kittypebbles

“Music from the party throbs and echoes off the basement walls. I’m not sure how I got here, and I’m certain I don’t know how Charlie ended up on the other side of the room with Guy In Touch With His Emotions. Raising a bottle to my lips, I watch as the guy uncrosses his long legs and recrosses them.
His tampon must be killing him.”
― Victoria Scott, The Liberator

“In front of us, Annabelle and Aspen argue over whether black-and-white movies are amazing or archaic. Blue walks a few feet behind like he’s waiting for the pair to transition from verbal zingers to hair pulling. He wants a front-row seat for that show, and I don’t blame him.”
― Victoria Scott, The Liberator

“Look, cat, you and I are never going to be friends. She’s going to
call you Max, but I’m going to call you Shit Head. And if you think for
one second—” The cat lies down in a tight little ball of nastiness and
falls asleep. “Oh, please. Make yourself at home by sleeping on my
scrotum.” I peek out into the sitting room area that connects to the
four bedrooms, and then glance back at the kitten. Releasing a sigh of
discontent, I pet Shit Head with one finger. He purrs extra hard, and
I find myself wondering if I could train him to do things. Every hero
needs a sidekick, and I’m nothing if not a Grade-A Hero.

- Dante Walker”
― Victoria Scott, The Warrior

“Ready or not! Before I can stop him, Max races toward the bed and dives on top of us. Oh! Oh it feels even better than I imagined. He rolls back and forth across us as Charlie laughs and I wonder why I am friends with such a raging idiot.”
― Victoria Scott, The Liberator