📚 From Sunday:
I didn’t know this guy at all. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. All I knew was that Sammy liked his kid, that he kept on talking whether someone was listening or not, and that he had these long, well-manicured, almost graceful hands he moved around a lot when he talked.
Yes, I realize what that sounds like, I might have a small fetish about hands.
📚 The King’s Honour by JL Merrow
📚 The Mistaken Fiancé by Kim Katil
📚 99 Problems by Becky Black
📚 A Pebble in the Water by Lisa Gray
📚 From Sunday:
It was cool. I was going to make out with the hottest straight man in the world. Not a big deal. My cold sweat said otherwise, but we were going to ignore it. If I could tell younger gay me how things were going to turn out, he’d feel a lot better about getting the shit kicked out of him.
📚 From Wednesday:
“Hey,” I released one of his hands and lifted his chin so our eyes connected. “Whatever you need, I’ll support you, okay? You don’t have to deal with any of this alone.” I waited for what felt like a lifetime as the air around us crackled with tension. The slightest of nods from Carter though had me exhaling deeply. I grinned, a big-ass genuine smile. “I’ve got your back.”
📚 From Monday:
Just before he stepped through, Tom stopped and looked Sam right in the eye. “You’re a tenacious little shit. Go after what you want.” He paused, looked at the light again, and then back at Sam. “You say it takes two to tango? Then you need to make him want to dance.”
📚 From Tuesday:
John listened, commenting just often enough to prove he really was paying attention, and honestly, I loved him for that. I mean, I loved him for many reasons, but I loved that though I knew he was bored to tears, he was too fond of her to ever let it show.
📚 From Monday:
Danny frowned at her. “Jeri, how do you know my car hasn’t been moved?”
She grinned. “There’s still a huge splatter of bird shit on your windshield that was there when I left yesterday. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s right where you’d need to look to see out. I know you well enough to know that if you’d left last night, you’d have cleaned it off. That and the drop of grease on your shirt from your lunch yesterday means you’ve been here all night and haven’t changed clothes.”
📚 From Monday:
The French guy agitates my heart with his singing, and Ronan calms it with his kindheartedness. The contrasts are intense, making my skin feel too snug for my body, my chest tight, and my stomach worried. My pulse flutters in my neck, and I worry that Ronan will see it. I don’t know what to do with myself.
So I allow myself to look at Ronan, seeking comfort in his calming presence. I drink in the warmth radiating from him as though he’s the sun and I’m a sagging flower in desperate need of his rays of life.
📚 From Sunday:
As I approach, he brushes off the hood with his hand, revealing his face, and I stutter a breath. Dang, he’s grown up nice. When he’s not hunched over, he’s tall—and inch or two over my own six-feet-one—and muscular and broad all over. His hair is buzzed completely off, his ears sticking out a little too much, and a neatly trimmed beard frames and draws attention to pink, thin lips. His eyes are dark, almost black, and suck me into his gaze.
📚 From Tuesday: They’re rounding the corner for their eighth lap now, and he’s starting to see some flaws in this logic. Straight people, he thinks, probably don’t spend this much time convincing themselves they’re straight.
📚 From Monday:
“You did come,” Reid said when Michael joined him outside the restaurant early Sunday evening. “I figured it was fifty-fifty that you would.”
Michael smiled. “Seventy-thirty on my part that I wouldn’t But then I decided what the hell. It’s a free meal.”
📚 From Wednesday:
“Don’t you like dancing?” He seemed genuinely puzzled, like a straight acquaintance had once reacted upon discovering my lack of interest in women.
I shrugged. “I like watching dancing.”
He must have taken that in, for when we were at the club, several times I had the distinct impression that he was dancing for me. It was when he began to dance in a more teasing, provocative fashion, moving the hips and the pelvis, and orienting himself so that I would get the best view of this. He never gave himself away by looking at me, but I felt he was actually performing for me.
📚 From Monday:
“Wow, you are hairy.”
“I did warn you.”
“I’m not complaining.” Jamie grinned, meeting his eyes. “I like a hairy chest.”
“Luke gave him a half smile. “Wait till you see my back.”
📚 From Sunday:
“Well,” Skarry hesitated. He liked this strange, eccentric wizard who had swept, so suddenly into his life a few weeks ago. He wasn’t sure he should like him. Wasn’t even convinced that ‘like’ was the correct term for it; Mercurio Smith had the same curious appeal as an invitation to delve into a haunted crypt at midnight. Even as a child, Skarry had never been able to resist that kind of invitation. “I am dressed for dinner,” he said, at last. The last thing he wanted to do was offend his new companion. Mercurio liked being offended. He actively sought it out and then immersed himself in it for hours, like a long, hot bath.
📚 From Monday:
Azrah gave a sly smile. “Was it Doctor Who again? Robin met him last night,” she added to Heath.
“Maybe. I didn’t get the chance to have a good look, did I? Thanks to you two.” Robin glared at her. “Anyway, I said he reminded me of Doctor Who. Not that he was Doctor Who. Who doesn’t exist, by the way. And is also a woman right now.”
Heath stared dreamily into the middle distance. “Ah, she’s another strong woman, that one. Knows what she’s doing with a welding torch.”
“Okay, I’m going to have nightmares about your sex life tonight.” Robin took a thoughtful sip of his rum and Coke.
📚 From Sunday – “He does have persuasive eyelashes,” John said into his shoulder. “All soft and long and pretty. Maybe it’s another superpower.”
📚 From Friday:
“It’s Christian Dior, asshat.”
“Asshat?” So, they were throwing down, were they? “Well maybe only put on twenty bucks worth next time.” Stone slipped on his boxers, figuring he’d shower the Christian Dior, hundred and thirty buck rank off once the jerk left. “And let some hair grow back between your legs, why don’t ya? It’s like going down on an eel or a Ken doll.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints at the time.” Joe Hollywood was at the exit. “I, on the other hand, could barely find the tree for the forest. Wouldn’t hurt you to take a machete to the bush once in a while, would it?”
📚 From Friday: His image was startling, and he understood that. Still, every double-take, every sharp breath that occurred as he passed felt like a branding iron to his heart, hurting him and marking him as different.
📚 From Tuesday: The perfect man, what a silly, childish notion. And yet, in the darkest hours of the night when he found it hard to sleep, spending far too much time staring up at the blank ceiling like it might magically produce answers to all of life’s most baffling questions, he ached for something more. Especially as of late, yet what exactly more was, he didn’t have a clue.
📚 From Tuesday: He could allow himself to fade, to wither and die. It would be easy, a couple more days, and he’d be gone, but there were moments worth living for. Moments when the woods were peaceful, when the animals shared their serenity, when the stream was warm and the moss soft under his body.
📚 From Sunday: Jordan nodded, still not looking, and he completely ignored the warmth of Beckett’s fingers as they slid over his. As soon as he could, Jordan took a slight step away. Being so close to Becket was a little unnerving.
📚 From Monday: “Seriously?” asked Lloyd. “Hawtt with a capital ha?” He threw his good arm over Cabot’s shoulder. “Who are you dating, Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”
“It is kind of stupid, isn’t it?” Cabot bumped his head against Lloyd’s. “But goddamn it, man, nobody’s ever called me hot before. Not even with a lower-case ha.”
📚 From Thursday: Was that how happiness worked? Was it a quantifiable thing that could be accumulated? For all Mac’s possessions and accolades, the accomplishments he could point to, the money safely squirreled away in various profitable ventures, he couldn’t say he was happy or that he’d be happier for having more of it. Happy was a sense he got when he was with Hailey—a sort of potential. Like he could be happy with Hailey if only he deserved him.
🍷 [from Tuesday] Miller mimicked taking his photograph. “Clancy Rhodes, cover model.”
“Don’t judge. It’s a travel day.” He ducked his chin and peered over the top of his sunglasses. “How much plaid do you own?”
📚 (From Wednesday) – “What the hell is this shit? Adam poked a finger into the bag. He pulled his arm back a second later as if something had bitten him. “It’s spongy. Why is it spongy?”
📚 From Sunday:
Those colonists never forgot Ancient Earth or the lessons they’d learned from her suffering. Men became less and less a part of the new worlds rising in power and prosperity.
📚 Thursday’s snippet: It had been a long time since Jared had one of those goofy grins that stretched his face, the ones you couldn’t wipe away.
📚 From Wednesday:
He was familiar with the lotions and pastes for everyday hygiene—he used many of them himself—but what on earth was a toilet tissue? He’d quickly gathered its approximate use from a very flustered sales assistant who’d looked back at him like he was a heathen as she scurried away, but why the bewildering array of options?
📚 From Wednesday: He’d slicked his hair back in an attempt to control the curls, and Joe had to ball his hand into a fist to stop from reaching out and mussing them up again.
📚 From Sunday: Nick and Peter shared a glance, their expressions full of amused glee—like twelve-year-old boys who had just heard a fart joke.
📚 Reading The Monuments Men Murders by Josh Lanyon
👻 From Monday: When a third ghost appeared—a bit, burly guy with an intimidatingly bushy beard—and said, “Finally,” like I was the answer to all of his prayers, I broke.