throam quotes.

page 395, volume 1

The second I let my thoughts stray to him, I feel nauseous. It's a sickening burn, and I know that I wasn't quick enough. He found a way in. Got into my bones.

I swear under my breath and lift my ass off the seat slightly, retrieving the flask from my back pocket. I had to steal it back from Spencer behind his back. I keep one hand on the wheel as I unscrew the cork, bringing the mouth to my lips quickly. Vodka pours down my throat effortlessly.

And then I realize there is no solution is escape. It doesn't matter if I'm somewhere that's infested with memories of him or whether I'm on stage at a venue I've never been to. I can't shake it off. The feeling. The memories. And I want to tell him I'm so fucking sorry, but then I don't. I want to tell him to go fuck himself.

He didn't care about the hype. He didn't care that I froze up in interviews or that the only way I could get on stage was for him to whisper reassurances into my ear, fleeting kisses in a bathroom, something, anything for me to hold onto. To stop me from slipping in too deep. He knew all the things I never wanted anyone to know, and he was falling in love with me anyway. Me. Out of all the people in the world. And not that artificial me that the fans adore - that person doesn't even exist - but the actual me, and I don't even know who that is half the time, but he seemed to.

page 395, volume 1