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And when the whole story comes out, reality is more shocking than anyone could ever imagine... It’s our first night on the island, and the music is almost too loud for me to think; some European dance-pop thing that shakes the crowded beach club, making the glasses quiver and the blood vibrate in my chest.“Aruba, bitches!Abigail Haas has written two adult novels and four young adult contemporary novels under the name Abby Mc Donald. She grew up in Sussex, England, and studied Politics, Philosophy & Economics at Oxford University. ” Elise raises her shot in a toast, lights splintering off the glass, golden in her hair.“Spring break!The writer has gotten the shape of the story out of the way of the content of the story. The few who read/view for the shape of the story might be left behind. Then the formula becomes Common Knowledge, without ever really existing.Many Something-of-the-week shows express this trope to some extent, which can be both a strength and a weakness of that format. By way of consolation, they are given everything that is not Strictly Formula. She ignores him, turning to me with a wicked smile.“Bottoms up, babe.” Elise grins, but instead of shaking the salt out on her hand, she sprinkles it on my neck, leaning in to lick up along my collarbone before downing the shot. ”She grabs Mel and Chelsea and heads for the dance floor, her hips already moving to the thunder of bass.Tate brings me tight against him, and then it’s the three of us, me and Elise dancing up close to him and spinning away; green strobe lights cutting through the dark.
But when Elise is found brutally murdered, Anna finds herself trapped in a country not her own, fighting against vile and contemptuous accusations.Lamar sprawls on the other side of the booth, the lights hitting blue and deep indigo against his dark skin. Everyone said Yale would get back to me before—”“They will,” I tell him firmly.He peels the label from his beer bottle as Chelsea, who left the dance floor, tries to tempt him out. His blond hair is mussed, so I reach up to push it out of his eyes.I’m not Anna, I’m not me anymore; I’m something beyond, my heart racing as the songs melt into each other, and all that matters is the beat and their bodies, and that bass, pounding on.Breathless, I let my body go, let it move and sway, caught up.