Hart Callie

always thought I'd find ultimate happiness within the pages of a book. I've been so convinced of that fact that I've devoted so much of my life to disappearing inside them, searching for that which has always

“Yes, they’re abbreviations, but LOL? BTW? Acronyms. Emojis. Initials. They’re all considered text-speak.”

Fuck her.

Hurt her.

Soothe her.

Ruin her.

I reach him and we’re standing face to face in the confined space, unable to avoid each other’s gaze.

“I’ve got one word for you, Jacobi. Don’t.”

Oh, ho, ho. This is gonna be entertaining. “Don’t be so devastatingly handsome?

My maternal grandmother told me stories about the devil sometimes. She told me that he was the most beautiful of all the angels. That God gave him a countenance that made women sigh and curdled men’s hearts with jealousy. The last time I saw her, at the tender age of eight years old, she warned me, “Elodie, child. Be extra careful of the handsome ones. They’ll trick you with their beauty, but it’s all a façade. Their eyes may peer into your soul, and their mouths may leave you breathless, but beneath their pleasing exterior lies a wickedness bestowed by Saint Nick himself. All good-looking men have been tapped on the shoulder by evil.”

I assumed it was just the ravings of a mad old woman, but looking at Wren now, standing in the rain like he’s out for a stroll on a balmy summer’s day, I’m beginning to think she might have been right.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you utilize a chair correctly. You know you’re supposed to bend in the middle and sit at a ninety-degree angle, yes? Your posture’s atrocious.”

“My posture is directly correlated to my level of interest in my surroundings.”

I just need…

I don’t know what the fuck I need….

Look. I’m horrible in large social gatherings. I don’t know how to talk to people. I’ll only embarrass you, and then you won’t wanna be friends anymore

I’m eighteen different kinds of angry.