Edi Quotes

Rejection is a cancer, Edie. It eats away at a person.

Sometimes, Edie, a person's feelings aren't rational. At least, they don't seem that way on the surface. You have to dig a little deeper to understand what lies at the base

I’m so fucking in love with you, Edie Van Der Zee, I don’t know where I end and where you begin anymore. I love you despite knowing that it is crazy. That our situations are disastrous. I love you knowing that you should have at least a few more experiences before you find the love.

I love to walk. Walking is a spiritual journey and a reflection of living. Each of us must determine which path to take and how far to walk; we must find our own way, what is right for one may not be for another. There is no single right way to deal with late stage cancer, to live life or approach death, or to walk an old mission trail.

You’re my Delilah, Edie, and I’m your Samson. You want to ruin me, destroy me, strip me of my power, and betray me. I should stay away from you, but I want you too fucking much. And when it’s all over, when all that’s left of us is sweaty flesh and shattered minds and torn hearts, you will remember me as the man who made you cry, and I’ll remember you as the girl I had to break to stay afloat.

No amount of psychological therapy or group training can effectively address racism in this country, unless we also begin to dismantle the structures of racism.

I should warn you, Edie. I’m not the prince in this fairy tale. I’m the villain. The poisonous apple, the flame-breathing monster.

Now I had seen the grief of the two strongest people I knew. And somehow, Daddy's and Edie's crying made them seem even stronger to me. It was better to cry than to suck it up and go around conjuring hate in your heart

Everyone agreed that Edie was a tough woman to love, though she was worth loving.

Are you calm now?” Trent’s voice caressed the crown of my head. “Physically, yes. But we’re entering danger territory. I’ve never been in waters so deep.” I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly afraid of being so frank. “Neither have I, but I’m a good swimmer. And, Edie? You’re an excellent surfer.

Stuck in the Elevator by Edie Brickell.

The trouble with shooting people, Edie Banister now remembers, is that it's so hard to do just one.

Andy Warhol would like to have been Edie Sedgwick. He would like to have been a charming, well-born débutante from Boston. He would like to have been anybody except Andy Warhol.

Finn?" "Edie." "Don't let me out of your sight.

A terrible day," Frank echoes. "Yes," Edie says, her gaze never leaving Ava's face. "But look. You grew up anyway.

But you see in dealing with me, the relatives didn't know that they were dealing with a staunch character and I tell you if there's anything worse than dealing with a staunch woman... S-T-A-U-N-C-H. There's nothing worse, I'm telling you. They don't weaken, no matter what. ” ― Edith "Little Edie" Bouvier Beale

I'd like to turn on the whole world for just a moment... just for a moment. I'm greedy; I'd like to keep most of it for myself and a few others, a few of my friends... to keep that superlative high, just on the cusp of each day... so that I'd radiate sunshine.

There's nothing I hate more than nothing. Nothing keeps me up at night. I toss and turn over nothing. Nothing could cause a great big fight.

The past can’t touch you unless you let it.

I’m in love with everyone I’ve ever met in one way or another. I’m just a crazy, unhinged disaster of a human being.

It's not that I'm rebelling. It's that I'm just trying to find another way.

We all die. Not all of us live.

You and I, we don't love too wisely, but too well.

The way I see it,’ Edie said, holding both their hands, as they looked at the water rushing over the rocks, ‘you get people who are important to you, for as long as you get them. You never know how long it will be. You have to accept it and make use of the time you have.

Edie didn't budge. She leaned her chin on her knees and felt sad. She was a big reader too, but she liked THE BOBBSEY TWINS or HONEY BUNCH AT THE SEASHORE. She loved that nice family life. She tried to live it in the three rooms on the fourth floor. Sometimes she called her father Dad, or even Father, which surprised him. Who? he asked.

Edie Sedgwick (1943-1971) I don't know how she did it. Fire She was shaking all over. It took her hours to put her make-up on. But she did it. Even the false eye-lashes. She ordered gin with triple limes. Then a limosine. Everyone knew she was the real heroine of Blonde on Blonde. oh it isn't fair oh it isn't fair how her ermine hair turned men around she was white on white so blonde on blonde and her long long legs how I used to beg to dance with her but I never had a chance with her oh it isn't fair how her ermine hair used to swing so nice used to cut the air how all the men used to dance with her I never got a chance with her though I really asked her down deep where you do really dream in the mind reading love I'd get inside her move and we'd turn around and she'd turn around and turn the head of everyone in town her shaking shaking glittering bones second blonde child after brian jones oh it isn't fair how I dreamed of her and she slept and she slept forever and I'll never dance with her no never she broke down like a baby like a baby girl like a lady with ermine hair oh it isn't fair and I'd like to see her rise again her white white bones with baby brian jones baby brian jones like blushing baby dolls

I planned to reintroduce him to my friends lorazepam and oxycodone in a big, big way.

Accepting the loss of a loved one is difficult. But reconciling with the living is just as important.

He seems an unlikely companion for a woman like Edie Banister, but the world, Daniel once observed, is a great honeycombed thing composed of separated mysteries.

Investing in friendship and love always brings great returns. — Edie Melson —

In 1970, Danvers town historian Richard B. Trask asked the property owners, Alfred and Edie Anne Hutchinson, for permission to do an archaeological dig there.

You make it sound as if I hit her. I did nothing to Edie!' 'Oh? You did nothing? The woman I found in your wake, stripped of all self-repsect, convinced that she was a failure as a mother and a lover: that wasn't your work? Because I think it was!

Is he your very first gingerbread man?' She nodded. 'You eat him.' 'Eat his head?' 'I always start with the feet,' Edie suggested. 'But if I eat him, he'll be dead.' 'No, he'll be in your tummy,' Layla said. 'There's a difference.' 'I think I'd better eat his head first,' Susannah said ... 'That way he won't know what's happening to him.' 'That's a very kind thought,' Layla approved.

I want to reach people and express myself. You have to put up with the risk of being misunderstood if you are going to try to communicate. You have to put up with people projecting their own ideas, attitudes, misunderstanding you. But it's worth being a public fool if that's all you can be in order to communicate yourself.

I dream about you every night. It's torture." "Why torture?" "Because I wake up knowing I didn't actually touch you.

Lots of people go back to other hospitals but not to Bloomingdale. It cured me. It made me feel if I was ever to commit suicide again, it had to be done. No more attempts. No more games.

[A]ll that mystical jabber about expecting the unexpected is just so much toffee. Expect the unexpected, Edie was told by a sour veteran sergeant in Burma, and the expected will walk up to you and blow your expectations out through the back of your head. Expect the expected, just don’t forget the rest.

I’d always wanted to think that love could heal anything. But I realized lying there, eyes closed, listening to Asher breathe, that really love is what happens when you find out that it can’t.

There’s no doubt that at times Edie Sedgwick howled at the moon, but she knew her own power and she dignified the unvarnished truth of her existence. Her life was loose, baggy and sloppy, but completely uncaged, and you can’t ask more than that.

A poor Negro has at least the excuse of his birth,” Edie said. “The poor white has nothing to blame for his station but his own character. Well, of course, that won’t do. That would mean having to assume some responsibility for his own laziness and sorry behavior. No, he’d much rather stomp around burning crosses and blaming the Negro for everything than go out and try to get an education or improve himself in any way.

She was abused and tormented, and despite all the drug abuse seemed to float through a world where she did not belong. Whatever went on behind those beautiful eyes, you cannot help feeling that only the fairies and leprechauns will recognise Edie Sedgwick

Just got to fnafflebrump caddwallame, all right?" Edie says, and no one pays attention. She learned at Lady Gravely's that nonsense which can be misheard is a very good way to lie without getting caught. People just insert whatever they think you must be doing, and - having lied to themselves on your behalf - are disinclined to check up on you.

Edie Sedgwick didn’t really fit in on this planet. She didn’t fit in anywhere. She’d spent years in mental institutions, she took far too many drugs and yet she was destined to make an impression on just about everyone who ever met her, so much so that they wanted to write about her, sing about her, put her photos on album covers and, of course, film her.

She shrugged and, with one gulp, drank half a glass of champagne. “How long has she been like this?” The look on Edie’s father’s face was edging from half to threequarters barbarian. “Oh, about two years,” Edie said, considering. “In the stages of marital harmony, I’d say the two of you are at about stage eight of ten—ten being the slough of utter despond.

I only mark the hours that shine.

There is nothing truly painful about this, except the knowledge that, eventually, you'll stop touching me. That's what hurts. Moira.

Welcome to the secret wing of County Hospital ....Where vampires get transfused, werewolves have silver allergies, and one nurse is way over her head !

Edie’s diaries made me realise life was made up of lots of small moments that you could control and a few big ones that you couldn’t.

It’s okay to be afraid, Edie. You just can’t let it stop you from doing anything.” I

A pungent smell of manure blew in the window. “The odor of these Scottish wildflowers is astonishing,” Edie said,

My books can be divided into dog eras. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow was begun in the era of Edie and Frank and completed in the era of Leia and Frank. Good dogs, all.

Crash Landing Hope Landing Romantic Suspense Book 5 Edie James

Miss Edi: My brother Bertrand is the laziest person in the world. David: Oh yeah? And how lazy is that? Miss Edi: When he was three and saw all his gifts under the Christmas tree, he said, 'Who's going to open them for me?' David: I've heard worse. Miss Edi: When he was six, my father bought him a bicycle and took him out to teach him to ride it. David: And? Miss Edi: Bertrand did very well. My father ran along behind him, holding on, and my brother balanced perfectly. But when my father let go and the bicycle stopped, Bertrand asked why. When my father said he had to push on the pedals, my brother left it lying there in the street, and he never got on a bicycle again. David: Not bad, but I've heard worse. Miss Edi: When he was twelve, my parents took us out to a restaurant, the first one we'd ever been to, and my father ordered steaks for each of us. When my brother's came, he looked at it and asked how he was to eat it. My father showed him how to cut the steak, then how to chew it. My brother called the waiter back and ordered a bowl of mashed potatoes. David: Okay, that's getting up there, but I have heard a few worse. Miss Edi: When he was sixteen, my mother arranged for her beloved son to go to a dance with a very nice young girl. He was to pick her up at six pm. At six-thirty Bertrand was sitting in the living room and my father asked him why he hadn't gone on his date. My brother said, 'Because she hasn't come to get me yet.

I want to reach people and express myself. You have to put up with the risk of being misunderstood if you are going to try to communicate. You have to put up with people projecting their own ideas, attitudes, misunderstanding you. But it’s worth being a public fool if that’s all you can be in order to communicate yourself.

Come on. Let's go up to the kitchen, make some tea. We can try another one of Zia's cupcakes. She made some with chocolate frosting." Lily froze in her tracks. "I hate it," she burst out. "I'm here, sipping tea and nibbling cupcakes while Bruno's out there? What, should I maybe crochet a white lace doily while I'm at it?" Tam and Edie exchanged glances. Tam, spoke, her voice dry. "Shot of bourbon, then?

I thank God every day for this life, and I want there to be more, though that’s not known. What is known is that I’m alive today, this minute. And that’s pretty much what we all have – this day, this moment.

Mi diressi dalla metro verso il South Dock, attraversai il South Quay Footbridge e lo ritrovai in pochi minuti di cammino. Ogni volta che visitavo l'ex area portuale, da quand'era stata trasformata in centro direzionale dagli splendidi grattacieli in vetro e acciaio, non potevo non restare colpita dallo sforzo che era stato fatto per abbracciare la modernità senza sacrificare la bellezza. Il grattacielo dove viveva Edy, in South Quay Plaza, non faceva eccezione, anche se la zona era un po' troppo densa di cemento per i miei gusti. Mi fermai alla base dell'edificio, lasciando che il mio sguardo cercasse di raggiungere la sommità della torre di vetro. In fondo, era ovvio che Edy Thor vivesse lassù, quasi a guardare noi mortali dall'alto.

Who hit you in the butt with a saddle and told you you could ride?" a starter hissed before a race. "The same S.O.B. that hit you in the butt and told you you could start!" he shot back. Pollard had found the one place on earth that could hold his interest. He was broke, hungry, and, according to his sister Edie, "happy as heck.

Saudade,’ Edie said. ‘What?’ Elliot half-shouted over the din, not unreasonably. ‘A Portuguese word that has no direct translation, it means “a profound longing for something or someone that is absent and might never return”.

Woman, you got a mouth on you." "It's not 1955 any longer. Women swear as much as men." "I miss women who talk about women things." "You're changing the subject. Keep it up and I'll talk about my period. That's a woman thing.

I know how it feels to love every inch of someone: eyelashes, earlobes, toenails, the skin and flesh and muscles and veins and bones, every one.

She didn’t belong on this planet, yet she somehow touched everyone who came into contact with her

Edie Banister, wearing a false moustache which tastes of tiger flank and erotic dancer, sitting six storeys up on the windowsill of the aged mother of a renownedly murderous prince, takes a few seconds to contemplate the unusual direction of her life.

Edie was a gorgeous, avant-garde girl back in the day when that could be a full-time occupation, but in marriage she slowly became less wild. To Manny’s great disappointment, though, her domestic skills didn’t rise to the fore as her sexual and artistic ones receded.

On the way back something very strange happened. I didn't realize I was going to say it, but I said out loud, "I wish I was dead"... the love and the beauty and the ecstasy of the whole experience I'd just gone through were really so alien. I didn't even know the man... it had been a one-night jag... he was married and had children... and I just felt lost. It hardly seemed worth living any more because once again I was alone.

L'ingresso di Edy zum Thor nell’open space mi distolse dai miei pensieri. Silenzioso come un gatto, dopo la consueta pausa caffè mi era scivolato alle spalle e si era seduto alla sua scrivania, proprio accanto alla mia. Lo salutai con un cenno del capo e mi rimisi immediatamente al lavoro. Se c'era qualcuno capace di farti sentire in colpa con uno sguardo, anche quando sapevi di non aver fatto nulla di sbagliato, quello era Edy Thor. Forse per via delle sue origini anglo-tedesche, che lo rendevano un uomo tutto d'un pezzo, aveva sempre stampata in viso l'espressione di chi è a posto con la coscienza ma potrebbe, quando meno te lo aspetti, cogliere te in fallo. Quando Edy lavorava vicino a me − attività che, per fortuna, era interrotta da frequenti riunioni nell'ufficio del nostro direttore editoriale − mi sentivo costantemente sotto osservazione. Non che lui badasse mai al mio operato: era anzi perennemente immerso nello schermo del computer, intento a rendere qualsiasi testo dovessimo pubblicare non un po' migliore, ma il suo capolavoro.

In the center is Judge Theodore Sedgwick, the first of the Stockbridge Sedgwicks and a great-great-great-grandfather of Edie's and of mine, is buried under his tombstone, a high rising obelisk, and his wife Pamela is beside him. They are like the king and queen on a chessboard, and all around them like a pie are more modest stones, put in layers, back and round in a circle. The descendants of Judge Sedgwick, from generation unto generation, are all buried with their heads facing out and their feet pointing in toward their ancestor. The legend is that on Judgement Day when they arise and face the Judge, they will have to see no one but Sedgwicks.

Only you can tell your story the way it really happened. Without your voice, it’s just a collection of disjointed memories.

Of all the places I didn’t want to live, the past was at the top of the list.

I came to realize we are held in the arms of God and are utterly completely safe - in life and in death; whether walking alone or with others.

Knowing a large proportion of your fellow citizens was one thing; but when you recognized each other’s pets by name, you knew you’d never get a Red Lobster.

This tape is supposed to be about love, and I guess the distortions of love. The Love Tape. Do you have any questions you want to ask me?

You and I, we throw caution to the wind! We swim to great depths! We face the sea!

If all I cared about was me, I could make a million. And that’s what they will never understand.

I say death a lot… it means I’m concerned with life.

Each of us is in some way mentally imprisoned, and it is Edie’s mission to help us realize that just as we can act as our own jailors, we can also be our own liberators.

But if you believe in heaven then you have to believe someone's keeping score. And if someone's keeping score, if what we do really matters, then life ought to be fair. And I'm sorry it isn't. Shitty things happen to good people, and bad people never get what's coming to them. Don't tell me that there is a heaven as some sort of perverse reward for being good. That is bullshit of the highest caliber

Nurses are natural kleptos. You don't want to be in a roon without enough supplies, so every time you walk past the med-cart you pocket another saline flush. By the end of the shift you can look like a chipmunk if you're not careful. Some days it's hard to remember that the gum at the end of the grocery aisle isn't there just for you.

Nurses are natural kleptos. You don’t want to be in a room without enough supplies, so every time you walk past the med-cart you pocket another saline flush. By the end of the shift you can look like a chipmunk if you’re not careful.

I had fun, but I really didn't have anyone I particularly loved. And I still don't, except for loving friends. But I mean I haven't been in love with anyone for years and years... but I have a certain amount of faith that it will come.

The cool air Edie speaks of? It drifts down off the mountain, unraveling itself through trees, dipping its fingers in the streams. It comes in through the back door and through the windows cast open for it. The fat possums shiver and return to their meals. It lifts up the months on the calendar and leafs through the newspaper pattern in a pile on the table. It fills up the yellow kitchen and overflows into the hallway and spills into the rooms. Rose closes her eyes again and smiles.

That night, I watched Edie for far too long. That night, I’d changed. That night, I didn’t take anything from Edie Van Der Zee. For the first time in years—I gave something of myself. Worst part? I’d never be able to retrieve it. It was hers. Forever.

Edie?” I put the can opener down. “Can I ask you a personal question?” “I’m your aunt! Shoot.” She kept chopping methodically. “Why aren’t you married?” “Well, why aren’t you married?” Her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m 15!” I retorted. “Yeah, and I’m 42. And a half.

My voice mail message says I work nights and sleep days. Everyone who knows me, knows this. And still, people who aren’t employed at the Nursing Office feel compelled to call me before three P.M. Certain people feel compelled to call me repeatedly, until I pick up—namely, dicks.

I walk down the stairs to lean against her. “I’m sorry,” I say vaguely. I’m not entirely sure what for. Being a weirdo, being a skank. Being the happy-saddest person who ever lived. “Don’t be, darling,” she says. “Life is messy. I certainly don’t expect tidiness from yours or anybody else’s.” She kisses the side of my head. Then she wraps her arms around me because I’m crying. Honey’s got an arm draped over Belle’s shoulder, but he uses his other hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. Everything is unspooling inside me now. If I were a ball of yarn, I’d be just a stringy tangle on the floor. If I were a reservoir, I’d be overflowing my banks. Who I really need to talk to about all of this, of course, is Edi. “She’s going to miss everything now,” I sob. “And you’re going to miss her,” my mother says. “Such lucky girls, both of you.

Who doesn’t like bread?” “Someone who likes their six-pack.” Spoken like the true conceited bastard I was. Luna’s eyes flew to Edie in alarm, and she put her hand on my daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Luna. We don’t need a six-pack. Life is too short to deny yourself a peanut butter, jelly, and cheddar cheese party.

Everything that happened to me has been a paradox for life. The very things that I should have done would have been the trap… I believed in something else. You have to work like mad to make people understand… Even if I don’t make it, you know, I really insist on believing, and then I fall off the edge because there’s nobody else to follow it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Zane doubled over in his chair, still laughing hysterically. If he wasn't already dead, I would have killed him.

Have you forgotten who we are? Inuttigut. We are Inuit. We live in a place littered with bones, with spirits, with reminders of the past. Nothing dies here and nothing rots: not bones, not plastic, not memories. Especially not memories. We live surrounded by our stories. It's one of our gifts. Unlike most of the rest of the world, we can't escape our stories, Derek.

Abel stared at Jane’s gran blankly, obviously confused by her comment until Jane managed to tear her gaze away from his body and gesture. Looking down, seeing that he’d lost his towel and understanding what Gran was ogling, Edie’s brother promptly dropped his arms so that the cat hid his nakedness. Tinkle promptly leaped, snapping at the cat, so Abel instinctively raised the poor creature back out of the dog’s reach. Again and again he lifted then dropped the cat in a desperate effort to hide himself and yet protect the beast from the barking Tinkle. For Jane it was like watching a rather bizarre peekaboo yo-yo act. Up and down and up and down went the cat, and now you see it, now you don’t went Abel’s family jewels. Jane was completely enthralled.

That was Edie. Always dramatic, always dreaming of faraway places and adventure. Yet she never left the safety of her fortress except to go into town on errands or her weekly poker game with the elderly Mr. Henderson. She was, simultaneously, perfectly content and terribly dissatisfied. Nearly impossible to read but wonderful to watch. Insecure yet comfortable in her own skin.

--and yet, in my heart, I always knew we loved each other, a part of me understanding that the passion with which we hurt each other came from something strong enough to withstand the blows we inflicted. Looking back, I guess I always felt that we would have time to work things out eventually, not imagining what was to come; that we would one day have to cut all ties and never speak again.

As the girl closed her eyes, she was thinking of him. Thinking that maybe he was thinking of her, too, but he wasn't thinking of her in that way. He was holding her in the palm of his hand, wrapping her around his fingers, one at a time, twisting and molding and bending her brain. I try to whisper in the girl's ear: “Edy, get up. Just lock your door. That's all you need to do. Lock your door, Edy, please!” I shout, but the girl doesn't hear me. It's too late.

Shh, kitten,” he whispered in English once more, nuzzling her temple, mouth open and hot against her ear. “Trust me.” His palms curved beneath her breasts, lifting them as his blunt fingertips tweaked her nipples expertly enough to have slickness gathering between her clenched thighs. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever touched. Une ange, bébé.” He groaned quietly as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Je t’adore,” he muttered, thrusting against her backside.

Now I’m just driving past office parks and outlet malls, feeling excited and oddly patriotic. Lana Del Rey plays on the speakers and I see beauty everywhere. There’s that line in Grey Gardens when Little Edie is digging through a pile of what looks like garbage and mutters, This is all art. She says it quietly and it doesn’t appear on the transcript PDF of the film I’ve read over a hundred times on my laptop, but I’m positive she says it. And now I’m repeating This is all art to myself like a schizophrenic mantra while watching an American flag wave perkily above a P.F. Chang’s.

Today and every day, may you see the magnificent light of Love shining in each other’s eyes. May you know the comfort that comes with the certainty that the one who stands before you is the perfect reflection of your Highest Self. Allow him and allow her to be your most ardent admirer, while letting love be the stone with which you polish yourselves, smoothing away the hardened edges. May you bring out the shadow side of each other and then consign it to the light. May you bring out the highest in each other and celebrate it to the fullest. And may your love be a glorious example to the world. So be it.

I do love Alice in Wonderland though. That’s something I think I could do very well. Don’t you think we ought to do an A.W.? A.W.’s Alice in Wonderland? Andy Warhol’s Alice in Wonderland? A.W. stands for a lot of things, I understand. It would make a fantastic film, so I wanted somebody to write the script for it in a modern sense. I think it would be the most marvelous movie in the world if it could be done, don’t you think? Really, I don’t think they’ve done one since they did a Walt Disney one - which isn’t really doing it. In a sense it is, but not in the way it really should be done. What’s needed right now is a real scene. I mean not just cartoon characters, but the actual character of people because there’s so many fantastic people that you might as well use the people.

Well, when you do want to marry, what do you want him to be like?” I baited, playfully jabbing her in the ribs with a piece of driftwood. “And don’t kid around.” … Tilting her head back, she thought for a moment and then said quite honestly, “Like a familiar sweet dream. The kind you dream every so often and can’t remember when you wake up, but you long to dream all day long. Or like a favorite book you loved as a child and forgot about until you found it in an old box in the closet.

What’s insane about this—other than the fact we’ve never talked about it, not even once—is that I’m not nervous in any way. Just excited. We already feel like a married couple, and I say that in the best, non-boring way possible. He is stability and love. Security and confidence. I’m his tide, and he’s my anchor. Or maybe the sand itself. “Edie Van Der Zee, I want to dip my toes in the waves you make every single day for the rest of my miserable life. I want to fuck you—just you, only you, no one else—and a lot. Every. Single. Day. I want to live with you. I want to parade that fucked-up thing we have that keeps people raising eyebrows and thinking I’m a cradle-snatching douchebag, because fuck ’em, they’ll never have what we have. Will you marry me? I don’t ask for a lot. Not for kids, not for dinner, not for anything to be done in the house. I don’t ask you for anything other than what you’re willing to give me.” Luna peeks from the door, smiling. I turn my body to her, smiling. I expect her to sign me something. Something like “aw, gross,” or “Daddy is being silly again”. But she doesn’t. Instead, she arches one eyebrow, opens her lips, and lets the words fall out, awarding her father with the best present he could ever have. “Say yes.

Trent kissed my nose softly, his forehead dropping to mine. “I love you,” he said, cupping my neck from both sides and shaking his head in exasperation, like this was a mistake. Like he shouldn’t be loving me, but had no other choice. My heart swelled. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Edie Van Der Zee, I don’t know where I end and where you begin anymore. I love you despite knowing that it is crazy. That our situations are disastrous. I love you knowing that you should have at least a few more experiences before you find the love. I love you even though we’re not at the same place in life, have nothing in common, and started off so fucking bad. And still, I love you.” “I love you.” I sniffed, holding back my tears, pressing my forehead deeper to his. “I love how fierce you are when it comes to the people you care about. I love that you’re so aware of your flaws. I love that you fight them. I even love it when you succumb to them. I love every single part of you. The good and the bad. And I will never love anyone else the way I do you, because it’s not about my age. It’s about my heart. It belongs to you. Trent Rexroth, you’re my ocean. You make me wet.” He grinned, pulling me into a tight hug. “I would have come for you, Van Der Zee, even if you had given him the flash drive. Even if you threw me in the lion’s den. And I promise to never stop making you wet, my Little Tide. Promise to always keep you drenched.