Betting On You Lynn Painter Quotes

When you’re in the room, every single cell in my body – every nerve, every muscle, every breath – is lost in you.

We were both grinning, and for some reason, I felt an invisible string pulling me closer to her as she smiled up to me.

Karma was supposed to be a cat, dammit, not this.

He teased relentlessly and was the funniest person I’d ever met, yet I knew for a fact that he listened to Conan Gray and Gracie Abrams on repeat all the time (I had his Spotify password).

Getting under her skin was my new favourite hobby.

Maybe karma was a girl in glasses.

You are fucking gorgeous when you’re kiss drunk, Mitchell, did you know that?

Maybe but the bottom line is, now that I’ve seen what Bay could be to me, seeing her as just a friend is impossible.

But the thing about relationships was that no one else knew the quiet, tiny moments that belong exclusively to you two. Those were the things that made you hold tight because you were the only one he’d shown that side of himself to. No one else knew.

I wasn’t sure how she knew me so well, how she’d somehow always seen me.

A thousand inside jokes stood between my heart and closure.

You and I, though – we were us.” “Us?” “Magical, comfortable, Colorado us. We were everything together.

Maybe I should give him a taste of the Bailey special.” “Cow tongue on toasted bread.” “No. it’s Moldova but with my hands on his chest.” “Don’t you fucking dare.” “You don’t want me to kiss him.” “Your call on that. But Moldova is mine.

She was twenty things that annoyed me, all rolled into one, but there was something oddly relaxing being around her.

And by "prefer lighter reading," she meant that she read five or six romance novels. A week

He spoke my name as if it were a curse or an exaltation, something that moved him, for better or worse.

A laugh I'd recognize anywhere

I was in the middle of drawing eyeliner tails (harp enough to kill a man, of course)

How can someone be so interesting and irritating, all at the same time?

She was a fascinating contradiction.

It took losing her for me to realize that loving her wasn’t even a risk.

I was never going to get another text from Bay. I was never going to make her forehead crinkle with my words, or hear her laugh in that surprised way she had when she tried and failed to suppress it, never going to hear her quiet intake of breath when she realised we were about to kiss, and never going to hear her sleepily say ‘G’night, Charlie’ on the other end of the phone. A thousand tiny nothing moments that were collectively every fucking thing I’d ever wanted.

I eat it all. I just like to eat the cheese and toppings first, then the crust.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek and-holy shit-looked like she wanted to laugh. "Are you high, Wes Bennett?

The only thing you like about me is my voice?? Bailey: Not what I said. I said it’s my FAVORITE thing, because you’re relaxed and mellow when your voice gets like that. Your edges soften a little. My edges. I wasn’t sure how she knew me so well, how she’d somehow always seen me. I spent most of my time feeling like everyone in my life didn’t get me, yet there was Glasses, seeing right through me.

Y’know, Buxbaum, someday you might see it differently.” I tilted my head, crossed my arms, and said, “I was talking about you, Wes, not kissing in general.” His lips slid up into the dirtiest of smirks. “Oh, I know, Elizabeth.

Wes was looking at her. "You know how I feel about weirdos." "Yeah, well, I don't share your fondness. This one sent me to the back of the boarding line for cutting." "No shit?" He started laughing that contagious Wes Bennett cackle and said, "No wonder you're obsessed. There's just something about a girl who hates your guts." "I'm definitely not obsessed," I corrected him, knowing full well I was still staring at Glasses.

Everyone started yelling out suggestions, and then Charlie said, “ ‘All Too Well.’ The ten-minute version.

But he didn’t just say it. His voice was deep and hot, and he spoke my name as if it were a curse or an exaltation, something that moved him, for better or worse.

A thousand tiny nothing moments that were collectively everything I'd ever wanted.

Because I don’t know if I’d say I’m an expert, but if you ever need any coaching, I’ve got all the tips you’ll ever need. I’m your guy—the guy—for mastering the art of the French kiss.

Wes had always been able to see through everything and just know. My thoughts, my reactions—he never missed a blush or a stammer, and he had the ability to catch any tell that my face might expose.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing?" "What do you mean?" "Are you being a dick about my hair? Because I know you're not complimenting me." "Lizzie," I said, pouring on the tease, even though I fucking loved her new hair. It was shorter and cute as hell, but no way could I give her a genuine compliment. We didn't do that. So I said, "Your hair is the stuff of cheerleader fantasy. Of main character daydreams. Your hair runs so that young gingers' hair can walk." She bit down on the inside of her cheek and-holy shit-looked like she wanted to laugh. "Are you high, Wes Bennett?

Somewhere between Omaha and Colorado I’d fallen truly, madly, fucking ridiculously hard for Bailey Mitchell. She was all I could think about, all the time, and sometimes it felt like I’d do anything—anything—just to make sure she was happy.

Why are your cheeks red?" He was looking at me like I was a silly child, and I kind of wanted to hurt him. "Because I'm sitting in the hot sun, dumbass." "No need for name-calling when I'm trying to help you." "How are you trying to help me, exactly?" "If you're interested in Charlie, I can provide the assist." "No offense, but I will never-in my entire life-want you anywhere near my love life." "Never say never." "Nevernevernevernever and oh, yeah-never." "You wound me, Buxbaum," he said, putting his hand over his heart.

No way did this guy—a minor, like me—disregard the laws of the skies.

She cupped her hands together, dipped them into the creek, then lifted the cold water to her mouth.

God, I wished I were in my room right now, rereading that Emily Henry book.

Although, as I watched him sleep, it occurred to me that he was way more attractive than I'd originally thought. He was my age-we were both freshmen-so I should've noticed, but his personality had somehow distracted me from the length of his eyelashes, the thickness of his dark hair, the prominence of his Adam's apple, and the way he had the tiniest little dimple in his chin. He was, objectively speaking, a very cute guy. "You checking me out, Glasses?" Gah! His eyes remained closed as he said, "Swear to God I can hear you holding your breath. Relax and exhale, kid; it's okay to creep on me." "As if," I growled, irritated that I'd gotten busted, because the last thing on earth I wanted to do was stroke his ego. "I just thought you might be dead." "Worried?" "Hopeful.

She lowered her chin to look at me over her sunglasses. "If I hadn't covered my face in time, I'd probably have a broken nose right now." "I'd stop the bleeding with the shirt off my back if that happened, Lizzie." "Yeah, and I'd probably get a bacterial infection from your filthy jersey. Why don't you just take your little toy and go?" I really was insane, because I fucking loved going back and forth like this with her.

The on-edge feeling ratcheted up to an inching-toward-the-end-of-the-liff level of on-edge as I watched her approach the car. Swear to God I heard Taylor Swift's voice say, "Are you ready for it?" Let the games begin.

Every time you jump the fence, it looks like it's going to topple over. Would it kill you to go through the gate?" "Your dad put a lock on it," I said, "so I can't anymore." "Oh-five, oh-four, two-one," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just put in the number, use the gate like a civilized human, and maybe don't even talk to me when you retrieve your misdirected sports paraphernalia. Zero contact would be cool." "But how could I tell you how much I like your new hair if I didn't speak?

My bad!" Charlie yelled as he jogged over. "I'll get it." I held out a hand. "Don't you fucking dare." "Still with that?" Charlie said, grinning and shaking his head like I was pathetic. I was pathetic. "I just enjoy messing with my neighbor, that's all." "Sure it is." I ignored him and charged over the fence, easily climbing it and dropping right into the Buxbaums' yard. The tree Liz was parked under was on the other side, bordering the other neighbors' fence, and she was facing my direction. The football was in the grass right beside her.

Are you high, Wes Bennett?” "I'll answer that if you answer this: Were you playing Beyoncé on the piano last night?" Her green eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "You heard me?" "The windows were open," I said, shrugging like it was the first time I'd ever heard her, "and I was having a smoke out back. So was it 'Halo'?" "You smoke?" She was looking at me like I was a puzzle, like she couldn't figure me out. "No. Was it?" The crinkle in her forehead grew somehow. "Yes. So ... do you or don't you?" "Like Beyonce? Fucking love her." She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother trying to have a conversation with you?" "Because you're fascinated and want to know more." She snorted. "Because you find me wildly attractive and need some insight into my soul?" "Try again." "Because you want to reconcile the data you've entered into your diary about me with the real-life, actual facts?" "So you are high.

I smiled in the darkness. Goodnight, Lover. Bailey: Good night... Sex God.

I smiled in the darkness. Goodnight, Lover. Bailey: Good night... Sex God.”

They were the friends who allowed me to wallow while also sending me playlists and F1 memes. They were the friends who shared my need to jump wholeheartedly into ctional romances, simply because escaping into the joy of what I have was somehow comforting and hopeful.

Next time I’m being an idiot with a boy, will you please slap me? I will consider it the kindest best friend move, I promise.

Bailey, you are, hands down, the most engaging person I’ve ever known.” My heartbeat skittered in my chest as he spoke the words like he really had fallen for me. “Engaging?” “Wholly.” His eyes burned into mine and he said, “When you’re in the room, every single cell in my body—every nerve, every muscle, every breath—is lost in you.” My knees literally went weak, as in I felt like I was about to collapse.

Charlie: My favorite thing about you is the way you always bite the inside of your cheek when I tease you. I made a noise in my throat and texted: what??? Charlie: For real. It’s like you don’t want me to know I got to you. But Glasses—the minute I see your move, it’s like the gauntlet has been thrown and I can’t stop until you’re smiling at me.

This didn’t happen because we were friends. This happened because as soon as we shared a real moment, you freaked out and disappeared.

said, “He’s not advancing, you psycho. This isn’t a war.” “The hell it isn’t.

My eyes moved up to his shirt, and his chest in that Henley actually was sexy.

When you're in the room, every single cell in my body-every nerve, every muscle, every breath-is lost in you.

Bo Burnham, but rap.

It was like she was stuck between caterpillar and butterfly, and I couldn’t look away.

It took losing her for me to realize that loving her wasn't even a risk.

It was about what had survived the divorce. Our family had imploded, but my mom and I having brownie parties still felt like some descendant of that, some tiny fragment that had survived the crash. Connecting me to the family we used to be.

He was wearing a hoodie that said Mr. Nothing, with baggy shorts, and he didn’t have a single thing in his hands. No carry-on, no book, no coat; what kind of person traveled like that?

It took losing her for me to realize that loving her wasn´t even a risk.

Was this karma for daydreaming about Adorable Family being stranded at the airport? Karma was supposed to be a cat, dammit, not this.

I’m not asking to be the center of his world or anything, but shouldn’t it bother them, never seeing us? Shouldn’t it give them an uncomfortable little pain just under their breastbone, every time they picture our faces?

Honestly—the first time we met, I was in awe of how irritating you were. Like, I don’t think I knew just how obnoxious a person could be before that day.

The group at the dining room table all yelled like their favorite person in the world had just walked in, but he gave them a half smile and lifted a hand in the air as if this was normal. Actually, it seemed like everyone was happy to see him, and not just because of his apparent trivia prowess. Just about each person we passed as we went into the living room smiled and shouted in his direction. As if he were their old buddy back from some short of long trip. I wasn't sure what to make of it. I liked him- wow, I actually did like him- but it was somehow surprising that so many other people did. I would've imagined him being too much of an acquired taste for the general population. Kind of an IYKYK type of guy.

The old adage about it being better to have loved and lost was bullshit, in my opinion, because in no way was it better to have and lose. Having and losing felt like slow, painful torture, and it was killing me.

A thousand of inside jokes stood between my heart and closure.

Every action that was going to happen, every word that was going to be said- all of it would now be attributed to shit happening.

Next time I'm being an idiot with a boy, will you please slap me? I will consider it the kindest best friend move, I promise.

When you’re in the room, every single cell in my body—every nerve, every muscle, every breath—is lost in you.

I love you, Glasses." "I love you, too Mr. Nothing