More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“It’s cute how you think everything is about you.” “It should be, honestly.” “That’s the spirit.”
“You’re a dumbass. Love you.”
some homoerotic frat bro mishap,
He has the personality of a cabbage.”
“I’ll do it. But I won’t have any fun.” “God, I hope not.”
“Sworn enemies forced to make peace to settle tensions between their countries? There’s something totally Shakespearean about it.”
“Shakespearean in that hopefully I’ll get stabbed to death,”
Who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney. Like a dog tax attorney.
This seems . . . excessive, like the kind of paperwork you get from some perverted millionaire who wants to hunt you for sport. He wonders what the most mind-numbingly wholesome public figure on earth could possibly have to hide. He hopes it’s not people-hunting.
he smiles winningly and says through his teeth, “Let’s get it over with.” “I’d rather be waterboarded,” Henry says, smiling back.
His eyes are big and soft and blue, and he desperately needs to be punched in one of them.
“. . . Star Wars fan, are you?”
“Stop telling me what to do! You’re not the prince of me!” “Bloody hell,”
“So, uh,” he tries. “Star Wars?”
“Why are you really here?” “Hmm.” Alex hooks a leg over one armrest of the chair. “I resent the idea I can’t come visit a dear family friend without ulterior motives.” “Bullshit.” He clutches his chest. “You wound me.” “You exhaust me.” “I enchant you.” “I’ll call security.” “Fair enough.”
“I had a magazine with his face on it at my desk, once, because I was in it and he happened to be on the cover.” “You stared at it for an hour.” “Lies,” Alex says. “Slander.”
“You’re thirty-nine.” “My liver is ninety-three.”
No goddamn manners. Like a couple of little opossums.
HRH Prince Dickhead. Poop emoji.
you have a lot of moles, he texts, along with a snap of the spread. is that a result of the inbreeding? Henry’s retort comes two days later by way of a screenshot of a Daily Mail tweet that reads, Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father? The attached message says, But we were ever so careful, dear,
Henry, who can drone on about Lord Byron until you threaten to block his number.
