Trilina S Pucci

Vicious Little Snakes

Amanda Autumn Berrey

Grey and Donovan. They need to stay on the downlow. Thanks to too many whiskey shots, a smidge of toxic masculinity, and a burnt-down tree.

Welcome back to Hillcrest. Best to buckle up for the ride.

It’s unbearable—the weight of his affection for someone else because it’s something that used to be mine. For a brief apocalyptic moment, I was the only thing in his existence, and then that life died, and I woke up in a world in which he occasionally visits but never stays.

Why do I do this to myself? It’s like emotional cutting. I slice a piece of my heart open and watch myself bleed, but unlike the times I’ve done it to my flesh, my heart never heals. It just shrivels up and dies, more and more.

Even when she said this in book one I was annoyed. She’s blatantly calling herself ignorant

“I only forgive him blindly. Only him. So pay attention to what you say to me.”

He’s always acting this way with me. Like I’m a snack he hasn’t had yet. It’s infuriating and addicting. I hate it, but like the fucking beggar I am, I’ll take it. Just not without disdain for myself.

“I wonder what a begging Caroline would sound like?” “You’ll never know.”

That’s the worst part of unrequited love—knowing you’re the fool and being unable to stop yourself.

“Right. So, do you remember Hunter? Hot lacrosse player at St. Simeon? He basically followed you around that whole party last summer.” A vision of a guy we met at some party in the Hamptons comes to mind, and I nod. “I think so… dark hair, sexy brown eyes, killer body.” “Thank you.” Grey smirks to himself, staring at his phone. “Perfect description of me.” “Crazy small dick energy—” I add. “Definitely not me, then,” he answers again, not looking up.

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