Aleena

“Jon Glass had vaulted over the fence and was now approaching a horse chosen by some sort of weird horse-knowledge method, or possibly because it was shiny.”
― Sarah Rees Brennan, Unmade

“And why is Heather wearing pink? Come on, people."
Heather rolled her eyes and disappeared back inside the tent, reappearing a minute later with a dark gray T-shirt on.
"Better?" She cocked her head at tristan.
"Yes. You've just extended your life by at least an hour.”
― Chelsea Fine, Avow

“I’d really love to explain myself, but honestly, you came up out of nowhere and I haven’t had time to put together a good lie.”
― Chelsea Fine, Avow

“Tristan followed so close behind her she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Again.
“Ten foot rule,” called Nate.
“Bite me!” Tristan hollered back, more hot breath caressing her skin with his words. A wonderful shiver ran through her body. Damn him and his beautiful mouth and hot breath and his leather-smelling shirt. She assumed he was headed to his own room in the basement, but when she walked into the guest bedroom, he followed her inside. She turned around to tell him to leave her alone, but his bright green eyes derailed her words. He was so pretty…
No! No. He was not pretty. He was in danger of dying. Focus on the danger, Scarlet. She glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sleeping with you.”
Was he insane? She lifted a brow. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“I’m concerned. Not mad.”
“Huh. Well either way you’re not sleeping with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
He was insane. “No,” Scarlet repeated. “You’re not. You could die, Tristan. We can’t touch and we certainly can’t…sleep together.” She felt her face flush.
A look of amusement crossed his face. “I meant sleep, Scar.”
“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to wake up next to a corpse, so, like…scram.”
― Chelsea Fine, Avow