Tabitha threw her giant bouquet of baby roses at her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Jack caught the bouquet and dropped it on the ground grinding it under his black dress shoe.
“This is supposed to be a happy day for us. You’re standing there stewing in day-old beer and I’m standing here in my gorgeous dress. You’re supposed to be sober and think I’m beautiful.”
Jack snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Why would I think you look beautiful? You look ridiculous! You shouldn’t be wearing white anyway.”
Tabitha turned away, not wanting her new husband to see her cry. Screw him! She lifted her skirts and stomped out of the vestibule to the waiting limo. Once she got inside, she told the driver to gun it. As the limo squealed away, she glanced out the window and saw Jack standing there, his hands on his hips. She flipped him the bird and stuck out her tongue. She laughed and sat back in her seat. She was going on the honeymoon without him.

“Beautiful Dreamer” By Nathan
—
They were lying on the hill, looking up at the blue sky when she asked the question.

“If you wanted any job in the world, what would you want to be?”

He sighed. He should’ve known that she was going to ask sooner or later…

“I would want to save the world.”

She slapped his stomach. “Come on, be serious.”

“ I am serious. I want to be the one to reverse the greenhouse effect, to be the one who creates sludge-eating bacteria. There’s nothing wrong in that.”

She sat up, looked at him. “But you’re a lit writing major.”

He shrugged. “So? I’d sell a few books, get a financial foundation going, present ideas to researchers, and start the company. It’d turn out okay in the end.” It felt like acid was burning through his stomach while he talked, but it was the truth, no matter how foolish it sounded.

She looked at him for what seemed to be an eternity, and then she chuckled long and low. “You’re a beautiful dreamer,” she told him, pecking him lightly on the mouth. “Beautiful, but just a dreamer.”

Then she got up, walked away, and he never saw her again.

Katheryn smiled, her words blurry. “How can you be the same guy who denigrated the retarded kids?”

“Denigrated?”

“You used to pretend to be buddies then laugh over their heads. It was disgusting.”

Todd shook his head, his gut tight. “I volunteered with special ed.”

Katheryn stared as though his skin had turned striped. “I saw you laughing with your friends lots of times.”

The beer soured as his face heated. “I was fifteen, Kath.”

“Character is across life. Stupid youth is no excuse.”

His temper whipped, to lacerate. “Stupid like changing your name to run from high school? Let’s talk about living life as one long philosophy, Mickey.”

Nostrils flaring, she straightened, her face twisted unattractively. “I knew your mean streak couldn’t hide forever. Pity me for forgetting who you are.”

“Sure. Arrogance is worth pity.” He stood and jerked the nest from the hammock.

“Where are you going?”

“Fishing.”

“Overnight?”

“Yes.” He pulled on the backpack, snatched his pole, net and hat. “You might want to get all the facts before judging someone, Katheryn. My brother is autistic.” He stormed down the path to the beach.

Eye ticks in time with his fingers against the desk. Rain patters neatly outside the window and I am stuck inside with HIM. Him meaning my ex-boy, Andre Harris. Oh yes, that Andre–first-kiss, first-fuck Andre who took my panties in 11th grade and pinned them to his locker. Bite my tongue against saying anything to him as I sort his things from mine.

“Yours.” I say and toss a cd in his general direction.

“It’s not”

“Is to.” I finally look at him. A look of pissy stupidity crosses his face and he picks up the cd with fingertips. Britney Spears Greatest Hits.

“As if I would ever listen to this tripe. It’s yours.” He looks affronted.

“Well it isn’t mine.” I say, teeth grit.

“Oh.” He looks guilty.

“Matilda’s.” Am proud of my icy tone despite the rage boiling inside me.

“Maybe.”

“You brought her here?” Am feeling hysterical. “In my bed?”

A swift cut of his glance to the open bedroom door. “Once. But we’re broken up so what does it matter?”

Rage boils. The empty space on my left ring finger is proof that it matters. Suddenly deflated. “It doesn’t matter. Pack up and leave.”

“But what of my things?” He appears dumbfounded, anxiously grabbing items in his vicinity.

“Get out.” I rise, finger trembling as I point to the door.

“Sweetheart–”

“Leave.”

“Darling–” He yelps, stumbles backwards with my push. “Melanie!”

“Leave, leave, leave!” Voice cracks, not good for icy show I wanted. Finally he takes hint, shooting dark enigmatic look at me before slinking out the door.

Lean against door. Hate myself for wanting him.

The hardback edition of Undead and Uneasy sailed past Cynthia, hitting the wall with a thwack.

“Damn it, woman!” Victor yelled. He pulled the latest Vicki Pettersson novel off the shelf. “What’s it take to make you understand?”

“I’d understand if you were actually making sense,” she hissed. “But paranormal romance does not have to have an HEA!”

“Of course it does, you insufferable wench! Otherwise it’s urban fantasy!” He hurled the book and missed. “Didn’t you read DearAuthor?”

“It’s the tone! Paranormal romance isn’t as dark.”

“It’s the HEA! Plus, urban fantasy has less sex. And shorter scenes.”

“Well,” she sneered, “you’d know all about short sex scenes.”

“You bitch.” He grabbed another book.

She gasped. “No! You’re not throwing my signed Succubus Blues!”

He laughed. The book flew.

“I hate you!” she yelled. “More than Rhage hates celibacy!”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Shut up!”

“In fact…” He came closer. “Even though you’re a bull-headed harlot who doesn’t understand genres, I still want you. Like Rachel wants Ivy.”

“That…that’s so hot…”

Cynthia lowered her gaze demurely as he approached. Just as he reached for her, she rendered him unconscious with Mistral’s Kiss. She smirked.

“HEA that, bitch.”

Phil didn’t shout or rant, he simply turned on his heel, as smoothly quiet as a dancer, and started down the hallway.

“Phil, c’mon!” Bev said, jogging to catch up. “I was going to tell her.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Phil…”

“She’s your sister,” Phil said, his sing-song accent veering off-key. “You e-mail her every day. ‘I’ve bought new shoes, Carol.’ ‘I’ve trimmed my hedges, Carol.’ Would a ‘By the way, Carol, I’m dating an elf’ have been so hard?”

“An Elvish person,” Bev muttered.

“Excuse me?” He felt his ears beginning to twitch, and suppressed that instinct. “Since when have we been PC? I’m an elf, my parents are elves, most of my best friends are elves. Do you ever see me complaining about how unfairly vertically advantaged you are?”

“What?”

“You are a giraffe!” Phil exploded. “In my world, you are a ceiling-denting, chicken-legged giantess! And the only reason you haven’t sent my mother into hysterics is because I told her I was dating a human, because I wasn’t ashamed to be seen with a woman who passes the six-foot mark!”

“Phil!”

“That’s Philiandriel of Alfasgard to you,” he said, brushing past her, “as long as we’re being PC.”

“Bastard!”
He caught her wrist before her palm connected with his stubbled cheek. His big hand squeezed her delicate bones while his finger pressed against the place where her pulse hammered hard beneath her skin.
“You called me a snake the night we met,” he growled.
She shivered at the memory of his wicked white smile by moonlight. She had called him the Prince of Lies and he’d laughed before he kissed her.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you think my scales would change to skin if you spread your legs for me?”
“I thought you loved me.”
His full lips stretched into a cruel smirk. “You’ve read too many fairytales, Rosalind. The beast doesn’t always turn into a prince when the beauty kisses him. Sometimes the beauty grows teeth and claws. Creatures like us do not love.”
“I’m not like you!” She lashed at him with her free hand, faster this time and with more force. Her nails scored a set of bloody scratches along his cheek.
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Your claws are coming along quite nicely, my dear.”
She closed her eyes. He licked his blood from her fingertips.

“It was your idea in the first place.”

“I know, but you broke into my house, when I heard the glass break I grabbed my gun and if I didn’t notice your eyes through the ski mask, I would have killed you.” Eve eyes teared up.

“It was all for the thrills, we promised we’d keep our relationship fresh, I new you wouldn’t shoot me.”

“That wasn’t the kind of fresh I was talking about. It was fun when you dressed up as a cop and brought hand cuffs, but breaking in when you had a key?”

Colin took off the ski mask and pulled Eve into his arms to kiss her. She pushed him away and walked to the other side of the room.

“It’s over Colin, I’m not changing my mind on this. Please leave.”

“I thought you trusted me.” Colin headed for the door.

“I did.”