How did my parents live before texting? Before the internet? I’m used to knowing things and all of this unknowing is driving me mad.
Here’s the thing about Cricket Bell. You can’t NOT notice him when he walks into a room. The first thing that registers is his height, but it’s quickly followed by recognition of his energy. He moves...
He turns back to me. So did you enjoy the book?'I did. Discomfort lingers between us. Did you?St. Clair considers it for a moment. I like the author's name the best, he finally says, Ba-nah-na.
He sat on one side of a love seat, leaving space to sit beside him. Was it an invitation? Or a gesture of kindness, in that he was offering me the room's larger couch? WHY WAS THIS SO HARD?
He punished the naughty and rewarded the nice. Just like someone else who wore a lot of red. Scramble the letters in S-A-N-T-A and you get S-A-T-A-N.
Hand in hand with the boy who gave me the moon and the stars.
Fairmont wasn’t a place where we’d usually spend the afternoon. It was full of overpriced boutiques, overpriced coffee, and Mossley Academy, which was full of overpriced assholes.
Esto es hogar. Nosotros dos.
Do you like it? she asks. Universal bitch speak for
Cricket removes his hand. I blink at him, and he cautiously offers his arm. I hesitate. And then I take it. And then we're so close that I smell him. I smell him. His scent is clean like a bar of soap...
But what? You love him, he loves you and you're in the most romantic city in the world.
But I hurt you.His voice grows quiet. I wish I hadn't.
Artists are inspired by blank canvases.
Anna: Right. I can only imagine.Etienne: And what, exactly, ist hat supposed to mean?Anna: Forget it.Etienne: No. Let’s not forget it. I’m sick and tired of forgetting it, Anna.Anna: You’re tired of f...
And then this — the moment he calls my name — is the real moment everything changes.He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.He is Étienne. Étienne, like the night we met. He is Ét...
You know what’s the strangest thing about tonight? Tonight, being an astoundingly strange night? What’s that? That you still don’t realize I’m willing to do anything, anything—he gestured in a full ci...
You don't think I'm perfect?No. You're delightfully screwy, and I wouldn't have you any other way.
Yes, St. Claire. I like you. But I can't say it aloud, because he's my friend. And friends don't let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day
Why do I care so much about him, and why do I wish I didn't? How can one person make me so confused all of the time?
Why can't we sit together? What's the point of seat reservations,anyway? The bored woman calls my section next,and I think terrible thoughts about her as she slides my ticket through her machine. At l...