As we sit, I notice with a little smile the two dark figures who come to stand behind us – even more inconspicuous than we are. And I’m grateful for them – grateful for my dad for always wanting to keep me safe – even as I know that nothing’s going to happen. That even if anyone did want to hurt us,
Luca looks off into the fire now, his arm heavy around my shoulders, as he confesses what might be his deepest truth. “I’m very afraid, Ariel, that I don’t have any substance at all. That I’m just flash, and that the moment I run out of interesting twists and turns that…everyone will see that I’m ju
“I love it,” I reply, breathy. But then I frown, looking up at him. “You never answered my question, though. Why did you bring me to this?” He smiles down. “Because I intuited you’d love it, little pyromaniac princess.” I burst into laugher, sitting up straight. “What,” he says, grinning at me
I grimace as I slip through the dining room door to dinner, because I am well aware that I am both late and underdressed. But I laugh as I try to quietly press the door shut behind me, because a huge cheer goes up from my gathered family at my arrival, letting me know that I was a complete fool fo
Only twelve times, apparently, much to Rosie and Jesse’s glee. Mom, Dad, Cora and Roger stay in their own tight knit little group tonight, I think reminiscing about old times – one of their favorite hobbies – while grandpa Henry and the rest of the boys sit around the couch, joking and laughing ab
At midnight, we all stand around while I light the fire with great ceremony, and there are a good number of Ooohs and Ahhhs that go around the room – mostly from the kids, but also Jesse – even though it is a small, unremarkable fire – especially after the bonfire I saw this evening. As soon as it
I laugh lightly at his description, and he grins, beginning to slowly stroke my back. “Yeah, she came in about three hours ago,” he says with a sigh, glancing down at her. “She shushed me, and told me not to wake you, and then just…laid down and went to sleep. I…didn’t want her to roll over and ge
My jaw drops open and I huff a disbelieving little laugh. “Jackson, I can’t make flames.” “The flashpoint of wood is far lower than the temperature at which glass melts, Clark,” Jackson replies, raising an eyebrow at me. I narrow my eyes at my mate, not liking this smug new attitude. Or that he’