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Falling in love makes you feel immortal. Don’t you want that? No, I thought bitterly. Death doesn’t scare me.
“I think you’ll like this book. It’s about sadness, madness, and dissatisfaction. It’s about us.”
He looked up to the sky, at the vastness of the universe. Shoulder-to-shoulder, we star-hunted for a supernova that would crash and burn.
I feel like your soul and mine are made of the same stuff. The black slug.
“This is not the beginning of something,” Kellan warned. “If anything, it’s the end.”
Then I thought about how much Leah would hate the idea of my dating someone in his thirties. Not that I would ever date Tate.
Everyone in Kellan’s life had failed him. His mother. His father. His half-brother. Me.
A half-moon grin graced his lips. It marked the first time I’d seen him truly smile, and I momentarily lost my breath. He looked so much like mischievous, charming Kellan and yet a completely different entity.
Adolescent love is the greatest pain of all. It teaches you the power other people have to destroy you.
“What’s your drink of choice, Charlie?” “Charlie?” My heart hitchhiked its way up my throat, just about ready to land on the floor with a thud, grow little legs, and run toward him.
A solid plan. She was broken. I was destroyed. This had disaster written all over it.
“Bet you all the pennies in your cheap little purse that I can make you drip cum on my face in less than ten seconds—before I even use my tongue or cock.”
Here’s a life lesson I’d never wanted to learn. Our secrets are nothing but a string of memories we wish to forget.
It’s no big deal. You’ve got this. Famous last words.
Now spread your legs for me, Charlie.”
“I wasn’t concerned about your sex life because you were a patient,” he said casually. “I’m concerned about it because I want to fuck your brains out until you lose the ability to walk straight. Unfortunately for me.”
“I don’t date. I fuck. If you’re happy with that arrangement, you know where to find me. I’m fond of you, Charlie, which is why I’m going to advise you, as a friend, not to take me up on that offer. I’m too old, too jaded, and too fucked-up to give you what you want outside the bedroom.”
Seemed like Kellan Marchetti had three big secrets. Suicidal ideation. Darling Venom. And Charlotte Richards.
The rows upon rows of novels relaxed me. Between the heavy, dark oak and the thick tomes, I felt at home. Warm and safe.
“Now’s a good time to run,” he said in his sad, silky voice, his eyes still hard on mine. “Because if you don’t, I am liable to kiss you.”
I kissed her, and soon, if it were up to me, I would do much more than kiss her.
I realized, with depressing clarity, that she wasn’t the venom at all. She was the antidote. But the quantities were all off.
Suicide is a war of two fears—fear of death and fear of the thing that pushes you toward it. The stronger side always wins. And if you lose, the penalty is death.
Once a year, for a stolen hour, I let myself be the venom. The toxin. The thing that poisoned her. But with one momentary lapse in selfishness, I pushed her away. I’ve regretted it every day since.
For the first time, I saw Kellan. The thing that made him breathe and bleed. Me.
“Pain is growth. Fear is risk. You can’t be happy if you’re not growing and taking risks.”
It’s me and Venom. On the roof. The only people in the world. Us and the stars.
She held her hand out to me. “I couldn’t save your brother, but I will save you, Tate. Even if I have to lose myself in the process.”
he said casually. As if he hadn’t just touched me. Lit a match. Left me to burn.
