Cami Tapia

“How's your orange juice, Anna? Does it have a touch of lime?”
The glass paused at my lips as I processed his innuendo, and I took a second to make sure my embarrassment stayed hidden inside. I let the drink swish over my tongue a moment before swallowing and answering.
“Actually it's a little sour,” I said, and he laughed.
“That's a shame.” He picked up a green pear from his plate and bit into it, licking juice that dripped down his thumb. My cheeks warmed as I set down my glass.
“Okay, now you're just being crude,” I said.
He grinned with lazy satisfaction.”
― Wendy Higgins, Sweet Evil

“You should go then.” Don’t go. Don’t bloody leave me. Throw your arms around me. I don’t care if you smear my face with paint, Anna. Tell me you love me. Show me you still want me. Torture me at bit more.Oh, God...she was walking away from me.”
― Wendy Higgins, Sweet Evil

“Hey, princess of Popsicles! Queen of curlicue cones.”
― Wendy Higgins, Sweet Evil

“I can't believe I'm about to drink with my father- this is wrong on so many levels.”
― Wendy Higgins