More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
his mouth looking like I kind of want to bite it.
Looking at him makes my mouth dry.
"You're a dick, dude." He grins. "Your mom doesn't think so."
Nice guys finish last, I tell myself as I drive home without him.
"Yeah. I'm not an arm though. Better to remember that."
One day, I'll hold a man's hand as we walk down a sidewalk. It won't be in Alabama.
There's something about him. Something that seems almost fragile.
He smiles, crooked, and time trips on its seconds. His sharp-boned face is all bourbon and irreverence.
He’s the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen in real life, and I hate it.
Why make it messy? Why get wires crossed and...lines crossed? Why pretend I’m planning to stay?
I look at my finger again. Think of his hands. His hands at dinner and his hands around my hand. I see his hands wrapping my finger. They're not sharp and hard like mine. Miller's hands are thick, like you could squeeze them. They could squeeze you.
Chicken pox. That makes me smile. Not my best lie.
can't even fucking breathe, as he rolls them, then drags his hand up my erection, pressing with his palm then gripping, his hand wrapped around me, moving slow and firm, back and forth.
He doesn’t give a fuck about you, so don’t give one about him.
Everything started in a bus, didn’t it? Buses ruined my life and then this bus drove me up here where I’m supposed to fix it.
We all know that Ezra is a fucking prick. A stubborn prick. I hope he’s okay.
He gives me a smirk, and it’s gorgeous on his tanned face, with his long-lashed, fuck-me lake eyes moving down my body.
My stepbrother played me like a fucking flute.
I stare at the ball cap, noting that it has a Georgia peach on the back. Is that ball cap gay? It’s so…peachy.
“Never jump,” I whisper. “Never fall.” His lips brush my back. He hugs me tight, wrapping himself around me. “You gotta be careful, Millsy. Don’t come here without me.”
And then he steps in closer, wraps a hand around the back of my head, and kisses me so hard and deep I nearly slide to the ground.
“You should be a porn star, dude. That’s like another appendage and fuck, it tasted so good.”
“Hey, DG,” he whispers. “You’re about to come for me.”
Our dicks look good together.
Kissing him is so much better than I ever knew it would be.
He’s beautiful and so fuck hot it nearly kills me.
Mills should never have to see a doctor. All the pain that people go through—it should skip right over him. I’d take some of it if I could. Fix that karma for us.
Nothing matters but him—being in this moment with him. At least until I can’t anymore.
I'm a fucking stage-three clinger now.
I’ve got him, safe with me. And I don’t ever want to let him go.
I wake up with Ezra wrapped around me like some kind of insane starfish. He’s behind me—he’s spooning me now—with one arm around my shoulders, one hand clutching the waistline of my boxer briefs, and one of his warm legs pushed between mine, like he wants to be sure we’re joined from head to toe.
“Look at me, Ez. Look at my face.” He shuts his eyes. “Tell me this much: Who fucked up before me? Who fucked around with you and made you feel like loving you was hard work?”
When I was sick, you took care of me. If you’re sick, nothing feels good; you’re in pain. And you’re saying I can make you feel better? I’d do that all damn day. All night, too. I’ll suck your dick ten times a day if you want. If I can cure depression for you with a blow job, sign me the fuck up, baby. You got nightmares but I make them better? I’ll be your drug. You think helping you feel good could ever be a burden to me?”
“I love you too,” I murmur. I grab his hand. “I really do. It’s hard to say, though.”
Hi, no one’s held my hand since I was like six. No one’s touched me in a few years except nurses and a lot worse. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
“Right now, all that’s real is you and me. And we’re here together.”
“I want to hold you in the grass,” I whisper. “Just for a little while.”
I’m not a good person. I’m not a good lover—even though I want to love him so good.
“Don’t leave me again.” I nod, and for a second I can’t find my voice. When I do, I sit up, so I can look at him when I promise, “I won’t.”
“You’re good for me.” “I don’t think I do much.” “You do so much,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my leg. He likes to hold onto me.
“My mom sent me somewhere. Last year,” he says softly. “She thought I was gay. She didn’t want that. So, she sent me to…this boarding school.” He blows a breath out. “It…wasn’t a good experience.”
“I love you, Ezra Masters. Just you and nobody else.”
He hugs me hard, and smells me. “I love you.” I see his smile in the moonlight. “I love you too.” I kiss his cheek. “Pretty angel.”
“Just one extra-large dick in my ass.”
“You laid some good pipe,” he says, sounding sleepy, as we walk through his room. “You…received it nicely?”
“So you’re both gay?” She asks it like she’s asking if we’re both secretly lizard people. I’m opening my mouth when Ezra says, “Yeah. You got a problem with
"I can't believe that's how it went down," he laughs. "I know. Seems too good to be true." "But it's not, angel. I promise. It's not."
Dad said he thinks God would be happy about me being gay, and he would want me to be happy, too—not hiding or ashamed.
"Don't let go." "I won't." "Promise?" "Yeah angel. Promise forever," I whisper.
Modern medicine can’t fix everything. But you can, Miller. When I was with you, I barely even feel bad, except nightmares.
