God, he was so beautiful. It was the tragic kind of beauty too, the kind you knew was doomed from the start. A face that launched a thousand ships and dug a million graves.

Humanity was awful; humanity made you hurt. Humanity was a weakness that would kill everyone, one way or another.

After finding "God hates fags" written in Magic Marker on his locker Roan had cleaned it off and then wrote, also in Magic Marker, "I hate your God

Roan rested his forehead against his and put a hand on his chest. Sweet man, one he didn’tdeserve. “I’m sorry.”“For what?”“The insanity that is my life. Me.”“Hey, I signed up for this ride. I knew from past experience that sexy men were always trouble,and it wasn’t like your reputation didn’t precede you. I have no one to blame but myself.”“You think I’m sexy?”“Don’t fish for compliments.

Strong could be dealt with—but crazy? Oh no. You never knew what the crazy were going to do.

Paris rubbed his forehead against his, running his hands through Roan‘s hair, and said, 'How about we come back here and exchange notes once we‘re done with the interviews? Take a long lunch.''Only exchange notes?''No one said we can‘t exchange notes in bed.

Paris came down the stairs looking incredible. He‘d gone with the simple classic look of the tight white T-shirt, the low-slung jeans that showed off a glimpse of his flat belly, and a black leather jacket. His hair was perfectly mussed, a calculated look that seemed natural and sexy. At the bottom of the staircase, he turned around slowly, holding his arms out to his sides. "Well, how do I look?"Damn. "Like I want to rip your clothes off right this second. You‘re gonna kill that kid. He‘s going to explode, and they‘re going to have to scrape his remains off the wall.""Yeesh, I was with you until you got descriptive.""Can‘t help it. You make me poetic.""I thought I made you horny.""Same damn thing.