“Gabriel.
This has to be his fault, somehow. I'm going to track him down, pluck out his angel feathers, and stuff a pillow with them.”
“Sii la mia schiava d’amore,” I purr.
Her expression is guarded. “What did you say?”
An amused smile pulls at my lips. “I’ll never tell.” Somehow, I don’t think she’d agree to be my love slave anyway.”
“I walk up right behind Frannie, where she’s sitting near the door, in time to hear her say, “You know what, Tay? Go to Hell,” and I smile, because I think it’s cute that she’s inviting her friends along.”
“But his eyes say what he can’t. I see it, clear as day, even if she doesn’t. He’d give up his wings for her. All she’d have to do is ask.”
“I'm literally too hot to handle.”
“We could work on our English outline," I say and almost can't contain the chuckle.
"Really? That's your idea of a hot date?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware we were on a 'hot date'" And this time I can't contain the chuckle when she cringes. "So, how hot would you like it? I'm capable of all levels of hotness, from Luc-warm to - and I'm being literal here - hotter than Hell.”
“If there's a Hell on Earth, it's high school.”
“I'm a demon, not a pig, so I keep the place relatively neat.”
“I don't believe in love at all, really. But lust ... is alive and well.”
“She’s fiery for sure. I like a little fire. Makes me feel at home.”
“Oh, for the sin of Satan.”
“There’s no crying in baseball and no love in Hell. It’s just the rules. You could say it’s against our religion, more or less.”
“You speak Italian," she says, unconvinced.
"Si."
"Say something."
"Sii la mia schiava d'amore," I purr.
Her expression is guarded. "What did you say?"
An amuse smile pulls at my lips. "I'll never tell." Somehow I don't think she'd agree to be my love slave anyway.”
“And I start to say that I’m not lying now, but I am, so that would be a lie.”
“I try to pretend his shoulder touching mine isn’t causing totally unrelated parts of me to tingle.”
“But I can't see how anybody who drives a '68 Shelby could be all bad.”
“What is it?”
“Well, how it works is you take the box out of my hand and open it,” I say with a grin.”
“Tell me what to do to change your mind.”
“Whoa! I knew you were hot, but Jesus!’ she says, and I wonder why she things He has anything to do with it.”
“She gets to the bottom of the stairs, and I lift her off the ground and kiss her. As I lower her back to her feet she says, ‘Mmm, nice. That’s gonna score you some points with the parents.’ I look into the stands and see her parents standing there, slack-jawed, Dad with a camera perched, forgotten, in his hand. And Grandpa is laughing. ‘So what’s the plan?’ ‘I’m working on it. But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t include molesting me in front of them.”
“There’s no crying in baseball and no love in Hell. It’s just the rules.”
“I elbow him. “You’re such a pig.”
He grins. “I’m not a pig, I’m a guy—which, now that I think about it, is pretty much the same thing. Point taken.”
“I know exactly what to do with him. I've been practicing in my dreams.”
“The Church’s war against women occurred not under Christ—who by all accounts held women as equals to men—but through the writings of St Irenaeus and Tertullian, and that most cruel woman-hater of them all, St Paul, whose hostile views on women were unfortunately included in the Bible. But let me be clear, it is not only a Catholic problem; it is a Christian one: Martin Luther, the scourge of the old Church, shares its views on women. He once wrote: “Girls begin to talk and to stand on their feet sooner than boys because weeds always grow up more quickly than good crops.” Weeds! Weeds!”
“Don't trust the fire, for it will burn you.
Don't trust the ice, for it will freeze you.
Don't trust the water, for it will drown you.
Don't trust the air, for it will choke you.
Don't trust the earth, for it will bury you.
Don't trust the trees, for they will rip you,
rend you, tear you, kill you dead.”
“She looked like a whisper made real.”
“Bir ana bir ömür kadar çok hayat doldurduğunu bilerek yaşamak...”
“You think in the same way men drink, Tea,” my father once said, “far too much—under the delusion it is too little.”
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