This girl is magic. She’s wild incantations. She’s that spark that lit me back to life and I’m burning for her.

There is never going to be a good time for us. You can’t force together two objects whose edges are worn in some spots and jagged in others. We’re not puzzle pieces. We’re two people...

I remember the way his eyes pinned my body against the backdrop of Paris as if I was some rare butterfly pinned to an exhibit box.

Skinny-dipping is like Paris. It’s always a good idea.

She throws her jeans at me and dives into the pellucid lake, slicing through the water almost without a splash. A church bell rings out in the distance, echoing in the quiet aftermath of Everly’s...