. I fell in love with her, and she fell in love with me. I took her words and her soul and every single original thought and beautiful lyric she gave me, thinking I didn’t owe anything back. But this girl, she became my muse for a reason, and she busted my balls for being a selfish arsehole. This girl can’t be here today because she’s in the delivery room, giving me yet another gift I don’t deserve.
...more
That’s the thing about broken princes. Not all of them have to die. If their soul is whole, they sometimes survive.
Sometimes, they even grow up to be kings. Mine did.
