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getting into Indie’s face. “When I finally lay my hands on you—and make no mistakes, Stardust, I will—you will be crying, all right. My name. Over. And. Over. Again.”
“Oh my, your fall will be spectacular,”
“Shouldn’t have said that, darlin’. Challenge accepted, and now you’re in trouble. The kind your innocent arse can’t talk its way out
mansions. Money is also the beginning of the end to art, the kiss of death to creativity, and the cancer to integrity. More on that later. Point is, insecurity is like a snake. It can either suffocate or eat you alive. Your choice, really.
wanted to take her like a drug. All at once, in one gulp. I wanted to overdose on her like cocaine, and heroin, and crack, knowing the destruction I was willingly inhaling into my body. Because Indie, like drugs, was a temporary fix. Once our three months were up, she’d leave my surly arse and run back to what was left of her dysfunctional-yet-loving family.
Because deep down, I knew a bastard like me couldn’t keep her.
you about not wanting me to fuck you raw, you should probably stop looking at me like that. Like you’re already mine,”
And what I see is your truth. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and it bleeds into the real world, which means you’re a remarkably terrible liar.
street. You look at me with dynamite in your eyes, waiting for me to light up the match and finally set you on fire.”
It’s when you memorize the small things in a person
“When I look at you, I see something broken that isn’t worth fixing. And you look at me like I’m a cheap thing to replace the expensive one that’s been stolen from you. See, we’re all vases. And you’re the one scattered on the floor, shattered
beyond repair. So I’ll let someone else pick you up. It’s really that simple. Have fun with your temporary glue.”
“Anything essential is invisible to the eye.” My eyes shot up. I’d recognize those words anywhere. “The Little Prince.”
“You’re such a bastard, calling you one is an insult to every bastard inhabiting this world. We need to invent a new word for what you are.”
“I apologize in advance.” He cocked his head to the side.
“Ruining you for any other man on this planet. I’m going to fuck you,
Indie. So hard you’ll think about me years from now, when you lie under your boring, missionary-loving husband. I will own every orgasm, every shiver, every wave of pleasure inside you. From here on out, i...
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“What do you want from me, Alex?” Everything. I want everything, and then all the things you’ve already given away to other people. I want them back, too.
The most important dance you’ll have in your life is one that does not require music. Alex Winslow, Broken Hearts Blvd
