5
" Who are you anyway? What are you even doing here?”
“Haven,” she said quietly, peeking at him.
He gazed at her peculiarly. “Heaven? No, this definitely isn't Heaven. But I get why you’re confused, since I'm standing in front of you.” She stared at him, and he
cracked a smile. “I'm kidding. Well, kinda… I have been told I've taken a girl to Heaven a time or two.”
“Haven, not Heaven,” she said, louder than before. Nothing about the conversation made sense to her. “My name’s Haven. "
― J.M. Darhower , Sempre (Sempre, #1)
12
" I’m surprised she hasn’t started cursing yet from hearing me.”
“Oh, but she has,” Vincent said. “I overheard her.”
Carmine turned to Haven. “What did you say?”
She didn’t respond, and he sighed. “Come on, you can say it. Was it fuck? Because I say fuck a lot. Motherfucker? Shit? Asshole?”
“I think that’s plenty,” Vincent said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The word doesn’t matter, but if you insist on knowing, she said ‘damn’.”
"Oh, just damn? Not even goddamn? "
― J.M. Darhower , Sempre (Sempre, #1)
16
" Dr. DeMarco nodded, motioning toward Carmine. “I’m thankful for the Mazda— damn thankful you didn’t return it scratched,” he said, glaring at his father. “I’m thankful to be out of that ridiculous boarding school. Thankful for music and my gun... I fucking love my gun.” Haven looked at him with surprise as Dr. DeMarco laughed. “It’s a nice gun. I checked it out. A 1911 .45 ACP. Where’d you get it?”
Carmine shrugged. “Maybe I don’t recall.” “Fair enough,” Dr. DeMarco said. ”Are you done?” “Uh, I'm thankful for you all, even if you get on my nerves sometimes,” Carmine said. “Oh, and orgasms... definitely thankful for those.” “That’s enough,” Dr. DeMarco said, shaking his head as he turned to her. “What are you thankful for, child?” She hesitated, her nerves running amuck. “Having food to eat. A bed to sleep in, too. "
― J.M. Darhower , Sempre (Sempre, #1)
18
" You’re too good for me.”
He laughed. “Are we talking about the same person? The selfish fucker who curses and yells, blows up cars and beats up people, because he has a temper he can’t control? You know, the one who drinks like a fish and fries his brain with drugs? That person is too good for you?”
She shook her head. “I’m talking about the boy who shared his chocolate bar with me when he probably never shared anything before, who gave me his mama’s favourite book, because he thought I deserved to read. The one who seems to be constantly fixing me up when I get hurt. I’m talking about the boy who treats me like I’m a regular girl, the one who desperately needs his bedroom cleaned and laundry washed but chooses to live in a mess and wear dirty clothes, because he’s too polite to ask the girl he kisses for help.”
“Wow,” Carmine said. “I’d like to meet that motherfucker. "
― J.M. Darhower , Sempre (Sempre, #1)