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10:38 AM - Third period. Kaylee has no class this period. I have no one to kill. Coincidence, or fate?

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Period
Periods
Fate
Kill
Class
Coincidence
Third
Thirds

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Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'? I demanded, my voice little more than a moan. You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language. His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. If I did, would you sign?
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I fell into that kiss like Alice into Wonderland, headfirst and flailing, heart pounding the whole time. The world spun around me and still I fell, and I only crashed down to earth again when someone called my name.
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it isn’t healthy, how wrapped up they are in each other. Relationships like that burn bright, but when they burn out, they leave everyone blistered.
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I could take care of that obstacle for her - I'd tear down anything standing between us - but I couldn't destroy what I couldn't even see.
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His name's Nash. Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. What year is he? I groaned inwardly. Senior. ...here we go ... Her smile was a little too enthusiastic. Well that's wonderful! Of course, what she really meant was Rise from the shadows, social leper, and walk in the bright light of acceptance!
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She wasn't feeling nothing. She was feeling too much. She was blocking it all out. That was a survival skill, and her still-beating heart was proof that it worked.
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I love you, Olivia, he whispered, and my heart ached as if it would break in half. You think we'll die if we stay together, but I've been dying slowly for the last six years. I'm taking my life back, Liv. Our life together. And this time, I'm not going to let you go.
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Have you and Nash both lost your minds? This is really a very simple concept--one that you taught me! Hellion equals evil. Period! -Kaylee to Tod
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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
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It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?
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Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.
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If I love you more than you love me, I’m as good as dead. Yet I can’t make myself take it back. I can’t just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I’m dying inside.
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So could we please not mob the three-thousand-plus-year-old reaper like tweens at a boy-band concert?
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I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want me. So…did you mean it?” “Yes,” I said, and some unnamed tension inside me eased. “I see you, Tod.
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Pain is what I feed from when nothing else will nourish the noxious fury in my heart. It’s what I cling to when everything else—everyone else—slips right between my grasping fingers.
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