I’m walking you home. It’s late. And it’s pouring.
The room is full of adult Honeywells talking about the things that Honeywells always talk about, which is to say everything, horses and houses and God and grouting, tanning salons and – of course – theater. Always theater. Honeywells like to talk. When Honeywells have no lines to speak, they improvise. All the world’s a stage.
Outside, there may be reindeer that fly across the moon. Outside, there may be questions with the wrong answers and lies that are better to tell. Outside, it may be cold. But I am here. I am here, and he is here, and everything I need to know is that I will hold him and he will hold me until I am warm again, until I know I belong.
Color me intrigued, Martin.
Put this on your list of things to know: the combination of tinsel, baby angel wings, and manger hay burns like weed at a Miley Cyrus concert.
In Paris, it’s common to acknowledge someone attractive. The French don’t avert their gaze like other cultures do. Haven’t you noticed?
Zeke doesn’t talk,” said Lena. “Why not?” asked Arlo. Lena shrugged. “He never said.” She pointed to the front of the crowd. “Brice is about to start.
Ese beso nos proporciona la fortaleza suficiente para afrontar nuestro futuro.
It’s strange. Home. How I could wish for it for so long, only to come back and find it gone. To be here, in my technical house, and discover that home is now someplace different.
Makani peered over her grandmother’s shoulder and out the large window that looked across their front lawn. She scanned the yards for the boogeyman, the Babadook, Ted Bundy. The street was empty.
Mademoiselle Oliphant. It translates to ‘Point zero of the roads of France.’ In other words, it’s the point from which all other distances in France are measured.” St. Clair clears his throat. “It’s the beginning of everything.” I look back up. He’s smiling. “Welcome to Paris, Anna. I’m glad you’ve come.
Instead, I argue and roll my eyes and act indifferent. And when I touch his arm, I shove it. Because that’s what friends do.
I’ve taken you this far. I can take you that much farther.
North whipped around to stare at her. For a moment, his expression was ureadable. And then... he smiled. It was warm-unexpectedly warm-and it made Marigold feel the teensiest bit calmer.
Cricket weaves easily around the other customers as if we’re the only two people in the store. The music over the.
The distance between us grows with each passing minute. Will he take my arm again, or will I have to take his?
It was the most popular tree-buying destination in Asheville. Lots were everywhere in the mountains of North Carolina – this was Christmas-tree-farm country, after all – so to distinguish themselves, the Drummonds offered friendliness and tradition and atmosphere. And free organic hot apple cider. Asheville loved anything organic. It was that type of town.
Marigold searched between the trees – free organic hot apple cider clutched between her hands, she was not immune to its lure – and strained her ears over the sounds of laughing children and roaring chain saws. Under any other context, this combination would be alarming. Here, it was positively merry. Or it would’ve been, had her stomach not already been churning with horror-movie-like dread.
You know what’s the strangest thing about tonight? Tonight, being an astoundingly strange night?” “What’s that?” “That you still don’t realize I’m willing to do anything, anything” – he gestured in a full circle around them – “to stay in your company. You don’t need to pay me.
I am worried about being in love, because it involves asking so much. I am worried that my life will never fit into his. That I will never know him. That he will never know me. That we get to hear the stories, but never get to hear the full truth.