“Can I see it?" He blinked, still scowling, "See what?" "Your scar." His expression darkened like a sudden eclipse and I let my gaze grow cold. "You want to hear me scream? Give it your best shot. But until then, every time you take off your shirt, you may as well be handing out my business card. I shoved my blade deep inside you and loved every single inch of it. When I can't sleep at night, the memory of you screaming like a little bitch is my lullaby. And everybody knows exactly what that scar means- that you got your ass handed to you by a little girl. Again.”

“You soft-skulled, marbel-balled motherf*cker. I´m going to kick your ass next time I see it.” Cam laughed. “You know, my grandmother always said no woman with a decent vocabulary would resort to profanity.” Kori huffed. “My grandmother said, ´Get the hell out of my house, bitch, before I throw you out on your ass.”“Well, you did set the kitchen on fire. Twice. With her in it.”“I fail to see how the facts are relevant here.”

“My pulse whooshed in my ears so fast I could barely hear myself speak. “I only have—”“Two days.” He squeezed my hand. “So what? You can spend them feeling sorry for yourself, or you can let me help make them the best two daysof your life, and my afterlife. So what’s it gonna be?”I stared into his eyes, like I’d never seen him before. And I hadn’t—not like this. But he’d obviously seen me, better than anyone else ever had.“Well?” Tod watched me, his hand still warm in mine.In answer, I leaned forward and kissed him again.”

“I'm not a little girl." And he'd never spoken to me like that. Not ever. "I don't know what your problem is, but unless you pay the rent on my house or wear the black suspenders at the Cinemark, you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“I sobbed again, and this time my father chuckled. "What's so funny?" I demanded, tilting my head when my cheek got his coat wet. "You didn't cry when Kevin Mitchell broke your arm, or when you got stabbed in the hip the last time we were here. But boy troubles are still enough to reduce you to tears.”

“My stomach flip-flopped, and I let his words play over in my head. “So, no costume?”Tod shrugged. “Nah. Don’t get me wrong—it’s hot. But it’s hot in an obvious kind of way. It’s not really you.”I frowned. “Because I’m not obviously sexy?”“Because you are obviously sexy. Some girls may need costumes to make guys want them, but I couldn’t possibly want you morethan I do right now, no matter what you were wearing. Or not wearing.”I stared up at him. “How is it possible that every time you open your mouth, I—” fall more in love with you “—melt a little more?”

“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. And I'm pretty sure that hurts worse than whatever Marc would do to me. Whatever your dad would do. Hell, Faythe, I'm pretty sure that never touching you again would hurt worse than the nastiest death Calvin could think up for me.”