I'm fine." It's a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfecting.

I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Oh, shut up. He is not saying that he's too good-looking to be friends with girls. But then again, yesterday at the beach, there were a high percentage of beach beauties sitting very close to us and/or sauntering repeatedly past. And he never looked up once. I snort. "You poor handsome thing. If only you were ugly, then girls wouldn't have to throw themselves at you all the time. I could break your perfect nose for you, if it'd make your life easier.

Jack might look my age, but he was like a little kid on a sugar high --- in need of a good spanking. --- Good heavens, that sounded creepy.

Do you have any sort of plan?” Jack asked. “Not really.” “Eh, just as well. It’ll be less of a disappointment when you fail.

Many of the male faeries had their shirts unbuttoned and chests bare. (How’s this for freaky: no nipples or belly buttons.)

I’d been fighting for this relationship since the day I first saw his water eyes.