Kovács Anett

“I saw them,” he said.
I frowned. “Saw what?”
He took a deep breath as he eyed me. “The paintings.”
For a moment, I didn’t get where he was going with this. Not when he traced the curve of my cheek with his thumb and not when a soft smile curved his lips. And then it hit me.
“The paintings?” I swallowed and started to sit up, but he didn’t let me get very far. “The paintings at my place?” When he nodded, I felt my face heat like I was out under the summer sun. “The ones that are . . . ?”
“Of me?” he supplied.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my God. Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Mortified, I didn’t know what to say. “They were in my closet. Why were you in my closet?”
“Looking for a psycho stalker,” he answered.
My eyes popped opened. “That . . . that was like two weeks ago! You saw them back then and didn’t say anything.”
Reece sat up, bringing me with him. Somehow my body ended up between his legs and we were face-to-face. “I didn’t say anything, because I figured you’d respond this way.”
“Of course I’d respond this way! It’s embarrassing. You probably think I’m some kind of freak. A stalker—a creepy stalker who paints pictures of you when you’re not around.”
“I don’t think you’re a stalker, babe.” His voice was dry.
I screwed up my face. “I can’t believe you saw them.”
He chuckled, and my eyes narrowed on him. “Honestly? I really didn’t know how you truly felt about me until I saw them.”
My brows flew up. “I thought you were all-knowing.”
Reece smirked. “I had my suspicions that you were in love with me from the first time you laid eyes
on me.”
“Oh dear baby Jesus in a manger,” I muttered.
“But I don’t think I was a hundred percent until I saw those paintings, especially the one of me in the kitchen. You painted that after . . . after I left.” His brows lowered as he gave a little shake of his head. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I think it’s sweet.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Fall with Me

“God, I hate rogue necromancers," said Magnus. "Why can't they just follow the rules?"
"Probably because the biggest rule is 'no necromancy'?" Emma suggested”
― Cassandra Clare, Lady Midnight

“Really, though, there are only two kinds of weather: hoodie weather and weather where you wear a hoodie anyway.”
― Becky Albertalli, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

“You don't want him," she said to the pink-haired girl. "He has syphilis."

The girl stared. "Syphilis?"

"Five percent of people in America have it," said Ty helpfully.

"I do not have syphilis," Mark said angrily. "There are no sexually transmitted diseases in Faerieland!"

The mundane girls fell instantly silent.”
― Cassandra Clare, Lady Midnight