• Hit List (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #20) Direct Descent

    You kind of sped out of the neighborhood like you were involved in a car chase, she said, softly. Just wanted to make sure…

    When we climb back into her car, we’ve yet to say anything else to each other. A line I have never seen before appeared between Greer’s eyes after her confession, and has yet to smooth away. I sit slouched in the passenger seat, my mouth dry, and a heaviness weighing across my chest. Her car smells like leather and lemons. I breathe it in as we follow the line of cars off the ferry. I remember the pictures I took and scroll through them to distract myself. There is a picture of her surrounded by the pastel sunset. It’s so vibrant. The light catches the top of her exposed shoulder, where there is the hint of a tattoo. It’s beautiful. I post it to Instagram—because it’s probably one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken—hoping Kit sees it. Look what I have of yours. It’s purple!I caption it with Greer’s words. Who wants to hide from the truth? Maybe people who have had too much of it. Or people who have had too little. Or people who are too shallow to appreciate its hard edges. #TRUTH

    A Highland Werewolf Wedding (Heart of the Wolf #11)

    The ride from the Kingston ferry to Port Townsend is about an hour, depending on how fast you’re driving. During that hour, the photo of Greer gets three thousand likes, and my Instagram gets a thousand new follows. I track the likes to two blogs who reposted the picture, crediting me, each blog having over thirty thousand followers. I read through the comments on the photo, blushing at the things they say both about Greer, and the mysterious photographer. Kit is not one of those likes. He liked someone else’s picture a few minutes after I posted the picture of Greer, so I know he saw it.Whoa, Greer says, when she opens her Instagram. That’s a great picture.A fluke, I say. I’ve never taken anything as good as that before.

    Gabe's Alpha (Dark Hollow Wolf Pack #4)

    She puts the car in park outside of the cannery. So, maybe today is the start of great pictures. Make sure your next one is better.I purse my lips. Okay.

    I make to open my door, but Greer grabs my hand and squeezes it.

    I’ve moved on, Helena, she says. You can love someone your whole life and not know why. You can even live with it. This doesn’t change our friendship.I’ll just leave you be then, I said, standing up. Her eyes suddenly softened and she grabbed my hand.

    I’m sorry. Here, she said, lighting up a cigarette and handing it to me. It was thin and long, something I imagined Cruella de Vil smoking. I wanted to tell her I didn’t smoke, but it seemed like a peace offering, and I wanted to hear if she had anything worthwhile to say. She lit up another of her own and placed it between her very red lips. Had she gone out? I hadn’t seen her car leave. She was wearing ripped black jeans and black boots. I suppose if you were the emo type or one of those suicide girls, you’d leave the house looking like that. I took a puff of the cigarette and immediately started coughing. Nasty.I want to be a good friend to you, I said, suddenly. It’s not always easy to talk to your everyday friends about things—they land up judging you and then things get awkward.

    Night World : Dark Angel (Night World #4)

    She looked at me with interest now, so I kept going. But, if you had a neighbor, someone neutral to bounce things off of—or maybe just to vent to—that would be perfect.Her stony face dissolved, and she readjusted the cigarette between my fingers so I was holding it the right way. I took another drag and this time I didn’t cough up a lung. It made me feel lightheaded.

    I love Darius, she said. We chose each other.I waited for her to say more, but when she didn’t, I started fidgeting with my cigarette until I burned my hand. I sucked on my knuckle, wondering if we’d sit here all night in silence, or if I should say something else.

    Is there a but to that statement? I asked, after a while.No, she said. And then, I’m not good at monogamy.

    My heart rate sped up. Was she confessing something to me? Was I supposed to press or just let her speak? I decided to tell her something I heard on the radio.Humans are monogamous creatures. We stray when our happiness is threatened. Happiness is tied to survival. We feel as if we are failing if we aren’t happy, especially when we open any social media panel and see our friends hashtagging all the good things in their lives. It’s all fake. We are all more in limbo than we are happy.

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