Endlessly (Paranormalcy, Book 3)

“Oh, will you two shut up?” Vivian stomped over to us, her white-blond hair whipped up into a bizarre halo around her head and her cotton gown barely staying on. “‘Let me sacrifice myself!’ ‘No, let me sacrifice myself!’ ‘I love you more than the eternities!’ ‘No, I love you more than the eternities!’”

looked from Vivian to Lend for reassurance, but neither of them had any to give. I needed them to be brave for me, to tell me it was going to work out. I’d come so far to get this bright, happy soul of my own, to figure out who I was and how to love and let myself be loved. I didn’t want to give it up, and I needed to know it would be okay.
“Lie to me!” I shouted. “Tell me it’s going to be okay!”

She leaned in and hugged me. “I know. Thanks. I love you, too. And for the record, Cheyenne and Landon are soul mates and if they don’t end up together, I want you to find a poltergeist to haunt the Easton Heights writers.”

“I have no doubt of that. Although I do have one serious concern.”
“Yes?”
“UPARG? It doesn’t roll off the tongue in quite the same way IPCA did.”
Raquel heaved a why must you joke at inappropriate times sigh, then lifted her chin haughtily. “Well, maybe we won’t invite you to be a part of it, then.”

“Okay.” I grabbed Vivian’s hand and pulled her up off the couch. “You get to go hang out with a bunch of weird, seriously screwed up humans.”
“I’ll fit right in, then.”

“Destiny totally sucks.”
“Don’t I know it.”

nodded and waited for her to freak out, to start screaming or crying, bracing myself and getting ready to hug her or carry her back to the village, whatever it took. For a few impossibly long moments she didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and I wondered if the shock had broken her brain. Then her brown eyes locked on mine again, narrowing into slits.
“I’m gonna kill that effing creep.”

We linked hands—my ex-boyfriend, my boyfriend, and my former friend-then-enemy-then-friend and I—and walked through a door to see if maybe empty carbs were good for something after all.

Arianna lounged against the counter, and when I finished first we debated the usage rules of “dude,” “true dat,” and my favorite, “for serious.”
“I kind of wish they’d shut up,” Jack said.
“Dude, true dat,” Lend answered.
Jack nodded solemnly. “For serious.”

Why would the police be here though? Something must be wrong.”
Reth looked exasperated. “When is something ever not wrong in your life?”
I frowned. “That’s my line.”