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Quote by Simone Elkeles

“How's that sister of yours?" I ask, changing the subject. "She's waiting to beat you again at checkers." "Is that right? Well, tell her I was goin easy on her. I was tryin' to impress you." "By losing?" I shrug. "It worked, didn't it?" I notice her fidgeting with her dress as if she needs to fix it to impress me. Wanting to ease her anxiety, I slide my fingers down her arm before capturing her hand in mine. "You tell Shelley I'll be back for a rematch," I say. She turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. "Really?" "Absolutely.”

Quote by Simone Elkeles

Work

Perfect Chemistry

This book delves into the lives of two teenagers, showcasing their evolving bond and the challenges they face as they navigate the complexities of high school and personal growth. more

Author

Simone Elkeles
Simone Elkeles

Simone Elkeles is an American author born on April 24, 1970. Her works primarily focus on the lives of teenagers and interpersonal relationships, winning widespread acclaim for her realistic and delicate writing style. more

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“When I spot Alex leaning on his motorcycle waiting for me in the parking lot, my pulse skips a beat. Oh, boy. I'm in trouble. Gone is his ever-present bandanna. Alex's thick black hair rests on his forehead, daring to be swept back. Black pants and a black silk shirt have replaced his jeans and T-shirt. He looks like a young Mexican daredevil. I can't help but smile as I park next to him. "Querida, you look like you've got a secret." I do, I think as I step out of my car. You. "Dios mio. You look ... preciosa." I turn in a circle. "Is this dress okay?" "Come here," he says, pulling me against him. "I don't want to go to the wedding anymore. I'd rather have you all to myself." "No way," I say, running a slow finger along the side of his jaw. "You're a tease.”

“Let's have a bet, then. If I'm right, you kiss me," he says. "And if I'm right?" "Name it." It's like taking candy from a baby. Mr. Macho Guy's ego is about to be taken down a notch, and I'm all too happy to be the one to do it. "If I win you take me and the class project seriously," I tell him. "No teasing me, no making ridiculous comments." "Deal. I'd feel terrible if I didn't tell you I have a photographic memory." "Alex, I'd feel terrible if I didn't tell you I copied the info straight from the book." I look at the research I'd done, then flip open to the corresponding page in my chem book. "Without looking, what does it need to be cooled at?" I ask. Alex is a guy who thrives on challenges. But this time the tough guy is going to lose. He closes his own book and stares at me, his jaw set. "Twenty degrees. And it needs to be dissolved at one hundred degrees, not seventy," he answers confidently. I scan the page, then my notes. Then back at the page again. I can't be wrong. Which page did I- "Oh, yeah. One hundred degrees." I look up at him in complete shock. "You're right." "You gonna kiss me now, or later?" "Right now," I say, which I can tell shocks him because his hands go still. At home, my life is dictated by my mom and dad. At school, it's different. I need to keep it that way, because if I have no control in every aspect of my life I might as well be a mannequin. "Really?" he asks. "Yeah." I take one of his hands in mine. I'd never be this bold if we had an audience, and am thankful for the privacy of the nonfiction titles surrounding us. His breathing slows as I sit up on my knees and lean into him. I'm ignoring the fact that his fingers are long and rough and that I've never actually touched him before. I'm nervous. I shouldn't be, though. I'm the one in control this time. I can feel him restraining himself. He's letting me make the move, which is a good thing. I'm afraid of what this boy would do if he let loose. I place his hand against my cheek so it cups my face and I hear him groan. I want to smile because his reaction proves I have the power. He's unmoving as our eyes meet. Time stops again. Then I turn my head into his hand and kiss the inside of his palm. "There, I kissed you," I say, giving him back his hand and ending the game. Mr. Latino with the big ego got bested by a ditzy, blond bimbo.”

“Do you know,' Cassian drawled to her, 'that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?' Nesta's burning gaze slid to him, still outraged- but hinted with incredulity. He just went on, 'It was Amren's fault, of course, but no one believed me. And no one dared banish her.' She blinked slowly. But the burning, molten gaze became mortal. Or as mortal as one of us could be. Until Lucien breathed, 'What are you?' Cassian didn't seem to dare take his focus off Nesta. But my sister slowly looked at Lucien. 'I made it give something back,' she said with terrifying quiet. The Cauldron. The hairs along my arms rose. Nesta's gaze flicked to the carpet, then to a spot on the wall. 'I wish to go to my room.”

“St. Vincent took in the curious tableau before him . . . the clusters of bewildered onlookers, the affronted ‌innkeeper . . . and the Earl of Westcliff, who stared at him with avid bloodlust. The entire inn fell silent during that chilling moment, so that Westcliff’s quiet snarl was clearly audible. “By God, I’m going to butcher you.”