He was beyond gorgeous. But Eastlake High was full of pretty people who acted like total freaks. I blame the local water supply. Which was why I drank bottled water.

You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.

What matters is the face you show the world, not the quaking mess behind it.

But my hands are in the right place." "Heart," I corrected. "Your heart's in the right place." "Yeah, but my hands are in an even better place." And so they were.

A field trip. You interested in doing something dangerous, and possibly illegal?" Does it involve underage girls, broken curfews and soorte4d fruit toppings?" I dropped the empty can into the recycling bin and leaned against the kitchen peninsula, grinning like an idiot. "Two of the three. And I could probably scrounge up some strawberry jam, if you're desperate." "I'm never desperate," Tod said, only his voice hadn't come from my phone. I whirled around to see the reaper standing behind me, still holding his cell. "But for the record, I prefer apricot." "Yuck. Nobody likes apricot jam.

It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?

It would be so much easier if there were a secret password, or handshake. Netherworld, open sesame! Yeah, that didn't work, either.