Jealous Girlfriend Quotes

When in a relationship, a real man doesn't make his woman jealous of others, he makes others jealous of his woman.

I think your girlfriends getting Jealous," Luce said, gesturing at the pair. "Which one?" He asked. "I didn't realise they were both your girlfriends." "Neither is my girlfriend. I meant, which one did you think was my girlfriend?

Cadeon, can you hear me?" He didn't open his eyes. "Nothing wrong with my ears." "Of course not." She laid the cloth on his forehead. "So . . you and Tera seemed close." "Been through a lot." "Was she your girlfriend?" He gave a laugh that sounded like a grunt. "Not at all." "And you really didn't sleep with Imatra?" "Bloody hell, noooo, I didn't . . . She's a slag." "Then why did you kiss her?" Holly asked. "Directions. . . and to see." "To see what?" "That it wouldn't be all that bad without you." This was interesting. "Did you make a determination?" He gave a bitter laugh. "It'll be all that bad." Oh, Cadeon. "You've known I was your female for a year?" He nodded. "Why I would be chosen for you?" "Fate decides . . . who I can be most satisfied with." Nibbling her lip, she asked, "Have you slept with anyone else since you knew it was me?" "Gave a halfhearted try for a witch . . . she wanted a werewolf instead." There was no getting around it--Holly was jealous of the witch. But then Cadeon said, "And I wanted you.

Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in the most civilised manner and I forget myself. I forget the poem. I forget the ...

Vanity, right?" Nash reappeared in the living room with an open bag of potato chips. "I nominate my venerable brother. He likes to play hero, and one look at him should establish the vanity angle." "Nash!" I really shouldn't have been surprised by the dig. But I was. "What?" He raised one brow at me in challenge. "It's okay to call me jealous, but not to call him vain?" "Awareness of one's obvious advantages doesn't imply vanity," Tod insisted calmly. Nash turned on him. "Does it imply narcissism?" Tod huffed. "This coming from the guy who owns more hair products than his girlfriend.

Look at him!” One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend. “He’s hot.” I stiffen. I’m sure they’re not talking about Professor Collins. “Must be Christian Grey.” “Is he single?” I bristle. “I don’t think so,” I murmur. “Oh.” Both girls look at me in surprise. “I think he’s gay,” I mutter. “What a shame,” one of the girls groans.

Love may be blind but jealousy has 20-20 vision.

You, me, together,” he said, his teeth nipping at my earlobe. “Permanently, being as clingy and possessive, jealous, space-invading boyfriend and girlfriend as we want, because this is happening. We are so fucking happening together. Whether you like it or not, you’re mine...just as I’ve been yours for years. So...do you got all that?” - Brandt

You told me, girlfriend. Will your boyfriend be jealous we're tossing bitchy banter back and forth?

Believe me,' [...] 'I would know about it. That's the difference between me and your girlfriend. I am the jealous type. I am the Spanish Inquisition when it comes to being fucked around on. No quarter will be given.

Some people are each holding on to a lover of theirs who no longer loves them and/or who they no longer love, only because they do not want to have a reason or another reason to be jealous of the person who would eventually be their lover if they let go of them.

Because he has finally realized that it is it and not him that is loved by the woman he loves, many a man is jealous of his own car, house, wardrobe, or salary.

Oh no, was I to be one of those girls who gets attacked by a jealous girlfriend?

Is Etienene okay?" "Haven't seen him.He went to Ellie's last night." Just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse.I twist the corners of my pillow. "Did I,uh,say anything weird to him last night?" "Apart from acting like a jealous girlfriend and saying you never wanted to speak to him again? No. Nothing weird at all." I moan as she recounts the night for me blow by blow. "Listen," she says when she finishes, "what's the deal with you two?"" "What do you mean?" "You know what I mean.You two are inseparable." "Except when he's with his girlfriend." "Right.So what's the deal?" I groan again. "I don't know." "Have you guys...you know...done anything?" "No!" "But you like him.And he likes you, too." I stop choking my pillow. "You think?" "Please.The boy gets a boner every time you walk in the room." My eyes pop back open. Does she mean that figuratively or has she actually seen something? No. Focus, Anna. "So why-" "Why is he still with Ellie? He told you last night. He's lonely, or at least he's scared of being lonely. Josh says with all of this stuff with his mom, he's been too freaked out to change anything else in his life." So Meredith was right. Etienne is afraid of change. Why haven't I talked about this with Rashmi before? It seems obvious now.Of course she has inside information,because Etienne talks to Josh,and Josh talks to Rashmi. "You really think he likes me?" I can't help it. She sighs. "Anna.He teases you all the time. It's classic boy-pulling-girl's-pigtai-syndrome.And whenever anyone else even remotely does it,he always takes your side and tells them to shove it." "Huh." She pauses. "You really like him, don't you?" I'm struggling not to cry. "No.It's not like that." "Liar.So are you getting up today or what? You need sustenance.

Not jealous, because in his mind, he had the girl, so why waste ill feelings on some guy who clearly didn’t?

On Religion - I compare the god of the Christian bible to a psychotic, jealous girlfriend. Who else but a crazy girlfriend would demand that a man mutilate his penis as a sign that he loves her? Who else but a crazy boyfriend would do it?!

Watching him walk over, Alex mused that Eli Cooper was the sort of man who knew how to use his physicality. Beneath his handmade shirts and tailored suits, a street fighter hummed through every loose-limbed motion. But that impression did not extend to his face, which was structurally perfect. Skyscraper-high cheekbones. Superhero jaw. A mouth that should have a government warning. There were no signs of past trouble with a jealous husband or an abandoned girlfriend. No one had ever broken his nose. No one had busted his lip. Strange, because her first instinct on seeing him was to roundhouse kick him into the next millennium.

You need to give me a break. I’m an eighteen-year-old girl, and you’re my first boyfriend . . . and you just happen to be stupidly hot. So what if I get petty and jealous?” She shrugged. “I’m allowed. I bet if a guy looked at me like that, you’d probably feel the same.” I let her words sink in before speaking. “A, if a guy looked at you in any way, I’d probably beat his ass. B, I didn’t know I was your boyfriend.” Her eyes went wide. “I just assumed—” “Good,” I interrupted. “Assume away, girlfriend.

really am an asshole. My girlfriend is leaving suddenly, probably cheating on me, and I’m jealous of the lobster rolls and amenities she’s going to enjoy.

Ren took his time perusing the menu and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. I didn’t even pick my menu up. He shot me meaningful glances while I sat silently, trying to avoid making eye contact. When she came back, she spoke to him briefly and gestured to me. I smiled, and in a syrupy sweet voice, said, “I’ll have whatever will get me out of here the fastest. Like a salad, maybe.” Ren smiled benignly back at me and rattled off what sounded like a banquet of choices, which the waitress was more than happy to take her time writing down. She kept touching him and laughing with him too. Which I found very, very annoying. When she left, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his water. I broke the silence first and hissed at him quietly, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you only have about two minutes left, so I hope you ordered the steak tartar, Tiger.” He grinned mischievously. “We’ll see, Kells. We’ll see.” “Fine. No skin off my nose. I can’t wait to see what happens when a white tiger runs through this nice establishment creating mayhem and havoc. Perhaps they will lose one of their stars because they put their patrons in danger. Maybe your new waitress girlfriend will run away screaming.” I smiled at the thought. Ren affected shock, “Why, Kelsey! Are you jealous?” I snorted in a very unladylike way. “No! Of course not.” He grinned. Nervously, I played with my cloth napkin. “I can’t believe you convinced Mr. Kadam to play along with you like this. It’s shocking, really.” He opened his napkin and winked at the waitress when she came to bring us a basket of rolls. When she left, I challenged, “Are you winking at her? Unbelievable!” He laughed quietly and pulled out a steaming roll, buttered it, and put it on my plate. “Eat, Kelsey,” he commanded. Then he sat forward. “Unless you are reconsidering seeing the view from my lap.” Angrily, I tore apart my roll and swallowed a few pieces before I even noticed how delicious they were-light and flaky with little flecks of orange rind mixed into the dough. I would have eaten another one, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

It's what besties Ann Friedman and Aminatou Sow, hosts of the podcast Call Your Girlfriend, call "Shine Theory"--the idea that another woman's success, or shine, is going to make you look brighter, not duller, by comparison. So instead of competing with awesome women or feeling jealous of their success, surround yourself with them--and bask in their glow.

It's an old story," Julia says, leaning back in her chair. "Only for me, it's new. I went to school for industrial design. All my life I've been fascinated by chairs - I know it sounds silly, but it's true. Form meets purpose in a chair. My parents thought I was crazy, but somehow I convinced them to pay my way to California. To study furniture design. I was all excited at first. It was totally unlike me to go so far away from home. But I was sick of the cold and sick of the snow. I figured a little sun might change my life. So I headed down to L.A. and roomed with a friend of an ex-girlfriend of my brother's. She was an aspiring radio actress, which meant she was home a lot. At first, I loved it. I didn't even let the summer go by. I dove right into my classes. Soon enough, I learned I couldn't just focus on chairs. I had to design spoons and toilet-bowl cleaners and thermostats. The math never bothered me, but the professors did. They could demolish you in a second without giving you a clue if how to rebuild. I spent more and more time in the studio, with other crazed students who guarded their projects like toy-jealous kids. I started to go for walks. Long walks. I couldn't go home because my roommate was always there. The sun was too much for me, so I'd stay indoors. I spent hours in supermarkets, walking aisle to aisle, picking up groceries and then putting them back. I went to bowling alleys and pharmacies. I rode buses that kept their lights on all night. I sat in Laundromats because once upon a time Laundromats made me happy. But now the hum of the machines sounded like life going past. Finally, one night I sat too long in the laundry. The woman who folded in the back - Alma - walked over to me and said, 'What are you doing here, girl?' And I knew that there wasn't any answer. There couldn't be any answer. And that's when I knew it was time to go.

Until now, I haven’t had the best luck with Siddhartha. But every day before today, I was jealous of his girlfriends. I wondered if he would ever think of the girl who found him on the internet and wrote a book about it. Every day before today, I used to look at the bittersweet letters that he never read. And today, when I look back at that time, it feels nice. The guy who was just a daydream. Today he hugged me, and I have a Polaroid of us. It might be his worst, but it’s my storybook New Year’s Eve. — Arya Kashyap

STOP BEING SO FAT AND GROSS YOU BIG FATTY! OR maybe try not to let other people's standards of beauty or femininity or your value as a human being dictate your self-worth. If ANY PART OF YOU has ever been jealous of anorexics or considered extra-medical hormone injections or parasites, or used body-hate to bond with girlfriends, you have bought in. It's near impossible not to, but maybe today TRY not to believe that your VALUE is inextricably linked to some asshat's assessment of your desirability. Fuck that dude. Fuck that CULTURE.

- [ ] STOP BEING SO FAT AND GROSS YOU BIG FATTY! OR maybe try not to let other people's standards of beauty or femininity or your value as a human being dictate your self-worth. If ANY PART OF YOU has ever been jealous of anorexics or considered extra-medical hormone injections or parasites, or used body-hate to bond with girlfriends, you have bought in. It's near impossible not to, but maybe today TRY not to believe that your VALUE is inextricably linked to some asshat's assessment of your desirability. Fuck that dude. Fuck that CULTURE.

So, have you been ostracized from your little crowd of devotees?” “No,” I say automatically. Then I add, “Maybe. But they aren’t my devotees.” “Please. They’re like the Cult of Four.” I can’t help but laugh. “Jealous? Wish you had a Cult of Psychopaths to call your very own?” One of his eyebrows twitches up. “If I was a psychopath, I would have killed you in your sleep by now.” “And added my eyeballs to your eyeball collection, no doubt.” Peter laughs too, and I realize that I am exchanging jokes and conversation with the initiate who stabbed Edward in the eye and tried to kill my girlfriend--if she’s still that. But then, he’s also the Dauntless who helped us end the attack simulation and saved Tris from a horrible death. I am not sure which actions should weigh more heavily on my mind. Maybe I should forget them all, let him begin again. “Maybe you should join my little group of hated people,” says Peter. “So far Caleb and I are the only members, but given how easy it is to get on that girl’s bad side, I’m sure our numbers will grow.” I stiffen. “You’re right, it is easy to get on her bad side. All you have to do is try to get her killed.” My stomach clenches. I almost got her killed. If she had been standing closer to the explosion, she might be like Uriah, hooked up to tubes in the hospital, her mind quiet. No wonder she doesn’t know if she wants to stay with me or not.

Marketa really desired, with both her body and her senses, the women she considered Karel's mistresses. And she also desired them with her head: fulfilling the prophecy of her old math teacher, she wanted - at least to the limits of the disastrous contract - to show herself enterprising and playful, and to astonish Karel. But as soon as she found herself naked with them on the wide daybed, the sensual wanderings immediately vanished from her mind, and seeing her husband was enough to return her to her role, the role of the better one, the one who is wronged, Even when she was with Eva, whom she loved very much and of whom she was not jealous, the presence of the man she loved too well weighed heavily on her, stifling the pleasure of the senses. The moment she removed his head from the body, she felt the strange and intoxicating touch of freedom. That anonymity of the body was a suddenly discovered paradise. With an odd delight, she expelled her wounded and too vigilant soul and was transformed into a simple body without past or memory, but all the more eager and receptive. She tenderly caressed Eva's face, while the headless body moved vigorously on top of her. But here the headless body interrupted his movements and, in a voice that reminded her unpleasantly of Karel's, uttered unbelievably idiotic words: "I'm Bobby Fischer! I'm Bobby Fischer!" It was like being awakened from a dream. And just then, as she lay snuggled against Eva (as the awakening sleeper snuggles against his pillow to hide from the dim first light of day), Eva had asked her, "All right?" and she had consented with a sign, pressing her lips against Eva's. She had always loved her, but today for the first time sh loved her with all her senses, for herself, for her body, and for her skin, becoming intoxicated with this fleshly love as with a sudden revelation. Afterward, while they lay side by side on their stomachs, with their buttocks slightly raised, Marketa could feel on her skin that the infinitely efficient body was again fixing its eyes on hers and at any moment was going to start again making love to them. She tried to ignore the voice talking about seeing beautiful Mrs. Nora, tried simply to be a body hearing nothing while lying pressed between a very soft-skinned girlfriend and some headless man.

Even if these two didn't share the same short dark hair, the same violet eyes, and the same flawless olive skin, I'd know they were related because of their most dominant feature-their habit of staring. "I'm Chloe. This is my friend Emma, who apparently just head-butted your boyfriend Galen. We were in the middle of apologizing." I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to ten-Mississippi, but fifty-Mississippi seems more appropriate. Fifty allows more time to fantasize about ripping one of Chloe's new waves out. "Emma, what's wrong? Your nose isn't bleeding, is it?" She chirps, enjoying herself. Tingles gather at my chin as Galen lifts it with the crook of his finger. "Is your nose bleeding? Let me see," he says. He tilts my head side to side, leans closer to get a good look. And I meet my threshold for embarrassment. Tripping is bad enough. Tripping into someone is much worse. But if that someone has a body that could make sculpted statues jealous-and thinks you've broken your nose on one of his pecs-well, that's when tripping runs a distant second to humane euthanasia. He is clearly surprised when I swat his hand and step away. His girlfriend/relative seems taken aback that I mimic his stance-crossed arms and deep frown. I doubt she has ever met her threshold for embarrassment. "I said I was fine. No blood, no foul." "This is my sister Rayna," he says, as if the conversation steered naturally in that direction. She smiles at me as if forced at knifepoint, the kind of smile that comes purely from manners, like the smile you give your grandmother when she gives you the rotten-cabbage-colored sweater she's been knitting. I think of that sweater now as I return her smile.

She reached under the flowerpot for the key, but before putting it in the lock she said, "Dub? I wonder . . . how come we both acted so weird." Dub, who ordinarily had an answer for everything, was silent. If Allie wasn't mistaken, she saw a faint blush color his neck. That gave her the courage to say, "I think I got so jealous because I thought you liked Pam better. Liked her, you know, for a girlfriend." "Are you serious?" asked Dub, looked surprised "She's nice, but no way." Allie went on, feeling—she couldn't believe it—shy in front of Dub. "But why did it bug me so much? It's not like I'm your girlfriend." She paused and added, "Right?" As soon as she had spoken, she wished she could snatch the words back. What if Dub looked at her as if she were crazy and said again, "No way!" She'd feel like a complete idiot. Dub's blush crept from his neck to his face. "Who said you're not?" Allie laughed happily. "Nobody," she said. They stood grinning at each other for a moment.

Right! You see me as superhuman! That’s some serious pressure.” Amelia laughs a little. “Sometimes it feels good, yeah, that people like how I look and act. But sometimes it’s just so much. I already have a ton of pressure on me from my parents and from myself, so it’s extra hard coming from you. Because we’re equals, me and you. Imperfect equals. And you’ve seen my struggles and you’ve been there right alongside me for the ride. I mean, I was a hot mess when I was trying to figure out if I wanted to have sex with Sid. I couldn’t face my parents over a dinner with my new girlfriend. I sometimes don't have the courage to stick up to people or for myself.” “But those are just normal human things.” “Yeah, exactly! This is my point! You look at me and you see me struggle through things and you root for me regardless, thinking I’m, like, killing it out there in the world, but when it’s you, you don’t cut yourself any slack and you beat yourself up. But I’m a regular person, and so are you,” she says. “And a pretty badass one, too. You’re so good at everything. You get amazing grades and you’re an incredible writer and you’re so smart-sometimes so smart that teachers assume I am, too, just because I’m around you. When I nearly failed my bio test earlier this semester, Mr. O'Donnell told me I should try to be more like you. And you know what? Maybe that’s a shitty thing to say to a student, but I do find myself wishing I could be more like you all the time. Not because I’m inadequate as a person but because humans yearn! Humans want to be better than they are! Humans feel jealous! And I think it’s okay if sometimes I want to be more like you. Who wouldn’t? You’re smart and hilarious and fashionable and fierce and you would do anything for the ones you love. You put up with a lot of shit and you let it light a fire in you and I admire the hell out of that, babe.

went to her workshop three times a week to paint with Kirsten. She rarely frequented the Lark House dining room, preferring to eat out at local restaurants where the owners knew her, or in her apartment, when her daughter-in-law sent the chauffeur around with one of her favorite dishes. Irina kept only basic necessities in her kitchen: fresh fruit, oatmeal, whole-grain bread, honey. Alma and Seth often invited Irina to their ritual Sunday lunch at Sea Cliff, where the family paid the matriarch homage. To Seth, who had previously used any pretext not to arrive before dessert—for even he was unable to consider not putting in an appearance at all—Irina’s presence made the occasion infinitely more appealing. He was still stubbornly pursuing her, but since he was meeting with little success he also went out with previous girlfriends willing to put up with his fickleness. He was bored with them and did not succeed in making Irina jealous. As his grandmother often said and the family often repeated, why waste ammunition on vultures? It was yet another enigmatic saying often used by the Belascos. To Alma, these family reunions began with a pleasant sense of anticipation at seeing her loved ones, particularly her granddaughter, Pauline (she saw Seth frequently enough), but often ended up being a bore, since every topic of conversation became a pretext for getting angry, not from any lack of affection, but out of the bad habit of arguing over trivialities. Seth always looked for ways to challenge or scandalize his parents; Pauline brought to the table yet another cause she had embraced, which she explained in great detail, from genital mutilation to animal slaughterhouses; Doris took great pains to offer her most exquisite culinary experiments, which were veritable banquets, yet regularly ended up weeping in her room because nobody appreciated them; good old Larry meanwhile performed a constant balancing act to avoid quarrels. The grandmother took advantage of Irina to dissipate tension, because the Belascos always behaved in a civilized fashion in front of strangers, even if it was only a humble employee from

I already know you like me. More than like me. So you can play it off as if you don’t feel the same way, but I know the truth, Tiger … It’s cute how you’re trying to act unfazed. “ “Please, I already did the jealous girlfriend thing. I’m not acting unfazed.” “Aww, do you admit you’re my girlfriend. Look at you, all girly and sweet.” She turned back around and scowled and held up her middle finger. “Screw you, Monroe.” He firmly grabbed her wrist and took that middle finger into his mouth. And sucked. “As you wish,” he said with a growl.

The cleaning lady? I thought that you were just kidding to make me jealous. You actually love that fat bitch?” Her voice raised.

From the moment she’d tried to kill me in a jealous rage three nights ago, I decided I was ready for a girlfriend, and I wanted that girl to be Dream.

A man died because a jealous boyfriend went into a fit of rage when he saw his girlfriend grinding her ass on another man’s dick. Such a fucking stupid reason to die.

I could smell like roses and I still wouldn’t give a shit. Wanna know why?” “Why?” Adeline asked, breathlessly. “Because it means I got that way by sharing a bath with my girlfriend. And to share a bath, we both had to be naked. And when we’re naked, good things happen. And every single one of my friends knows exactly what it means when I come into the station smelling like girly orange, and they might not say it, but they’re equally jealous as hell and happy as fuck for me. So yeah, bomb the hell out of the water, beautiful. Bring it.

All desire to laugh fled. How exactly did Strike think that it would cheer Robin up, to know that his girlfriend was thinking of buying a ludicrously expensive flat? Or was he about to announce (Robin's fragile mood began to collapse in on itself) that he and Elin were moving in together? Like a film flickering rapidly before her eyes she saw the upstairs flat empty, Strike living in luxury, herself in a tiny box room on the edge of London, whispering into her mobile so that her vegan landlady did not hear her.

I'm sorry, Gabrielle,” Drew laughed. “I'm just giving Braden a hard time.” He sat down in a chair next to us and sipped a Coke. “He's just jealous.” “Damn right I'm jealous. You get to sleep with your girlfriend tonight and I'm going out with my sister. There would be something wrong with me if I weren't jealous, dude.” “Stop thinking about my sex life.” “Just make sure you don't remind me of it later. Don’t forget that my room is right next to yours and the walls are thin.

Wyatt blows out a breath and moves to sit on the bed. “Crystal was my fiancée.” “Fiancée? You were engaged? As in, you loved someone so much you asked her to be your wife?” What the hell, Dolly? Calm your tits, and stop acting like a jealous girlfriend.

I’ve no doubt, in retrospect, that Mick was very jealous of me having other male friends. And I’ve no doubt that that was more of a difficulty than women or anything else. It took me a long time to realize that any male friend I had would automatically get the cold shoulder, or at least a suspicious reception, from Mick. Any guys I got close to would tell me, sooner or later, “I don’t think Mick likes me.” Mick and I were very tight friends and we’d been through a lot. But there is a weird possessiveness about him. It was only a vague aura to me, but other people pointed it out. Mick doesn’t want me to have any friends except him. Maybe his exclusivity is bound up with his own siege mentality. Or maybe he thinks he’s trying to protect me: “What does that asshole want from Keith?” But quite honestly, I can’t put my finger on it. People he thought were getting close to me, he would preempt them, or try to, as if they were girlfriends rather than just friends.

But she didn’t have any girlfriends because they were all jealous of her. As for the guys, they considered her the hottest girl in school.

you live next door to a really cute boy from your class, but you also become his girlfriend!” “Cassie!” It was my turn to squeal. “I’m not his girlfriend. We’re just friends!” “Friends don’t kiss each other. Twice!” Cassie replied with an adamant shake of her head. “And besides, I’m sure he’ll probably be your boyfriend soon.” My spine tingled at the thought: Tessa Hawkins… Sam Worthington’s girlfriend. My mother would have an absolute fit! No, it wasn’t possible. We’d just have to keep it low-key, for the time being, at least. What would my friends at school think? Not caring what they thought, I pushed that issue aside. “I’m not even sure if he really likes me,” I added with a frown. “What?” Cassie screeched. “How could he not like you? I mean, look at you! You’re so pretty and so nice and so everything… plus, why would he kiss you if he didn’t like you?” “Well… like I said… maybe I kissed him. Maybe he wasn’t planning to kiss me at all.” “Tessa, you’re overthinking it. You’ve just kissed a really good-looking boy. A boy who lives right next door to you. Oh my gosh, I am so jealous right now.

of course, I want you to be my girlfriend, but I'm not gonna ask you just because you're jealous or crying. I don't want to enter a relationship until I'm sure because I don't do short-term, and right now, we have a lot going on. I feel like we keep butting heads today.

But this time around, Jane was determined to do everything right. She wouldn’t be jealous, not of Aggie, not of Duncan’s legion of ex-girlfriends, not of the new waitress at Robert’s with the long, dark eyelashes, not of the girl at the video store who carried her breasts in front of her as though they were a couple of large cupcakes. She would not be demanding, not of Duncan’s time, not of his attention, not of his commitment, not of his money. (He didn’t have any, so that part would be easy.) She would be all the things she had always meant to be in their relationship and somehow never managed to be: wise and cool and levelheaded and regal and hopelessly alluring, like a single ball bearing gleaming on a black velvet background, or maybe a Swedish nanny. If that meant inviting Aggie and Gary to Taco Tuesday, so be it.

Devlin said, “So…” “So?” “You know what I’m going to ask,” he said with a huge grin. “What?” “Come on, you can tell me.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Really? I think you do.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t. What are you asking about?” “You and Alex. What’s going on?” “Huh? Nothing! We’re just friends.” “Are you sure? I saw you take her to the dance floor.” “So what? Friends dance, don’t they?” “And you walked her home.” Omg… this must be what Alex was concerned about. “Naw, we’re just friends,” I explained. “I don’t think so. I think I see a bit of magic going on there.” I shook my head. “Naw, she would never be interested in me.” “Oh? But are you interested in her?” “What?! N-no! Of course not.” “Really?” We arrived at our front doors. “I mean, she’s attractive and all…” I said. “Yeah, she’s beautiful. I think everyone is attracted to her.” “Yourself included.” Devlin chuckled. “Yeah, because she’s so pretty. So, you must be attracted to her, too.” “N-no-no! I mean, she’s just a friend.” “A very pretty friend,” Devlin said and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.” “Secret?! There is no secret!” “Sure, there isn’t,” Devlin said as he wore a sly smile. “Let’s just hope your other girlfriend didn’t see that little event, or else she might get jealous.” “Omg… other girlfriend? What are you talking about?” “Oh, nothing! Good night, Steve!” Devlin jumped into his house and shut his door.   “Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave!

Ash, you were my girl for years. But before that, we were friends. The best of friends. I should have never let one snag in the road cause me to turn on you like I did. It was wrong. You took all the blame for something that wasn’t entirely your fault. It was Beau’s and it was mine.” “Yours? How?” “I knew Beau loved you. I’d seen the way he looked at you. I also knew you loved him more than you loved me. You two had a secret bond I didn’t get to be a part of. I was jealous. Beau was my cousin and you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I wanted you for myself. So I asked you out, never once going to Beau first. Never once asking him how he felt about it. You accepted, and just like magic I broke up the bond you two shared. You guys never talked anymore. There were no more late-night roof talks and no more bailing y’all out of trouble. Beau was my cousin and you were my girlfriend. It was as if your friendship had never been. I was selfish and ignored the guilt until it went away. Only the times I saw him watching you with that pained, needy expression did the guilt stir in my gut. It was mixed with fear. Fear you’d see that I’d done and go to him. Fear I’d lose you.” I reached down and ran my hand over his hair. “I loved you, too. I wanted to be good enough for you. I wanted to be the good girl you deserved.” “Ash, you were perfect just the way you were. I was the one who let you change. I liked the change. It’s one of the many reasons I feared I’d lose you. Deep down I knew one day that free spirit you’d quenched would fight to be released. It happened. And the fact it happened with Beau doesn’t surprise me in the least.” “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I never meant to hurt you. I made a mess of things. You aren’t going to have to watch Beau and me together. I’m stepping out of both of your lives. You can get back what was lost.” Sawyer reached up and grabbed my hand. “Don’t do that, Ash. He needs you.” “No, it’s what he wants too. Today he hardly acknowledged me. He only spoke to me when he was making a point to everyone else that I was to be left alone.” Sawyer let out a sad laugh. “He won’t last long. He’s never been able to ignore you. Not even when he knew I was watching him. Right now he’s dealing with a lot. And he’s dealing with it alone. Don’t push him away.” I jumped down from the branch and hugged Sawyer. “Thank you. Your acceptance means the world to me. But right now he needs you. You’re his brother. I’ll just be hindrance to you two dealing with everything.” Sawyer reached out and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “Even if I was wrong to take you without a thought to Beau’s feelings, I can’t make myself regret it. I’ve had three amazing years with you, Ash.” I didn’t know what to say. I’d had good times too, but I did regret choosing the wrong Vincent boy. He gave me one last sad smile, then dropped my hair and walked away.

How's your girlfriend? Sorry I didn't stay for an introduction." "She's not my girlfriend. We worked together on a downsizing." Layla lifted an eyebrow. "What exactly did you downsize that involved the removal of your pants?

He gave me a smoldering look.  “You know why.  You keep trying to belittle what we have, but you need to understand that it’s as new to me as it is to you.  I have a past.  A wildly sordid past.  I can’t change it.  I would if I could.  You are going to run into a lot of my ex-lovers.  That’s an unfortunate fact.  It will be a lot less painful for you if you can just get it into your head that none of them were anything but a fuck to me.  And fucking was nothing to me before I met you.  Sex was a bodily function to me before I met you.  That’s why I call this making love.  It means something to me.”   “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you, never even considered the idea.  I’m sure it sounds callous, but no woman has ever been anything to me beyond a fuck, a sub, or a friend, occasionally all three, though never all of them for long.  They all knew the score.  I was brutally honest with every single one of them, without exception.  You are the one that I want, the one that I need.  So getting upset about my past, or feeling jealous of women I’ve been with, is unwarranted.

jealous girlfriend. But this explained everything, including his sudden about-face. “Bailey?” Zara said. “Earth to Bailey?” I stared at the screen, the display blurring. “Hold on a sec.” Denial creeped in, tempting me like a siren’s call. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe The Sideline fabricated the story like they were sometimes known to do. It had to be fake, right? Luke would never do that to me. At least, not again. I took a screenshot and sent it to Luke. Bailey: Care to comment? Three gray dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared. Disappeared…and didn’t return. Five minutes later, I was on the dance

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