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“Murder was like getting a tattoo. The first one you carefully ask yourself why; each one after you ask yourself why not?”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at the Door

“My name’s Oliver. Though if you want to call me Pretty Eyes Park again, I promise I’ll still come running.”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at the Door

“I know, Dad, okay? I know him. Everything I need to. And I love him. I really love him. Please just...” Cooper reached toward his father. “He makes me happy, remember?”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at Bay

“I played basketball freshman year of high school. Does that count?”
Cooper laughed. “No, not at all. In fact, that’ll probably just set him off on a lecture about follow-through and commitment. Why’d you stop?”
“I got cut. I was terrible.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Park tilted his head. “Why do you look so happy about that?”
“Do I? No.” Cooper tried to school his expression, but Park squinted at him suspiciously, and eventually a grin broke free again. He snagged the front of Park’s shirt and twisted it in his fingers, suddenly unable to resist touching him. “I guess it’s just nice to know you’re not perfect at everything.”
Park seemed to think that over, perhaps looking for hidden digs or sarcasm. Eventually, almost tentatively, he said, “Well, I was really, embarrassingly bad. Can’t dribble for shit.”
Cooper tugged Park still closer and slid his free hand around Park’s waist. “Go on.”
“When my hands are above my head, I’m all thumbs. Can’t catch a thing.”
“Mmm.” Cooper pressed their bodies together and inhaled the curve of Park’s neck to his shoulder.
“I never once made a free throw.”
“Oh baby, the things you say,” Cooper groaned.”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at Bay