Bff Quotes

She, too, is one of Regin’s friends. They’re poker buddies, sisters of the Wii, and Mari is a vaunted member of the karaoke contingent. Regin has long acted as the witches’ designated driver.” “BFF?” Lachlain asked, brows drawn. “Sisters of the what?” Emma supplied, “Best friend forever and a video game.” Lachlain muttered to Emma, “Your relatives are just no’ right.

Super-secret Ninja Club sounds way cooler than the whole BFF thing.

Friendship is one mind in two bodies." Right. Until your BFF went out of her mind and after your ex-boyfriend's body.

I never thought I'd get to see Rome," Hazel said. "When I was alive, I mean for the first time, Mussolini was in charge. We were at war." "Mussolini?" Leo frowned. "Wasn't he like BFF's with Hitler?" Hazel stared at him like he was an alien. "BFF's?" "Never mind." "I'd love to see the Trevi Fountain," she said. "There's a fountain on every block," Leo grumbled. "Or the Spanish Steps," Hazel said. "Why would you come to Italy to see Spanosh steps?" Leo asked. "That's like going to China for Mexican food, isn't it?" "You're hopeless," Hazel complained. "So I've been told.

You comin’ or what?” Ryker returned. Layne glanced through Merry and Cal, nodded and followed Ryker. It would seem big, scary, badass, looking like a raving lunatic Ryker needed his BFF. Fuck.

sometimes your bff in life is all you got so hold on to the person forever.

Good girl lesson #2: When your BFF sends you a gorgeous guy, you call her and thank her. That's good manners. Good girl lesson #3: Stop scowling. You'll scare away the aforementioned gorgeous guy.

I used to think someone needed to be my best friend before I'd burden her with my problems or my tears. Now I think those interactions--the sobfest or therapy session--are the encounters that earn someone BFF status.

Popular culture has made it okay to yell "I want a man!" from the rooftops, so why are we still embarrassed to say, "I want a best friend"?

Sometimes a b.f.f makes you go W.T.F but without them we'd all be a little less richer in our lives .

I walked stiffly past the worst hussy of them all: my former BFF, who'd apparently decided to move in. Jessica had been at the restaurant every day for over two weeks. Most days more than once. I knew she was hot for my man, but holy cow. Clearly I'd have to say yes to Reyes soon. This was getting ridiculous. he needed a ring on his finger--and fast.

She's my BFF, do you know what that means? It means: Boy I will fuck up your face if you mess with my girl.

Some of the friendships I've found as an adult are far more rewarding than those forged out of the convenience of adolescence.

But on a Sunday morning when I want to grab an omelet over girl talk, I’m at a loss. My Chicago friends are the let’s-get-dinner-on-the-books-a-month-in-advance type. We email, trading dates until we find an open calendar slot amidst our tight schedules of workout classes, volunteer obligations (no false pretenses here, the volunteers are my friends, not me, sadly), work events, concert tickets and other dinners scheduled with other girls. I’m looking for someone to invite to watch The Biggest Loser with me at the last minute or to text “pedicure in half an hour?” on a Saturday morning. To me, that’s what BFFs are.

Heather Awry (The Archers of Avalon, #2) “Okay, if my B-F-F goes rogue and starts trying to chop me into pieces, I fully expect your immortal hotness to protect me, got it?

You're not boring. You're guarded and unusual and a little bit unbalanced, but you're not boring. I'm not BFF with boring people. It would ruin my highly crafted Tumblr brand.

We want you to tell us about vampires." Simon grinned. "What do you want to know? Scariest is Eli in Let the Right One In, cheesiest is late-era Lestat, most underrated is David Bowie in The Hunger. Sexiest is definitely Drusilla, though if you ask a girl, she'll probably say Damon Salvatore or Edward Cullen. But..." he shrugged, "You know girls." Julie's and Beatriz's eyes were wide. "I didn't think you'd know so many!" Beatriz exclaimed. "Are they... are they your friends?" "Oh, sure, Count Dracula and I are like this," Simon said, crossing his fingers to demonstrate. "Also Count Chocula. Oh, and my BFF Count Blintzula. He's a real charmer...." He trailed off as he realized no one else was laughing. In fact, no one seemed to realize he was joking. "They're from TV," he prompted them. "Or, uh, cereal." "What's he talking about?" Julie asked Jon, perfect nose wrinkling up in confusion. "Who cares?" Jon said.

You’re my BFF and I would shred someone’s skin from their body and shove their bones down their dead ass throat for you.

I think I met your friend Charley." "You...did? When?" "When I looked in the mirror this morning." She stood in disbelief for a moment. Then astonishment. Then doubt. Then hope. Then wariness. Aka, the five stages of Cookie.

Okay,” Cooper says agreeably. “But what if you and Nigel fall in love, and Nigel and I become BFFs, and then you guys get married, and Nigel wants me to be the best man, and you and I have to talk about the wedding plans?” “That would never happen, because since Nigel would be so in love with me, he would have dumped you as a BFF as soon as we got engaged and/or told you you were not allowed to be best man at our wedding, per my wishes.” “Yes, but—” “Wait a minute,” I say. “Did you just say ‘BFF’?” “Yes,” he says. He looks at me and shrugs. “I’ve been watching a lot of Disney Channel.

I like this sweater,” I protest. Garrett glances at Allie. “Hi, I’m Garrett. What’s your name again?” “Allie. Hannah’s roommate and BFF.” “Great. Well, can you tell your roomie and BFF that she looks like a reject from a sailing show?” She laughs, and then, to my horror—Benedict Arnold!—she agrees with him. “It wouldn’t

The shower hadn't washed away the hurt, nor had it disguised the tear stains on my face. But I still felt a little better. As better as any vampire could feel after having her BFF drive a stake through her heart.

First off, guys don’t say BFF.

I'm only up when you're not down Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground

We are some people’s friends only when they are with us.

They all get the crazy idea that whoever has the most friends wins. One is enough. Just find that one, irreplaceable someone.

Then there’s the woman in my arms. She’s my future … my whole world … my lover … my wife … my BFF.

Catcher, you're a boy. I've known you for like a week." Two months, actually, but who was counting? "I've known Merit for years. I mean, the sex is great and all, but she's my BFF." - Mallory

The evening makes me think Facebook is a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helps us keep track of people with whom we otherwise would have fallen out of touch. But sometimes relationships fade for a reason. They're better left a memory.

Friendship is not something that you seek but something that finds you.

Oh, I see how it is. Baby finds her Johnny Castle, and all of a sudden, she forgets about the small matter of her BFF?” There was only one person in the world who could deliver that line with a straight face. Until I’d heard his voice, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed it. “Devon!” Chase stiffened as Dev’s name left my lips, and Devon beamed at me, doing a good impression of someone who hadn’t been bristling a moment before, when I’d buried myself in Chase’s arms. “In the flesh,” Devon said. “When you call, Bronwyn, I answer. Always.” It was a testament to the gravity of the moment that he didn’t treat everyone present to an impromptu performance of “Ain’t No Mountain.” Lest Devon decide the situation did call for some tunes, I pushed on.

I’m nervous about Beau Maxwell’s reaction to me and Dean showing up together, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Beau doesn’t even blink when Dean introduces me as “G’s GF’s BFF”. Maybe all the letters Dean threw out confused him? Either way, he just seems thrilled that we came out to the club at all.

Ad we interviewing each other? Something like that. What position am I applying for? Best friend. I thought I already had the job. Don't be so sure, you arrogant son of a bitch.

Is there a word for the friendship version of cock-blocking? There should be.

People are always doing that in movies, staring out of windows to signify their hardships. I've tried a few times, but it was pretty boring.

Will you guys by okay?" I asked granny and BFF. "Oh, hell yeah. We're gonna play Twister and then try on wigs and girdles," Granny informed us.

That’s what BFF’s do, Gina.” “I love you, Ty.” “I love you too, Gina.

I’m your BFF. BFFs are for bragging.

Dear Tully-- I know you won't be able to stand my fucking funeral. You're not the star. I hope you at least had the photos of me airbrushed. There are so many things I should say to you, but in our lifetime we've said them all. Take care of Johnny and the kids for me, okay? Teach the boys how to be gentlemen and Marah how to be strong. When they're ready, give them my journal and tell them about me when they ask. The truth, too. I want them to know it all. It's going to be hard on you, now. That's one of the things I regret the most. So, here's what I have to say in my beyond-the-grave letter (very dramatic, don't you think?): I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me. There will always be a TullyandKate. BFF <3 Kate

As we get older that prominence that a best friend holds can fall away—adult women are more likely to be asked if they have a boyfriend than a best friend and to wear an engagement ring instead of a BFF charm. Because of this, it can be frustrating for some women to get across how fundamental their attachment to their best friend

But you have Aurelia. She’s, like, your ride or die. I don’t have a lifelong BFF like that.” “You will. One day you’ll wake up and find that there’s a woman, or maybe a few, who have outlasted every changing season in your life.

I hate him,” she answered instantly and seriously. “He’s quinoa to me.” Harper detested quinoa. Like, more than she hated most things. “I love you.

I like having plans. I like keeping them. Even if said plan is to spend an uninterrupted hour watching Friday Night Lights. If I pass the day excited about solo time on the couch with a glass of wine, pad thai, and Tim Riggins, it's hard to shift gears and muster up enthusiasm for an invitation when it comes my way.

In school, failure is a bad thing. Marked by a bloody F and a parental beatdown, failure is admonished. Fail and you’re grounded! No TV, no iPad! Is it any shock that straight-A students make great employees while the C-students are the guys hiring them? The A-students do as they’re told, follow rules unquestioningly and stay within the lines. Meanwhile, C-student and future billionaire Johnny is a ninth grader’s newest BFF—he’s underneath the bleachers selling his older brother’s Playboys at twenty-five dollars a pop.

I think the waiters and hostess are beginning to recognize me. They must either think I'm the most popular girl in Chicago or a lesbian seriously looking for The One. Either option is far less embarrassing than the truth: 'I'm here auditioning best friends forever!

The characters populating male fantasies have little in common with those inhabiting female fantasies. In porn, the mind of a woman is usually empty of all thought and feeling – except for an overwhelming urge to have sex with plumbers, pizza boys, and her BFF. Women’s hopes and fears are irrelevant. Their skills are inconsequential, except for the admirable ability to satisfy multiple lovers simultaneously and an impressive capacity for moaning. Their bodies, on the other hand, are depicted in lavish, graphic detail. The heroes of romance novels often seem like members of a more evolved species. They are natural leaders, rich, powerful, and well-connected. Their minds are intelligent and savvy, though they are reticent about their abilities and hide their inner demons. Despite the fact that they are a five-star general or lord of southern England, they hide a troubled and tempestuous soul that can only be healed by the magical balm of a woman’s love.

Because while we all Facebook stalk, protocol is to not admit it. I might know, from status update, that a potential best friend swims laps every mornings, but it'd be creep to say "Don't worry about eating that doughnut, you deserve it after all those calories you burn!" Instead, I check out her profile and she reviews mine, but then we meet and pretend to know nothing.

Whether I like to admit it or not, anxiety has become my best friend. It's a crutch that helps me hobble through life. It's the brassy bitch at school that I don't like, but being her BFF makes me popular. Or the school bully that I don't really want to be around, but being his friend means I don't get beat up. I don't know how to be safe without it.

Even quilters have cliques! I can't stop picturing Regina George, fifty years later, instructing her minions that 'On Wednesdays, we wear pink.

Friendship Truth #6: Everyone makes mistakes.

Hey, Connor! Sorry I must have butt-dialed you. So, do you want to tell me how it felt being on my ass?” she laughed. Ellery Black's BFF and her jokes.

when Easton texts it to me (Are you hooking up with him? Good to know I have to find out about my BFF’s life from Vanity Fair!!!),

I’m sarcastic and facetious. It’s hard to find those people on first encounter. I can be nice, but I don’t want nice friends. I want funny, gregarious, sarcastic, and smart friends.

If you’re not liking the people around you, it’s up to you to change your surroundings and find new people. And keep an open mind, because you never know who will become your next BFF.

Callie: I don't have a lifelong BFF like that. Abuela: You will. One day you'll wake up and find that there's a woman, or maybe a few, who have outlasted every changing season in your life.

BFF, bestie, buddy—there are many ways to describe friends. But what really makes a “good” or “close” friend? And why do some friendships feel like a cozy robe, while others feel like a scary movie?

Though I have started emailing with one of my fellow readers whenever there's something important to say about Modern Family or Friday Night Lights, and with another when I notice her updates on Goodreads.com.

Bri, you started your time at Canterwood with a giant lie. But you came to Canterwood to get a fresh start, just like me, and I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me the truth. It was a major breach of BFF code.

Big emotions—like anger, fear, and sadness—can be really uncomfortable. But even uncomfortable feelings are okay. In fact, all emotions are okay. It just takes practice to manage uncomfortable emotions so you can respond in a healthy way.

Being the only stranger at dinner with a group of girls who are already close friends doesn't sound appealing at all. I'll have to pretend to laugh at stories I don't get about people I don't know. I'll probably stuff my face just to have something to do while they all gab about their ninth-grade English teacher or some other inside joke that makes me feel like an outsider. It's hard to know how to behave in those situations. You can jump right in, asking "Who?" and "Where was this?" or you can sit back and let them have their laughs. I almost always opt for the latter, sometimes to my detriment. What I think is letting them have their fun, they might takes as she-thinks-she's-too-cool.

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me chatting on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a list to man kind making your gender look bad aka octravious Shelton we are over

When I get back to my dorm room, there it is, staring at me from above my bed. The Vladimir Putin calendar. Ha! I guess Katerina got a copy of it for me after my drunken rant at the secret supper club about how I had to ironically have one. This is a girl after my own heart. You have to see this calendar. July: Vladimir Putin fly-fishing topless. March: Vladimir Putin smelling a flower. November: Vladimir Putin holding a puppy. I'm not kidding. Holding a puppy! I laugh to myself. Katerina sure has my number. Maybe she will be my BFF even after I go back to the States.

With some people there is easy conversation and not enough time in one meal to get out everything you want to tell her--all the things you didn't know you'd been holding in until you're suddenly confessing to Facebook-stalking ex-boyfriends and how nerdy you are for coveting the iPad--and with others there is that subtle but heavy weight of constantly trying to think of what you might say next to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

The familiar (if loud) churn of the engine made it hard to talk, especially with the windows open (the air-conditioning didn’t work), but the day was warm and they blasted the music and sang along. Nessa loved singing at full volume. She couldn’t carry a tune, but with Bree it didn’t matter.

You have to believe that people will be open to your advances. We psych ourselves out of approaching a potential BFF or emailing a role model because it seems far-fetched that they'd want to be friends or network with us in return. But, as has always been the case this year, people are happy to make new connections.

Friendships have different phases and change over time. All we can really control is ourselves. Be the type of friend you want to have!

Friendship Truth #3: Friendships have different phases and change over time.

Friendship Truth #9: You choose which of your friendships to grow. Grow the healthy ones!

I'M NOT HERE FOR YOU. I'M HERE FOR MYSELF.

father shredding the side of my car like a block of cheese with his Lamborghini.

anything but eat grass and be cute! I’m never drinking again! Not even root beer!

but you were driving like a maniac and hit my car.

Chapter

Navigating conflict is not easy. If you decide to speak with the person you are in conflict with, find a private time and place to talk. Be sure not to involve others in the conflict. Practice what you plan to say so you are calm and confident. Your goal is to speak your truth, take responsibility for your part, and treat others with dignity. This is no easy task, but an important skill to practice over time.

If you’ve struggled in a friendship, you’re not alone. Most girls find that, sometimes, friendship feels like a roller coaster. One moment you’re climbing through fun and laughter; the next, you’re plunging into fear or frustration.

Everyone has certain qualities that they are drawn to in friends. Keep an eye out for friends that have the qualities you find important in friendship. And, of course, being a good friend is the best way to attract and keep friends too.

It's about changing the way I think. Which sounds so simple, but whether I like to admit it or not, anxiety has become my best friend. It's a crutch that helps me hobble through life. It's the brassy bitch at school that I don't like, but being her BFF makes me popular. Or the school bully that I don't really want to be around, but being his friend means I don't get beat up. I don't know how to be safe without it. We're buddies. It's like they say: keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

That’s when I decide that prom is stupid. It’s just a dumb dance that might have meant something to the old me, but the new me doesn’t really give a flying frick. And that’s when Mark Baker, whom I now refer to as Galen’s BFF because of their testosterone-enhanced run-in last year, walks up to me. “You got your dress picked out for prom? Let me guess. It’s violet, to match your eyes.” I raise a brow at him. Since Galen has been gone, Mark has been awfully attentive. Not that Mark isn’t nice, and not that if it were a year ago, I’d be a babbling idiot if he took the time out of being godlike to ask what I planned on wearing for prom. But like everything else, Mark is so one year ago. And I don’t know if I like that. I shrug. “I’m probably not going.” Mark is not good at hiding surprise. “You mean Galen won’t allow you to-“ “Knock it off. I know you think Galen is controlling or whatever, but you’re wrong. And anyways, I can hold my own. If I wanted to go to prom, you can bet your sweet Aspercreme I’d be going.” Mark holds up his hands in surrender. “Simmer down, skillet. I was just asking a polite question. Did you want to talk about starving children or government conspiracy instead?” I laugh. I’d forgotten how easygoing Mark is. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood I guess.” “You think?” I punch his arm, then feel guilty about how flirty it looks. “Well, nobody’s perfect.” The bell rings and he starts walking backward, away from me. “But some people who shall remain nameless are pretty close to it.” He winks, then faces the other direction.

PROLOGUE   Zoey “Wow, Z, this is a seriously awesome turnout. There are more humans here than fleas on an old dog!” Stevie Rae shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked around at the newly lit-up campus. Dallas was a total jerk, but we all admitted that the twinkling lights he’d wrapped around the trunks and limbs of the old oaks gave the entire campus a magickal, fairy-like glow. “That is one of your more disgusting bumpkin analogies,” Aphrodite said. “Though it’s accurate. Especially since there are a bunch of city politicians here. Total parasites.” “Try to be nice,” I said. “Or at least try to be quiet.” “Does that mean your daddy, the mayor, is here?” Stevie Rae’s already gawking eyes got even wider. “I suppose it does. I caught a glimpse of Cruella De Vil, a.k.a. She Who Bore Me, not long ago.” Aphrodite paused and her brows went up. “We should probably keep an eye on the Street Cats kittens. I saw some cute little black and white ones with especially fluffy fur.” Stevie Rae sucked air. “Ohmygoodness, your mamma wouldn’t really make a kitten fur coat, would she?” “Faster than you can say Bubba’s drinkin’ and drivin’ again,” Aphrodite mimicked Stevie Rae’s Okie twang. “Stevie Rae—she’s kidding. Tell her the truth,” I nudged Aphrodite. “Fine. She doesn’t skin kittens. Or puppies. Just baby seals and democrats.” Stevie Rae’s brow furrowed. “See, everything is fine. Plus, Damien’s at the Street Cats booth, and you know he’d never let one little kitten whisker be hurt—let alone a whole coat,” I assured my BFF, refusing to let Aphrodite mess up our good mood. “Actually, everything is more than fine. Check out what we managed to pull off in a little over a week.” I sighed in relief at the success of our event and let my gaze wander around the packed school grounds. Stevie Rae, Shaylin, Shaunee, Aphrodite, and I were manning the bake sale booth (while Stevie Rae’s mom and a bunch of her PTA friends moved through the crowd with samples of the chocolate chip cookies we were selling, like, zillions of). From our position near Nyx’s statue, we had a great view of the whole campus. I could see a long line at Grandma’s lavender booth. That made me smile. Not far from Grandma, Thanatos had set up a job application area, and there were a bunch of humans filling out paperwork there. In the center of the grounds there were two huge silver and white tents draped with more of Dallas’s twinkling lights. In one tent Stark and Darius and the Sons of Erebus Warriors were demonstrating weaponry. I watched as Stark was showing a young boy how to hold a bow. Stark’s gaze lifted from the kid and met mine. We shared a quick, intimate smile

There is something about picking up a book you've never seen before, reading the blurb on its back cover and knowing that you could possibly enter a whole new fascinating world if you took that book home. And in a bookshop or library, this possibility feels infinite.

The top of the Friendship Pyramid, Close Friends, is small and may only include one or two friends. That’s because close friends are harder to find, and these friendships usually take longer to develop. Don’t worry if you haven’t found any close friends yet; many girls may not have any until middle school or even later.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

Every day since TUB (The Ultimate Betrayal) had been a disaster. He had English with Anika, who never failed to shoot him a forced smile. Then chemistry with Mason, where they were lab partners. Gael refused to talk to either of them. In the past week, he’d barely exchanged words with anyone. Things were even awkward with Danny. Even though he was Gael’s best friend besides Mason, the dude was gaga for Jenna, and Jenna had long been Anika’s BFF. As such, this had become the unspoken rule among them: Jenna was Team Anika, Danny was Team Jenna, and by the transitive property, Danny couldn’t be on Gael’s side. Gael hadn’t ever thought to make friends outside of their little group. He hadn’t hedged his bets, if you will. He’d put all his eggs in one basket. And those eggs had decided to hook up with each other behind his back.

Friendship intimacy calls for whoever is on the receiving end of the information to offer "hefty helpings of emotional expressiveness and unconditional support." Yet, as Karbo points out, they can't be too opinionated. So if I'm enraged that Matt canceled our Friday night plans, again, she better huff and puff and agree it was lame of him, but she would never say "He's such an ass, I've never liked him." Such are the unwritten rules of friendship.

The app is designed for reciprocity. You swipe right on the people you’re interested in but if they don’t swipe back, poof, you’ll never get a chance to talk. And apparently, the woman who lunches in Paris and regrets nothing doesn’t want to talk to me. Which is fine. That’s her right. Whatever. I’m fine. (I hope she regrets it.) When you have a match, there’s a ding (such a rush) and the app encourages you to send a message to ‘your future BFF’. Crucially, after you’ve matched, you only have twenty four hours to message each other before your potential friendship expires. And if they don’t reply to your message within twenty-four hours, they disappear for ever. There are so many areas for rejection with this app. A woman named Elizabeth appears. Her bio reads: ‘I’m into cooking, trying new restaurants, trash TV, theatre, reading, travelling, and exploring. Love a girls’ night in as much as a night out. Lived in New York for a few years. Looking for friends to explore the city with or maybe start or join a feminist book club.’ Yes! Yes, Elizabeth, yes! I send her a message about how I’d be up for her feminist book club and trying new restaurants. Safe. Solid. Not groundbreaking, but friendly enough. Elizabeth doesn’t reply. ‘Elizabeth, don’t do this to us!’ I yell at her photo. I watch the time dwindle away. And then, before we have even begun, our time is up. Her profile photo fades to grey, like she’s dead. Which she is. To me.

In there, the music was slightly less deafening, so Cara didn’t have to yell when she said, “Holy crap, are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I thought you were dancing alone and then I turned around and they had their dirty paws all over you and—” “Cara.” Meg grabbed her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Cara, I’m good. They asked to dance. I said yes. It’s good.” “They…” If anything, Cara’s eyes went wider. “Oh shit, I am the worst wingwoman in the history of wingwomen. You were getting busy, weren’t you? Look at you, you’re all flushed.” She laughed and leaned against the counter. “God, I thought you were freaked out and couldn’t escape and that’s why you looked like that. But it was lust.” She gave Meg a playful smack. “Get it, girl!

Two starving kids and tree-hugging vegetarians. I’m going to kill Chase.” Phoebe didn’t blame him. Despite her lack of experience in the cattle-drive department, even she could see the potential for trouble. Then a familiar figure standing beside the driver caught her attention, and she waved. Maya grinned and waved back. “It’s Maya,” Phoebe said. Zane turned and followed her gaze. “Just perfect,” he muttered as his ex-stepsister walked toward them. “You’re looking grim, Zane,” Maya said cheerfully when she joined them. “Who died?” She smiled. “Oh, I forgot. You’re just being your usual charming self.” She squeezed his arm. “You’ve missed me, I know.” Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Like foot fungus.” She laughed and turned to Phoebe. “You’re still alive. I see Zane didn’t bore you to death.” “Not even close.” Phoebe hugged her friend. Maya waved forward the bus driver, a pretty woman in her fifties. “Phoebe, this is Elaine Mitchell.” “You’re the one Maya worked for in high school?” Phoebe asked. “I am.” Maya put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. “And this is my BFF, Phoebe.” “Welcome to Fool’s Gold,” Elaine said with a smile. Instead of her usual suit and high heels, Maya wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and boots. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid. “You look like a local,” Phoebe said. “Speaking of locals,” Maya began, a note of warning in her voice. “Oh, shit,” Zane said before she could continue. Phoebe looked toward the bus and immediately saw why Zane’s face had gone a little ashen. The two crazy old women who had cornered her at his truck in town had just gotten off the bus. Eddie and Gladys, if she remembered right. The skinny one was wearing stiff, dark blue jeans and a plaid Western shirt with pearly snaps along the front. The plump one, who still looked as if she had asked for one of everything at the cosmetic counter, was wearing jeans, too, and leather chaps with fringe along the sides. They both had cowboy hats perched atop their white curls. Besides her Zane muttered under his breath. She caught a handful of words. Something about being old, broken bones and a reference to hanging Chase from the lightning rod in the middle of a storm.

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me chatting on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a list to man kind making your gender look bad aka i dont have to say who u are u know u are OVER

It isn’t every day a girl gets to go looking for the Temple of Doom with her BFF and her vampire boyfriend.

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me cheating on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a lier to man kind making your gender look bad aka i dont have to say who u are u know u are OVER

By the end of the interview, George and I had clicked....I mean, we weren't BFF's spray-painting hearts and our initials on freeway underpasses or anything. But we seemed to understand each other.

All Sophie ever wanted was a way out. Only a few weeks ago, she was a quiet art student with an overbearing mother and no higher dream than starting university and reuniting with her BFF, but destiny intervenes in the form of a fox bite.

Go on vacation. You're turning into an itchB!

cooking with mud was rolling around in it until only our eyes weren’t caked with brown sludge. I loved him on our hour-long bike rides when we played Would You Rather until we had to pull off to the side of the road because we were laughing so hard. I loved him through high school when he was the obsession of almost every girl at our school, but he always put me first. I loved him when he became my first boyfriend and showed me what it felt like to be cherished. I loved him over our long-distance relationship when receiving his text messages would make my day. And I love him now as he gets ready to commit his life to another woman. I will love him forever, and no amount of time or varying circumstances are going to change that. Jax is my best friend. He will always hold the other half of my heart in the figurative BFF necklace that we share. He will be my friend forever. I hop onto my bed and lie back as I click my phone screen, pulling up my Favorites list. My thumb hovers over his name. I take a deep breath and touch his name. My heart thrums wildly as his phone rings twice on the other end. His voice comes through my earpiece, and I almost cry from happiness. I can move to New York tomorrow with no regrets because the world is right as long as Jax and I are friends again. “Little Love.” His voice sounds anxious, hesitant. “Hey, mister.” Another rogue tear escapes, but this tear is full of happiness.

time, but act like she’s not as smart as someone else, and she changes from cuddly kitten to ferocious tiger.

Revenge gets you nowhere and achieves nothing. It only satisfies the flesh. Let it go.

The bags under her deep blue- green eyes told me we had the same darkness Despite her tight blonde ponytail I could see her mess We made each other's pain hurt less (at least for a while) God smiled the first day I asked her, “You want to hang out at recess?

Maybe I didn’t ruin everything after all.

I did send you her measurements.

I caused the marriage break up. I caused the relationship break up. I caused the exam failure. I prompted the problems I am facing I should have studied better at school. I should have married her. I lost everything. Whatever it is forgive yourself and move on!