“Love changes over time. The edges may dull, the butterflies hibernate… but sometimes, the best things sharpen and flourish as years pass.”
One of the best things about Goodreads is that I have discovered a lot of new authors and new books which made me wonder what kind of rock I’ve been hiding under to have not heard of them before.
Low over High started a bit slow for my taste and I was prepared for the overly used high school drama. But I was in for a good surprise. Marlo or Low is a delight to read about. She’s not a damsel in distress given her unconventional childhood. She doesn’t play the martyr but she’s a believer and an all around strong go getter.
And then she meets Ever. Troubled, angsty broody Ever. It was ire at first sight and the antagonism between the two is palpable. I love how they transitioned from disliking each other to being acquaintances, to being friends and to finding love and peace in each other.
But everything was temporary. Ever’s troubles were bigger than him and what they have. In the process, Marlo had to pay the price. I love how age appropriate their reactions and actions were. Though, I do not agree to a lot of what they did, I feel like given the messy and troubled mind of the youth, their actions can be deemed acceptable.
Also, I felt unsatisfied with a lot of things in this story. I kind of wanted to know more about Charlotte, Delilah and Jeb. I wanted to see more of Low’s dynamics with her mother. I felt like some very important parts of the story were just laid out in passing to focus more on the romance aspect.
The ending was realistic but it was a bit unfulfilling for me. I wanted more! It was not the ending I would like and I hope that the next book will give me (and these two) the conclusion that they deserve.
I fancy myself a purveyor of truth, a sifter of lies, a cutter of bullshit. It’s not a gift, but rather, all skill, honed to a razor’s edge after one too many trips down the rabbit hole.
Some may dismiss my talent as misplaced and misguided cynicism, but they’d be wrong. Cliches about hope and faith in mankind are concocted unicorn farts, an effort to keep the dreamers dreaming. Experiences don’t lie—people do.
While I’m not proud of the circumstances that led me to this way of thinking, I respect the journey. The road to enlightenment can be dark and foreboding, but the destination makes it all worthwhile.
But funny thing about the past—it’s a defiant child refusing to stay in time out. No matter how deeply buried, it can always pop up when least expected, and sink its fucking claws into the flesh of your heart. No, not my heart—I no longer have one. I foolishly gave it away years ago, but I still feel the ripping in my chest as I fist the crumpled note left on my porch.
I’ve avoided this day, ran from it, for the past eight years.
And still we meet again.
But to truly understand … to feel my dread and fear my future as I do, it’s important to know what happened in my past.
My name is Marlo Rivers, and this is my story of corrupted love.