That look on her face, always, like she was surprised to be laughing, like it was something involuntary and slightly shameful, like a sneeze. "Or try to look in my ears again while I'm sleeping -" "Provided you don't blow anything up, of course." Jamie is going through the motions at Sherringford, trying to finish his senior year without incident, with a nice girlfriend he can. It’s been a year since the shocking death of August Moriarty, and Jamie and Charlotte haven’t spoken. "Yes," she said, quickly, like it was more than she had asked for. The hotly anticipated and explosive third book in the New York Times bestselling Charlotte Holmes series. "And then a little more tomorrow, and the next day? If there is a next day?" "Can I forgive you a little now?" I asked. And to have a relationship with a person, you had to treat them like one. How could I understand what had happened, when I had put up so many lenses between my experience of her and the girl herself? This last year, any thought I had of her felt wrong. When that myth I'd made of her shattered, I didn't know what to do. I loved her like you would the person you'd always wanted to be, and in return I would have followed her anywhere, excused any action, fought to keep her hoisted high on her throne. I wanted her to be the other half of me, like we together made a coin. Not long ago, I'd wanted everything from her. "You sound like you're making some kind of decision," I said, because she was scaring me a little. “Holmes," I said, reaching up to touch her hands, to fold them in mine.
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