Lara And Aren Quotes

Don’t let it happen to you, Lara Jean. Don’t get too serious to where things can’t go back. Be in love with Peter if you want, but be careful with your heart. Things feel like they’ll be forever, but they aren’t. Love can go away, or people can, without even meaning to. Nothing is guaranteed.

I'm fine Aren." "I know you are. And I know you can do it yourself. But let me do it for you anyway.

Don't let it happen to you, Lara Jean. Don't get too serious to where things can't go back. Be in love with Peter if you want, but be careful with your heart. Things feels like they'll be forever, but they aren't. Love can go away, or people can, without even meaning to. Nothing is guaranteed.

Over time the impossible standards we set for ourselves become the measuring stick for our worth. We start to believe that if we don’t measure up, we aren’t enough. We begin to feel worthless.

The only thing I'll say is, make your own friends. Peter will be making tons of friends because of lacrosse, and the people he'll be friends with aren't necessarily the kinds of people you'd pick to be friends with. So make your own friends. Find your people. (Margot to Lara Jean)

Well, I’m definitely wearing a flower crown on my head. I don’t care if you say it’s played out.” Flatly she says, “You can’t wear a flower crown.” “Why not?” She spits out toothpaste. “You’re too old. That’s for flower girls.” “No, you aren’t envisioning it correctly. I wasn’t thinking baby’s breath. I was thinking little pink and peach roses, with a lot of greenery. Pale green greenery, you know that kind?” She shakes her head, resolute. “We aren’t fairies in a forest. It’s too cutesy.

Lara’s stomach flipped as Aren stared her down. Challenged her. “We’re going to pay a visit to Maridrina.

Lara’s pregnant. There’s going to be another Kertell for you to watch over, you old bastard.” Jor gaped at them, then flung his arms around the pair of them, pounding Aren on the back. “Let’s hope the little bugger inherits their mother’s brains, because I won’t survive another idiot like you!

The next morning, on the way to school in Peter’s car, I steal a look at his profile. “I like how you’re so smooth,” I say. “Like a baby.” “I could grow a beard if I wanted to,” he says, touching his chin. “A thick one.” Fondly I say, “No, you couldn’t. But maybe one day, when you’re a man.” He frowns. “I am a man. I’m eighteen!” I scoff, “You don’t even pack your own lunches. Do you even know how to do laundry?” “I’m a man in all the ways that count,” he boasts, and I roll my eyes. “What would you do if you were drafted to go to war?” I ask. “Uh…aren’t college kids given a pass on that? Does the draft even still exist?” I don’t know the answers to either of these questions, so I barrel forward. “What would you do if I got pregnant right now?” “Lara Jean, we’re not even having sex. That would be the immaculate conception.” “If we were?” I press. He groans. “You and your questions!

Margot, can I talk to you for a minute?” Margot pretends to be busy counting out silverware. “Sure, what’s up, Daddy?” Daddy glances at me, and I look back down at the tomatoes. I am staying for moral support. “I would prefer if Ravi stayed in the guest room.” Margot bites her lip. “Why?” There’s an awkward silence before Daddy says, “I’m just not comfortable--” “But Daddy, we’re in college…You do realize we’ve shared a bed before, right?” Wryly he says, “I had my suspicions, but thank you for that confirmation.” “I’m almost twenty years old. I’ve been living away from home, thousands of miles away, for nearly two years.” Margot glances at me and I shrink down. I should’ve left when I had the chance. “Lara Jean and I aren’t little kids anymore--” “Hey, don’t bring me into this,” I say, as jokingly as I can.

Do you really think my feet smell?” I don’t. I love the way he smells after a lacrosse game--like sweat and grass and him. But I love to tease, to see that unsure look cross his face for just half a beat. “Well, I mean, on game days…” I say. Then Peter attacks me again, and we’re wrestling around, laughing, when Kitty walks in, balancing a tray with a cheese sandwich and a glass of orange juice. “Take it upstairs,” she says, sitting down on the floor. “This is a public area.” Disentangling myself, I give her a glare. “We aren’t doing anything private, Katherine.” “Your sister says my feet stink,” Peter says, pointing his foot in her direction. “She’s lying, isn’t she?” She deflects it with a pop of her elbow. “I’m not smelling your foot.” She shudders. “You guys are kinky.” I yelp and throw a pillow at her. She gasps. “You’re lucky you didn’t knock over my juice! Daddy will kill you if you mess up the rug again.” Pointedly she says, “Remember the nail-polish-remover incident?” Peter ruffles my hair. “Clumsy Lara Jean.” I shove him away from me. “I’m not clumsy. You’re the one who tripped over his own feet trying to get to the pizza the other night at Gabe’s.” Kitty bursts into giggles and Peter throws a pillow at her. “You guys need to stop ganging up on me!” he yells.

Style” comes on and we all go crazy, screaming in each other’s faces and jumping up and down. Peter goes craziest of all. He keeps asking me if I’m having fun. He only asks out loud once, but with his eyes he asks me again and again. They are bright and hopeful, alight with expectation. With my eyes I tell him, Yes yes yes I am having fun. We’re starting to get the hang of slow dancing, too. Maybe we should take a ballroom-dancing class when I get to UVA so we can actually get good at it. I tell him this, and fondly he says, “You always want to take things to the next level. Next-level chocolate chip cookies.” “I gave up on those.” “Next-level Halloween costumes.” “I like for things to feel special.” At this, Peter smiles down at me and I say, “It’s just too bad we’ll never dance cheek to cheek.” “Maybe we could order you some dancing stilts.” “Oh, you mean high heels?” He snickers. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as ten-inch heels.” I ignore him. “And it’s too bad your noodle arms aren’t strong enough to pick me up.” Peter lets out a roar like an injured lion and swoops me up and swings me around, just like I knew he would. It’s a rare thing, to know someone so well, whether they’ll pivot left or right. Outside of my family, I think he might be the person I know best of all.

How are you enjoying Thorne Abbey?" Cal took a long sip of orange juice before replying. "It's great." I don't think it was possible for Cal to sound less enthusiastic, but either Lara didn't pick up on it, or she didn't care, because she sounded awfully perky as she said, "Well, I'm sure the two of you are welcoming the chance to spend some time together." Cal and I both stared at her. I tried to will her to stop talking, but apparently that power wasn't in my repertoire. Lara flashed us a conspiratorial grin. "Nothing makes me happier than seeing an arrangement that's a real love match." All the awkwardness that had vanished between me and Cal yesterday seemed to swoop back into the room with an audible whoosh. I dared a quick look in his direction, but Cal, as usual, was doing his whole Stoic Man thing. His expression didn't even waver. But then I noticed his hand tightening around his glass. "Cal and I aren't...we don't...there's not any, um, love," I finally said. "We're friends." Lara frowned, confused. "Oh. I'm sorry." She turned to Cal, eyebrows raised. "I just assumed that was the reason you turned down the position with the Council." Cal shook his head,and I think he was about to say something, but I beat him to it. "What position with the Council?" "It was nothing," he said. Lara gave a delicate snort before saying to me, "After his term at Hecate ended, Mr. Callahan was offered a position as the Council's chief bodyguard. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you initially accept the assignment?" she asked Cal. It was the closest I'd ever seen Cal to angry. Of course, on him, that meant that his brow furrowed a little. "I did, but-" he started to say. "But then you heard Sophie was coming to Hecate, and you decided to stay," Lara finished, and her lips twisted in the triumphant smile I'd seen on Mrs. Casnoff's face dozens of times. I stood there, frozen in place, as she turned back to me and said, "Mr. Callahan gave up a chance to travel the world with the council so that he could be little more than a janitor on Graymalkin Island. For you.

Peter still sits in front of me in chemistry. I didn't know you could miss someone even more acutely when they're a few feet away. Maybe it's because he doesn't look at me, not even once. I didn't fully comprehend what a big part of my life he'd become. He'd become so ... familiar to me. And now he's just gone. Not gone, still here, just not available to me, which might be even worse. For a minute there it was really good. It was really, really good. Wasn't it good? Maybe really, really good things aren't meant to last for too long; maye that's what makes them all the more sweet, the temporariness of them. Maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better. It's working, barely. Barely is enough for now.

Peter still sits in front of me in chemistry. I didn't know you could miss someone even more acutely when they're only a few feet away. Maybe it's because he doesn't look at me, not even once. I didn't fully comprehend what a big part of my life he'd become. He'd become so ... familiar to me. And now he's just gone. Not gone, still here, just not available to me, which might be even worse. For a minute there it was really good. It was really, really good. Wasn't it good? Maybe really, really good things aren't meant to last for too long; maybe that's what makes them all the more sweet, the temporariness of them. Maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better. It's working, barely. Barely is enough for now

I always wondered why you stopped hanging out with us.” Was I on five or six? “Peter! You made me lose my count again!” “I have that effect on women.” I roll my eyes at him and he grins back at me, but before he can say anything else, I yell, “Kitty! Get down here!” “I’m working--” “Peter’s here!” I know that will get her. In five seconds flat, Kitty’s running into the kitchen. She skids to a stop, all of a sudden shy. “Why are you here?” she asks him. “To pick up Lara Jean. Why aren’t you helping?” “I was running an experiment. Wanna help me?” I answer for him. “Sure, he’ll help you.” To Peter I say, “You’re distracting me. Go help Kitty.” “I don’t know if you want my help, Katherine. See, I’m really distracting to women. I make them lose their count.” Peter winks at her and I make a gagging sound. “Why don’t you stay down here and help us bake?” “Bo-ring!” Kitty turns tail and runs back up the stairs. “Don’t you dare try to sprinkle or frost when it’s all over!” I yell. “You haven’t earned the right!

Okay, then. Let’s win you a wish.” He takes out his phone and pulls up Google Maps. “I looked up Gen’s address before I came over here. I think you’re right--we should take our time, assess the situation. Not go in half-cocked.” “Mm-hm.” I’m in a sort of dream state; it’s hard to concentrate. John Ambrose McClaren wants to make it unequivocally clear. I snap out of it when Kitty jostles her way back into the living room, balancing a glass of orange soda, the tub of red pepper hummus, and a bag of pita chips. She makes her way over to the couch and plonks down right between us. Holding out the bag, she asks, “Do you guys want some?” “Sure,” John says, taking a chip. “Hey, I hear you’re pretty good at schemes. Is that true?” Warily she says, “What makes you say that?” “You’re the one who sent out Lara Jean’s letters, aren’t you?” Kitty nods. “Then I’d say you’re pretty good at schemes.” “I mean, yeah. I guess.” “Awesome. We need your help.” Kitty’s ideas are a bit too extreme--like slashing Genevieve’s tires, or throwing a stink bomb in her house to smoke her out, but John writes down every one of Kitty’s suggestions, which does not go unnoticed by Kitty. Very little does.

The next morning, I sneeze as I’m putting on my coat, and Stormy raises one pencil-drawn eyebrow at me. “Catch a cold playing in the snow last night with Johnny?” I squirm. I’d hoped she wouldn’t bring it up. The last thing I want to do is discuss her midnight rendezvous with Mr. Morales! We watched Stormy go back to her apartment and then waited half an hour before John went back to Mr. Morales’s. Weakly, I say, “Sorry we snuck out. It was so early, and we couldn’t fall asleep, so we thought we’d play in the snow.” Stormy waves a hand. “It’s exactly what I hoped would happen.” She winks at me. “That’s why I made Johnny stay with Mr. Morales, of course. What’s the fun in anything if there aren’t a few roadblocks to spice things up?” In awe, I say, “You’re so crafty!” “Thank you, darling.” She’s quite pleased with herself. “You know, he’d make a great first husband, my Johnny. So, did you French him, at least?” My face burns. “No!” “You can tell me, honey.” “Stormy, we didn’t kiss, and even if we had, I wouldn’t discuss it with you.” Stormy’s nose goes thin and haughty. “Well, isn’t that so very selfish of you!” “I have to go, Stormy. My dad’s waiting for me out front. See you!” As I hurry out the door, she calls out, “Don’t you worry, I’ll get it out of Johnny! See you both at the party, Lara Jean!” When I step outside, the sun is shining bright and much of the snow has already melted away. It’s almost like last night was a dream.

Then his sister was in front of him. “No no no!” “It’s not that bad,” he told her. “I just need to pull it out.” “Aren, don’t let him pull it out.” Lara’s eyes were full of murder as she stood, moving past him at a run.

She closed her eyes, her face clenching for a moment as though she were in pain, then she opened them and nodded. “It changes everything.” Hope, and something else, something uniquely reserved for her, flooded his heart and, taking Lara by the hand, Aren led her back to the boats at a run.

As he had indicated, Hunter left early the next day. He came to Lara's room just as she began to awaken, the morning sun slipping through a space between the closed drapes and stealing across her pillow. She started as she realized that she wasn't alone in the room, and jerked the covers high under her chin. "Hunter," she said, her voice raspy from sleep. She shrank deep into her pillow as he sat on the edge of the bed. A smile touched his dark face. "I couldn't leave without seeing you one last time." "How long will you be gone?" She blinked uneasily, not daring to move as Hunter reached for the sable length of her braid. "No more than a week, I expect." He pulled the braid across his palm as if enjoying the texture against his skin, and laid it back on the pillow with care. "You look so snug and warm," he murmured. "I wish I could join you." The thought of him climbing under the covers with her made her heart contract in alarm. "I wish you a safe trip," she said breathlessly. "Good-bye." Hunter grinned at her eagerness for him to leave. "Aren't you going to give me a farewell kiss?" He leaned over her, smiling into her startled face, and waited for a reply. When she remained silent, he laughed softly, his coffee-scented breath fanning over her chin. "All right. We'll put it on account. Goodbye, sweet.

We go to the parlor on Stormy’s floor to sit and thaw out. There’s only one reading light on, so it’s dim and quiet. All the residents are in their apartments for the night, it seems. It feels strange to be here without Stormy and everyone, like being at school at night. We sit on the fancy French-style couch, and I take off my boots so my feet can get warm. I wriggle my toes to get the feeling back. “Too bad we can’t start a fire,” John says, stretching his arms and looking at the fireplace. “Yeah, it’s fake,” I say. “There must be some sort of nursing-home law about fireplaces, I bet…” My voice trails off as I see Stormy, in her silky kimono, tiptoeing out of her apartment and down the hall. To Mr. Morales’s apartment. Oh my God. “What?” John asks, and I slap my hand over his mouth. I duck down low in my seat and slide all the way off the couch to the floor. I pull him down next to me. We stay down until I hear the door click closed. He whispers, “What is it? What did you see?” Sitting up, I whisper back, “I don’t know if you want to know.” “Dear God. What? Just tell me.” “I saw Stormy in her red kimono, sneaking into Mr. Morales’s apartment.” John chokes. “Oh my God. That’s…” I give him sympathetic eyes. “I know. Sorry.” Shaking his head, he leans back against the couch, his legs stretched out long in front of him. “Wow. This is rich. My great-grandmother has a way more active sex life than I do.” I can’t resist asking, “So then…I guess, have you not had sex with that many girls?” Hastily I say, “Sorry, I’m a very inquisitive person.” I scratch my cheek. “Some might say nosy. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “No, I’ll answer. I’ve never had sex with anybody.” “What!” I can’t believe it. How can that be? “Why are you so shocked?” “I don’t know, I guess I thought all guys were doing it.” “Well, I’ve only had one girlfriend, and she was religious, so we never did it, which was fine. Anyway, trust me, not all guys are having sex. I’d say the majority aren’t.” John pauses. “What about you?” “I’ve never done it either,” I say. He frowns, confused. “Wait, I thought you and Kavinsky…” “No. Why would you think that?” Oh. The video. I swallow. I thought maybe he was the one person who hadn’t seen it. “So you’ve seen the hot tub video, huh.” John hesitates and then, says, “Yeah. I didn’t know it was you at first, not until after the time capsule party when I figured out you guys were together. Some guy showed it to me in homeroom, but I didn’t look at it that closely.” “We were just kissing,” I say, ducking my head. “I wish you hadn’t seen it.” “Why? Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me at all.” “I guess I liked the thought of you looking at me a certain kind of way. I feel like people see me differently now, but you still thought of me as the old Lara Jean. Do you know what I mean?” “That is how I see you,” John says. “You’re still the same to me. I’ll always see you that way, Lara Jean.

Some ADD adults adapt to the work world by allowing themselves to be pitifully underemployed. Rather than find a great match for their skills and interests, they will work at a job far below their natural abilities. In this way, their inevitable screwups and difficulties with following directions will be balanced by being more capable than those they work with. This strategy has its own set of painful problems. For one thing, knowing you could do and be more can lead to an enduring agony. For another, you may find yourself falling prey to negative feedback from people who aren’t as smart as you are. Another strategy ADD adults sometimes adopt is to overcompensate, working inhuman hours to try to avoid possible criticism. It can be shattering when even this strategy doesn’t prevent criticism from heading your way, whether from colleagues, bosses, or clients. Another problem with this strategy is that it can take a tremendous toll on your personal relationships.