God, was I going to have another day of painful thoughts jumping me every time I relaxed? The obvious solution—to just not relax—was kind of sucking.

No problem, Goth Boy. First one's free.

Graves: Are you skipping? Off to a good start. Dru Anderson: I don’t want to deal with it today. Graves: Okay. I know a place to go. You shoot pool? I’m Graves. Dru Anderson: I know. Dru. Graves: Dru. You’re new. Couple of weeks, right? Welcome to Foley.

And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.

Richelle Mead delivers sexy action and tongue-in-cheek hellish humor-if damnation is this fun, sign me up!

I'd kind of expected that kids who knew about the Real World wouldn't act like jock dipwads. Guess I was wrong.

Can I…I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don't, I, um, understand. I just—" "Yes." The word bolted out of me. "Yes, please. Maybe I'll be able to sleep if you're here.