Hurry Up Friday Quotes

He cocked his head and sent her a dimpled smile. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" Where am I going? "I don't know. Probably the library." "On a Friday night?" He made a show of horror. "What the heck are you going to do there?" "Oh, what most people do at their local library—three way orgy, summon up the dead, if there's time, jam up the copy machine with Canadian quarters. Same old same old.

17.2 One evening I was to meet Marilyn up at her mother's apartment for our ritual Friday night dinner. On my way up to the Bronx, when I got off at the 175th Street station, I decided to stop in and see what sort of sexual activity was going on in the subway john there. I'd never gone into that one before, perhaps because I usually came there with Marilyn. I pushed into the yellow-tiled space, with its dim, caged light-bulbs. There was only one guy at the urinal, a tall workman in greens and scuffed orange construction boots-- which had, only in the last year or so, become standard wear for the nation's laborers. I stood a stall away from him, and we glanced at each other. When I smiled, he turned toward me. I reached for his penis. Holding it, I realized something was wrong with it, but, for the moment, couldn't quite figure what. For its thickness and harness it was too short. It ended in a kind of flat stump, like a sawed-off dowel, without the collar or taper of glans, making me think he was uncircumcised. Only there was no cuff of skin. That's when he said, a little hoarsely, "That's what there is. If you want it, it's yours. But that's it." And I realized that, either from medical procedure or something else, the first inch or so had been amputated. He came very fast. I wanted to talk with him afterward, but he zipped up once we were finished and hurried away. I never saw him again, though I looked for him. But the image stayed, unsettlingly, for a while.

Come to my house right now, and I’ll let you sneak up to my room. I’ll be a sitting duck for you if it means I can see you again.” “No.” “No?” “No, I don’t want to win like that. When I get your name, I want to have the satisfaction of knowing I beat you fair and square. My first ever Assassins win can’t be tainted.” I pause. “And besides, your house is a safe zone.” Peter lets out an aggravated sigh. “Are you at least coming to my lacrosse game on Friday?” His lacrosse game! That’s the perfect place to take him out. I try to keep my voice calm and even as I say, “I can’t come. My dad has a date, and he needs me to watch Kitty.” A lie, but Peter doesn’t know that. “Well, can’t you bring her? She’s been asking to go to one of my games.” I think fast. “No, because she has a piano lesson after school.” “Since when does Kitty play the piano?” “Recently, in fact. She heard from our neighbor that it helps with training puppies; it calms them down.” I bite my lip. Will he buy it? I hurry to add, “I promise I’ll be at the next game no matter what.” Peter groans, this time even louder. “You’re killing me, Covey.” Soon, my dear Peter. I will surprise him at the game; I’ll get all decked out in our school colors; I’ll even paint his jersey number on my face. He’ll be so happy to see me, he won’t suspect a thing!

We came to the city because we wished to live haphazardly, to reach for only the least realistic of our desires, and to see if we could not learn what our failures had to teach, and not, when we came to live, discover that we had never died. We wanted to dig deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to be overworked and reduced to our last wit. And if our bosses proved mean, why then we’d evoke their whole and genuine meanness afterward over vodka cranberries and small batch bourbons. And if our drinking companions proved to be sublime then we would stagger home at dawn over the Old City cobblestones, into hot showers and clean shirts, and press onward until dusk fell again. For the rest of the world, it seemed to us, had somewhat hastily concluded that it was the chief end of man to thank God it was Friday and pray that Netflix would never forsake them. Still we lived frantically, like hummingbirds; though our HR departments told us that our commitments were valuable and our feedback was appreciated, our raises would be held back another year. Like gnats we pestered Management— who didn’t know how to use the Internet, whose only use for us was to set up Facebook accounts so they could spy on their children, or to sync their iPhones to their Outlooks, or to explain what tweets were and more importantly, why— which even we didn’t know. Retire! we wanted to shout. We ha Get out of the way with your big thumbs and your senior moments and your nostalgia for 1976! We hated them; we wanted them to love us. We wanted to be them; we wanted to never, ever become them. Complexity, complexity, complexity! We said let our affairs be endless and convoluted; let our bank accounts be overdrawn and our benefits be reduced. Take our Social Security contributions and let it go bankrupt. We’d been bankrupt since we’d left home: we’d secure our own society. Retirement was an afterlife we didn’t believe in and that we expected yesterday. Instead of three meals a day, we’d drink coffee for breakfast and scavenge from empty conference rooms for lunch. We had plans for dinner. We’d go out and buy gummy pad thai and throat-scorching chicken vindaloo and bento boxes in chintzy, dark restaurants that were always about to go out of business. Those who were a little flush would cover those who were a little short, and we would promise them coffees in repayment. We still owed someone for a movie ticket last summer; they hadn’t forgotten. Complexity, complexity. In holiday seasons we gave each other spider plants in badly decoupaged pots and scarves we’d just learned how to knit and cuff links purchased with employee discounts. We followed the instructions on food and wine Web sites, but our soufflés sank and our baked bries burned and our basil ice creams froze solid. We called our mothers to get recipes for old favorites, but they never came out the same. We missed our families; we were sad to be rid of them. Why shouldn’t we live with such hurry and waste of life? We were determined to be starved before we were hungry. We were determined to be starved before we were hungry. We were determined to decrypt our neighbors’ Wi-Fi passwords and to never turn on the air-conditioning. We vowed to fall in love: headboard-clutching, desperate-texting, hearts-in-esophagi love. On the subways and at the park and on our fire escapes and in the break rooms, we turned pages, resolved to get to the ends of whatever we were reading. A couple of minutes were the day’s most valuable commodity. If only we could make more time, more money, more patience; have better sex, better coffee, boots that didn’t leak, umbrellas that didn’t involute at the slightest gust of wind. We were determined to make stupid bets. We were determined to be promoted or else to set the building on fire on our way out. We were determined to be out of our minds.

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I’ve got to get Brittany alone if I’m gonna have any chance of saving face and saving my Honda. Does her freakout session mean she really doesn’t hate me? I’ve never seen that girl do anything not scripted or 100 percent intentional. She’s a robot. Or so I thought. She’s always looked and acted like a princess on camera every time I’ve seen her. Who knew it’d be my bloody arm that would crack her. I look over at Brittany. She’s focused on my arm and Miss Koto’s ministrations. I wish we were back in the library. I could swear back there she was thinking about getting it on with me. I’m sporting la tengo dura right here in front of Miss Koto just thinking about it. Gracias a Dios the nurse walks over to the medicine cabinet. Where’s a large chem book when you need one? “Let’s hang Thursday after school. You know, to work on the outline,” I tell Brittany for two reasons. First, I need to stop thinking about getting naked with her in front of Miss Koto. Second, I want Brittany to myself. “I’m busy Thursday,” she says. Probably with Burro Face. Obviously she’d rather be with that pendejo than me. “Friday then,” I say, testing her although I probably shouldn’t. Testing a girl like Brittany could put a serious damper on my ego. Although I caught her at a time when she’s vulnerable and still shaking from seeing my blood. I admit I’m a manipulative asshole. She bites her bottom lip that she thinks is glossed with the wrong color. “I can’t Friday, either.” My hard-on is officially deflated. “What about Saturday morning?” she says. “We can meet at the Fairfield Library.” “You sure you can pencil me into your busy schedule?” “Shut up. I’ll meet you there at ten.” “It’s a date,” I say while Miss Koto, obviously eavesdropping, finishes wrapping my arm with dorky gauze. Brittany gathers her books. “It’s not a date, Alex,” she says over her shoulder. I grab my book and hurry into the hallway after her. She’s walking alone. The loudspeaker music isn’t playing so class is still on. “It might not be a date, but you still owe me a kiss. I always collect debts.” My chem partner’s eyes go from dull to shining mad and full of fire. Mmm, dangerous. I wink at her. “And don’t sweat about what lip gloss to wear on Saturday. You’ll just have to reapply it after we make out.

You’re ready to drive back to school now?” Curtis asked, trying to conceal some of the disappointment in his voice. Genesis tilted Curtis’ head up to look at him. “Yes. I wish I could stay longer but the coach raised enough hell about me missing practice today.” “He bitched because you told him your brother is a cop and was shot at? That’s not considered a family emergency?” “No. He bitched because I told him my boyfriend needed me.” Curtis was so shocked he ended up leaning into Genesis’ broad chest to keep from falling over. Boyfriend. “You came back for me?” “If I came home every time God or Day were shot at, I’d flunk out of school for sure.” Genesis drawled. Curtis looked back down at his feet and Genesis gently lifted his head up again. “I know I said boyfriend. I want you to know, I’m not seeing anyone and I haven’t in a long time. I’m not a player or a tramp or whatever else guys try to be these days. I just want someone to spend time with that actually likes me. I just want to spend some time with you. It’s soon, I know. You don’t have to say boyfriend if you —” “No. B-boyfriend is fine,” Curtis said hurriedly. Genesis smiled and shook his head. “Good, then.” He bent and kissed Curtis lightly on his forehead. “I have to head back. I’ll call you later. And I’ll see you on Friday.” “Eight o’clock sharp,” Curtis whispered. Genesis kissed Curtis’ injured wrist and laid it back at his side. “Be good until I get back, bad boy.” Genesis leaned low until he was at Curtis’ ear. His voice threatening and growly. “I’d hate to have to spank you when I get back.” Curtis shivered hard as Genesis gave him a lingering kiss behind his ear, before backing up with a devious grin. Dear lord. How will I stop myself from behaving like a tramp? “Drive carefully, Gen.” Curtis said before Genesis got to the door. “Six days, beautiful,” Genesis said softly, right before he let the door close.

Just as we were passing the school, Blake slid his hand down my arm and intertwined our fingers. “Rachel, why did you finally agree to go out with me?” When I looked up, I was surprised at his somber expression. I would have expected something a little more taunting. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?” “I’d appreciate it. I’ve asked you out for . . . shit. I don’t know, nine months now? No matter what I said, your answer was always no. Until last night.” “Well . . .” I looked down at the sidewalk passing beneath our feet. “You can tell me, it’s fine. You never were one to hide your feelings. And your hate for me lately has been a little more than apparent. I’m already expecting the worst.” “I don’t hate you. I just don’t exactly like you . . . anymore.” I squinted up at him and nudged his side with the arm he still had a firm grip on. He gave a little grunt with a forced smile. “Um, Candice is always bugging me for turning you down. She said she would stop if I agreed to one date with you.” I know, I know, I could have made something up that wasn’t so harsh. But I didn’t. If I hadn’t looked back down, I probably would have missed the pause in his step. “Figures.” We walked for a few more minutes before he paused and turned to me. “I’m not going to make you go out with me.” “You aren’t. I said I’d go.” He raised an eyebrow, making it disappear under his shaggy hair. “You also told me earlier today that we weren’t going anymore. I’m just letting you know I’ll stop. All of it. Asking you all the time, what I did today. And I’ll talk to Candice.” “Blake—” “No, Rach, I should have stopped a long time ago. I’m sorry you felt pressured into it last night. I want you to want to go on a date with me. I don’t want you to go just so she’ll drop it or because you want me to quit asking. Which I will.” I couldn’t tell if he looked more embarrassed or hurt. Is it ridiculous that I want to comfort him? “I want to go.” “No, you don’t.” Okay, still somewhat true. “I didn’t . . . before.” Ugh, who am I kidding. He knows I’m lying anyway. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. You can’t exactly blame me for not wanting to go out with you.” He looked as if I’d slapped him. I hurried on before I could chicken out on the rest. “I mean, come on, Blake, you were rumored to be screwing all these students, coworkers, and faculty. And not once did you try to shut down those rumors. Add to that, the Blake I grew up with is completely gone; now you’re usually kind of a douche. Why would I want to go out with someone like that?” “Rumors are going to spread no matter what I do. The more I try to stop them, the guiltier I look. Trust me. As for you thinking I’m a douche . . .” His voice trailed off and he ran a hand through his hair. “Try seeing it from my side. The only girl I’ve wanted for years now and can’t get out of my head no matter what I do repeatedly blows me off like I’m nothing.” Did he say years? Letting go of my hand, he turned away from me and ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” “What about drinks?” “I’m not going to make you do this, Rachel.” “Blake, why can’t you just be like this all the time? If how you were growing up, last night, and the last hour was how you always were . . . I probably wouldn’t have ever turned you down.” He huffed a sad laugh. “Yeah, well . . . obviously I’ve already fucked that up.” I watched him begin walking in the direction of the dorms and squeezed my eyes shut as I called after him, “You know, you kinda traumatized me tonight. I feel like you owe me a beer.” Peeking through my eyelashes, I saw him stop but not turn around. “And maybe dinner on Friday night?” When Blake turned to face me, his smile was wide and breathtaking.

For long seconds, neither of them moved. The only sound in the forest was the wind luffing through the trees, their labored breathing, and the soft thud of their heartbeats. Then Call muttered something beneath his breath. Gathering his long limbs, he lifted himself away from her and regained his feet. His shaft was still hard, big and thick and jutting forward through his open fly as if they hadn’t just made wildly passionate love. Call rid himself of the condom, zipped his faded jeans, and turned to find her groping for her sweater, pulling it on to cover her naked breasts. Swearing, he reached down and snatched up her jeans and pink satin panties, which were tangled together and refused to come apart. “Here.” She blushed as he unwound the fabric, handing her first the panties, then the jeans, which she hurriedly pulled on. She didn’t look at him. Her cheeks were hot and her lacy pink bra still lay embarrassingly on the ground. She snatched it up and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. Charity swallowed, made herself turn and face him, tried to muster some sort of smile. “I…um…I don’t suppose we can blame this on your relief at finding me alive and safe.” He shook his head, his eyes still fixed on her face. “I don’t think so.” “Just lust then, I suppose.” He shrugged those wide shoulders and she wished he would put his shirt back on so she didn’t have to remember all that smooth muscle moving beneath her hands. “So it’s just a one-night stand.” His head came up. Eyes as blue as the sky bored into her. “In case you haven’t noticed, the sun is still up.” “The sun is always up in this place. What does that have to do with anything?” He pulled on his shirt and she suddenly wished he were bare-chested again. “It has to do with the fact that the night hasn’t even begun.” Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re not…you’re not saying what I think you are.” “I’m saying exactly what you think I am. If you believe what just happened is anything besides a warm-up, sugar, you had better think again. If I wasn’t worried that Maude might sent the Mounties up here to find us if we don’t get back soon, we’d start over again right here.” “B-but you said…we both said--” “I know exactly what we said. It’s a little late to be worrying about that now.” He looked at her and his deep voice softened. “Besides, I never really believed one night with you would be enough.” Relief trickled through her. Whatever was happening between them, it wasn’t over yet. She gave him a reluctant smile. “I never believed it either.” “Come on.” Call reached out and caught her hand. “It’s Friday. We’ve got the whole weekend ahead of us. Maybe by Monday, we’ll have had enough of each other.” “Maybe,” she said. But Charity didn’t really believe it and from the burning glance Call gave her, she didn’t think he did either.