John Cusack is standing over there.” I followed his incredulous gaze to where a man very like Mr. Cusack did indeed stand, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against a building. I sighed. “That’s not John Cusack. That’s Jerome.” “Seriously?” “Yup. I told you he looked like John Cusack.” “Keyword: looked. That guy doesn’t look like him. That guy is him.
Richelle MeadI loved you and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up. You might as well have staked me.
Richelle MeadHe didn't see me looking at him, but I could tell the ceremony was having the same effect on him. He was enraptured. It was a rare and sweet look for him, reminding me of the tortured artist that lived beneath the sarcasm. I liked that about Adrian—not the tortured part, but the way he could feel so deeply and then transform those emotions into art.
Richelle Mead