He's a wallflower.
I hate you.'My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.'I love you,' was all I could say in return.
Charlie?''Uh-huh?''Do you like me?''Uh-huh.''You know what I mean?''Uh-huh.''Are you nervous?''Uh-huh.'
Ah, Evie, she heard him say softly, I must have a heart, after all…because right now it aches like the devil.Only your heart? she asked ingenuously, making him laugh.He lowered her to the bed, his eye...
It is now my favorite book of all time, but then again, I always think that until I read another book.
Annabelle’s eyes stung as she stared at him, while need and inexhaustible tenderness gathered like an ache in her body. I realized something, she said huskily, when I was standing outside the foundry,...
I hate you.'
Maybe she was a wallflower. There was no shame in that. Especially not if one enjoyed being a wallflower.
I just think it's bad when a boy looks at a girl and thinks that the way he sees her is better than she actually is. And I think it's bad when the most honest way a boy can look at a girl is through a...
In spite of her plainness that would have made wallflowers of other women, she radiated a great sense of self-importance.
So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.