Logan Quotes

People say that life is the thing, but I prefer reading.

So many things are possible as long as you don't know they are impossible.

Lorris ? As in Logan and Morris ? They fucking Brangelina’d themselves?

It was their secret, a secret meant for just the two of them, and she'd never been able to imagine how it would sound coming from someone else. But, somehow, Logan made it sound just right.

Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

Where's Lucy?" I asked the others. "At the farmhouse," Nicholas said with grim satisfaction. "How'd you manage that?" "She's in a closet." Solange rolled her eyes. I stared at Nicholas. "You locked your girlfriend in a closet? Smooth." "She's going to eviscerate him," Quinn said cheerfully.

What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.

You deserve someone better than me. Someone young and idealistic…someone who can experience things for the first time along with you. I'm not always kind, and I have more faults than I'd care to name. All I can promise is that I'll want you until my last breath.

I can do this, Logan," she said confidently. "Kala trained me for this." "What if something goes wrong? I can't exactly wave a magic wand over you. I'm not Harry Potter." "Who?" "Never mind.

Don't waste your time obsessing over stupid actions of stupid people

Are you OK?" I asked. "I think so." Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. "But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.

When we see religion split into so many thousand of sects, and I may say Christianity itself divided into its thousands also, who are disputing, anathematizing and where the laws permit burning and torturing one another for abstractions which no one of them understand, and which are indeed beyond the comprehension of the human mind, into which of the chambers of this Bedlam would a man wish to thrust himself. [Letter to George Logan, 12 November 1816]

Baby, we have no choice of what color we're born or who our parents are or whether we're rich or poor. What we do have is some choice over what we make of our lives once we're here.

(Lucy to Isabeau)" “Cool.” She tilted her head. “You don’t look crazy.” “You’re like a runaway train,” Logan groaned at her. “Can’t you shut her up?” he asked his brother pleadingly. “How?” Nicholas said somewhat helplessly. “Kiss her, you idiot.

It's hard at times, but it makes a kid strong in ways that most people can't understand. Teaches them that even though people are left behind, new ones will inevitable take their place; that every place has something good - and bad - to offer. It makes a kid grow up fast.

Logan, don’t be an ass.” “I have been sleeping in mud. I’m covered in dirt and blood and these were my favorite pants before I landed in raccoon shit.

Before she knew it, Remy found herself daydreaming about Logan holding her tight against his lean, muscular body.

We can be heroes just for one day

I run to run." ~ Sam

What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.

(Ren's) eyes were sad but resigned. “And where will you go?” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my reply. “I don’t know.” “Please don’t do this,” he whispered. “Come back with me. We’ll talk to Logan; there has to be an explanation. The Keepers need us; we’re the alphas. We’ll figure this out. They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.

So… what’s your truth, Logan?” Logan stared at him so intently that Tate wondered what was going on inside his head before he replied, “I think you are,” leaving Tate speechless.

You are such a tease, Remy—you just love to lead every guy on. Don’t you? But you’re the one who’s going to get hurt. Logan is a player. Trust me, I know him and his kind.

It'll be okay, I promise. No matter what I see or feel. You'll still be Logan and I'll still be your Gypsy girl.

The list of scars my students have sustained at the hand of your daughter grows longer each week. Poor Logan Hochspring's arm will forever carry an imprint of her dental records!" "You bit him?" Lex's father said. "He called me a wannabe vampire. What was I supposed to do?" "Oh, I don't know--maybe not bite him?

Logan?' 'Yes?' I pulled my clothes back on even though the fabric stuck to my wounds. So much for trying to keep them clean. 'How did you know it wasn’t really me?' 'Are you kidding? Your eyeballs could be on fire and you wouldn’t bat your lashes at me like that.

Any more packages for Solange?” “Twelve letters, three packages, and a box of puppies.” I winced. “Puppies?” “They’re fine. Isabeau took them all.” “Good. Who eats puppies?” I shook my head. “Yeah, Isabeau swore in French. A lot.” “Hot.” “Yeah, Logan nearly went cross-eyed.” "Chapter 12

Girls don’t like being called cute or adorable, so I guess we’re even,” Remy said and winked at Logan.

Aurora?” “Logan?” He poked his head in and gawked. “He handcuffed you?” “Nah, it’s my latest fashion statement.

You had lots of visitors, but they were all quiet." "Oh real funny. Tease the blind man." ~Trella to Logan, pg. 114-115

She grabbed his arm. "Let it be, son!" she cried. "That child ain't hurt!" "Not hurt! You look into her eyes and tell me she ain't hurt!

Mason slid down beside me and Logan curled an arm around my shoulder. He drawled against my cheek, "It'll throw them off. Their visionary senses will tell them we're screwing and they'll get confused." His hand slid down towards my breast.

I'll never give up. You have my heart, my soul, my everything. When you're ready, I'll be here." -Logan

Love is not control, Logan. Love is partnership. Friendship. A wise man once said, 'If you want to be loved, be lovable.

As Logan walked towards her, he smiled as if reading her mind and opened his arms.

You won't hurt me. I know you won't." Logan said. "How can you be so sure?" I whispered. "Because you're that Gypsy girl, and I'm the bad-boy Spartan. And I think it's time we were finally together, don't you?

I know you're worried," Logan said. "You think the second I sign a deal, I'll turn into some kind of man-slut." He put his hands over mine, pressing my palms against his chest. "You've always been the only one, and you always will be.

The truth is, who wouldn't fall for you, when you are like the brightest star on the darkest night? You shine with a love as big as the galaxy.

because the thing is, you don’t fall in love with your best friends girl

I don't think anything, or anyone, is ever going to keep me away from you. I love you way too much. You're my heart, my world, my light.

Change back to your ugly self before I change your face for you,” Logan said, Silver Frost.

He realized something was going on between Logan and me. I wish he'd clue me in on exactly what it was, because I had no idea.

It's tough out there, boy, and as long as there are people, there’s gonna be somebody trying to take what you got and trying to drag you down. It's up to you whether you let them or not.

It was like someone in a suit walked up to me and gave me a certificate, which stated “Roxanne Giselle Logan, Your Life is Fucked”.

I’ll give you this, Spartan. You sure can kiss. Feel free to lay one on me anytime you want to." “Well, I do aim to please,” he drawled. “You should see what I can do with my hands. And other parts of my body.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You’ve been cut open like a fish, there’s a psycho-killer Reaper after us, and you’re still hitting me up for sex?” Logan shrugged, but the devilish light didn’t fade from his gaze. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.

If I die, I just want you to know that you have never looked hotter than you do right now, and that is the only reason I’m about to risk my life.” Tate raised a hand, and before he shut the visor, he promised, “I’ll look even hotter in fifteen minutes when I’m naked. So, quit bitching, and get on the bike, Logan.

Very possibly this was the night my white-knight complex, as Solange put it, would get me killed. Someone had better write a poem about it. It was only fair.

A flower blooms best in a happy pot.

Lachlan: "why are you crying, pretty girl?" Logan: " Dude, you're always stealing my game

All right.” Lucy shouldered her way to my side and made a waving motion as if they were annoying flies. “Shoo!” She narrowed her eyes. “I said shoo.” They dispersed, mostly startled into moving. Only Logan remained, leaning casually against the wall. “Darling, I’m not some insect to be chased away.” “Darling?” She snorted amiably. “You’re not ninety years old, either.” He straightened. “I’m charming,” he informed her. “And women like endearments.

Logan shot to his feet. "I can't keep quiet anymore. You all are stupid idiots if you think that. Don't you know her? Don't you know Mason? My god, I'm embarrassed to call you ass-dults!

There are two things to aim at in life: first, to get what you want; and, after that, to enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second.

No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you." "Promise?" I asked in a shaky voice. Logan's eyes burned with icy determination. "Promise.

I also like that.” “What?” Logan exhaled. “How much you want me. It’s a fucking rush. The way you watch me, and look at me is so shameless.

I've needed someone like you for a long time. Now that I have you, no one is going to take you from me. Logan to Madeline

You know he feels everything, right here. In his heart. And he loves, fiercely with this passion and emotion that's all Logan. Every part of him. He gives you every single piece.

Logan,” one of them drawled. “Your technique’s slipping if you need dogs to keep them from running away.” ----------- “Why are you on the floor?” “Hypnos,” I said. Quinn snorted. “Dude, Hypnos and dogs? I thought you were the one who was supposed to be good with the girls, Darcy?

Tie the knot with me. Be safe with me. Reckless with me. Be who you are with me. Be my wife, Rachel—marry me.” ~ Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint

There are things you can't back down on, things you gotta take a stand on. But it's up to you to decide what them things are. You have to demand respect in this world, ain't nobody just gonna hand it to you. How you carry yourself, what you stand for--that's how you gain respect. But, little one, ain't nobody's respect worth more than your own.

You also would love to hang out with Logan. And don’t even try to deny, you think Logan is super-hot. I know you. You like him, and he likes you. He was insanely worried about you last night. He’s either head over heels for you or he’s your guardian angel. He was insanely worried about you last night. If I didn’t know you had just met, I would swear he was in love with you.” Meredith said in an excited tone.

Then I thought of reading—the nice and subtle happiness of reading. This was enough, this joy not dulled by Age, this polite and unpunishable vice, this selfish, serene, life-long intoxication.

Gage opens the door. I’m not sure whether he gets out or Logan yanks him into the street, but a fight erupts. Full throttle kicks to the balls

Logan gave me a sultry kiss that should have fogged the windows.

Love me?” Madeline asked with a faint smile. “It used to be love.” He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. “Now there's no word for it.” “You once told me that you thought love was a weakness.” “I was wrong,” he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth. “I've discovered it's my only strength.

I was a perfect gentlemen." Logan snorts. "Well, that's a first." "Fuck you very much. I happen to be skilled in the art of gentlemanry." "That's not an art. Or a work." Logan rolls his eyes.

Logan stopped and gazed skyward as the kite began to soar above them, and when he clapped his hands at Ben's obvious joy, she was strucked by the simple truth that sometimes the most ordinary things could be made extraordinary, simply by doing them with the right people.

Logan reached out and caught my shoulders when I started to leave. He pulled me back against his chest and enfolded his arms over my chest. "Ah, our little sister, trying to be all nice and saintly." Mason snorted and opened the door. "Saints don't set cars on fire." We all piled out behind him and Logan chuckled. "There's that, yeah.

Sometimes it's just timing, Logan. Two hearts can beat as one, even if they aren't synced. Maybe that's what it was with you two. Maybe you just need to find the right rhythm, the right timing. Maybe now's that time for you guys

Remy glanced up and found herself staring into Logan’s eyes. She was lost to his stare and forgot that anyone else was around. Again, that feeling of protectiveness washed over her, and this time, something else. There was also a sense of familiarity when she looked into his eyes.

He leaned in. “Kiss me, one last time.” I called up a distant memory of his lips against mine. But this time, I kept my eyes open. When he pulled back, Logan passed his hand over my hair. “Don’t forget me, okay?

Finally, a bit of luck. Rat bastard,' I hissed down at Montmartre. 'Mangy dog of a scurvy goat.' 'That doesn’t even make sense,' Isabeau murmured. 'Feels good though. Try it.' She narrowed her eyes at the top of Montmartre’s perfectly groomed hair. 'Balding donkey’s ass.' 'Nice.' 'Sniveling flea-bitten rabid monkey droppings.' 'Clearly, you’re a natural.

Honestly?” Logan shrugged. “I didn’t know it could kill me. If I’d ever heard that, I forgot it a long time ago. But I knew it was dangerous.” “Then why take the risk?” Stone asked. Logan turned his head to look at me. “Because she was worth it.

Roll of thunder hear my cry   Over the water bye and bye   Ole man comin’ down the line   Whip in hand to beat me down But I ain’t gonna let him Turn me ’round

He … loves her. Well, he’s crushing on her anyway.” I didn’t know the term but I understood its meaning well enough. I sighed. “I thought she’d be smarter.” He raised his eyebrows. “She’s plenty smart.” He looked thoughtful. “You don’t believe in love then?” “No.” I wanted to look away, couldn’t. “I don’t know.

It was a beautiful night, warm and filled with stars and the songs of crickets and frogs. White flowers glowed in the grass. It was a night made for poetry. We should have been kissing. A lot. Instead we were sneaking out of the caves to a blood-soaked clearing where we’d been ambushed not twenty-four hours earlier. Not exactly an ordinary date.

Never mind that I totally knew more about fighting vampires than my peace-loving parents. Or that Logan's girlfriend, Isabeau, had given us two full-grown, trained Rottweilers to protect us, plus the Drakes sent their human bodyguards by a couple of times a night. I named them Van Helsing and Gandhi. The dogs, not the bodyguards." "Chapter 1 Lucy, page 15

I promised I will always protect you. You've been wounded badly because I've failed to keep that promise. [...] But I won´t fail you in this, Rachel. no matter what has happened. No matter what you've done. No matter what you will do. I will always love you. I swear it.

Let me walk you to your room," Logan offered in a helpful voice. "You, me, and the Gypsy girl could have our own bonfire tonight." Daphne and I stared at each other. I rolled my eyes while Daphne sniffed. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "Like I need a guy to protect me. I'm a Valkyrie, remember? I could pick you up and break your back over my knee, Spartan. Like you were a piñata." "Kinky," Logan said, smiling at her. "I like it." She snorted. "Save the smarmy charm for Gwen. We all know that she's the one you're really trying to impress anyway." We did? Because I hadn't gotten that message at all.

One word can sometimes be sharper than a thousand swords

I have never met another like you. You are an original masterpiece.

I have to console myself with the hope that I'd seen Isabeau soften, even hesitate, as if she might actually have taken my arm. It was suddenly very easy to picture her in a gown with petticoats and ringlets in her hair and diamonds at her throat. It was just as easy to picture Magda with horns and pitchfork." - Logan, page 95

Cam starts laughing, "Oh, I love it when she reads." He turns to Lucy who's face is starting to contort and turn to a bright shade of red, "She reads these smutty books, like full on dirty shit, full of sex and like... bdsm shit." "I'm not joking boys, they're like full on pornographic. Talking about silky shafts and veiny dicks and shit," Logan is now on the ground holding his side from the pain of laughing too hard. "Sometimes she'll be reading, then all of sudden she'll put her book down and look at me like she wants to eat me, literally eat me!" he yells, laughing harder, still swatting away her hands that are trying to shut him up, "I mean I don't mind it, not at all. It's hot as fuck. And she wants to try everything she reads in these books. Like... everything. She learns everything from these books... so I don't give a shit when, of how much she reads, I get rewards.

Although there are those who wish to ban my books because I have used language that is painful, I have chosen to use the language that was spoken during the period, for I refuse to whitewash history. The language was painful and life was painful for many African Americans, including my family. I remember the pain.

Do you like my name? he asked. "yes, I do," I replied. "Good, because one day soon, I want to give it to you.

What do I need to get you into my bed?" Logan asked boldly. Tate couldn't help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan's directness. "A vagina?" He raised a brow at the man. Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear. "Hi hon." He then met Tate's eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina I can get.

He came back up with a brighter smile. "And I'm proven right, again! You guys should hire me for this talent I have. Mom, I bet you have a better sex life with that Garrett dude than you did with dad." "Logan!" He turned towards James. "And dad, I bet your sex life is pretty good with Analise. She strikes me as the slutty type." "Logan!" He grinned broadly. "And David…I don't know you that well, but you strike me as conservative. You're only going to be with a conservative woman, maybe one that looks exotic though. I can tell you have control issues. You don't like anyone who is wilder than you, probably why you had problems with your ex, huh? As for the current one, she's hot under the covers, but I don't know if you want her to be." He shook his head in sympathy. "You might want to take care of that.

There are five unread messages on the screen, which is what happens when you’re the meat in a hot girl sandwich. Threesomes trump checking your phone. That’s a no-brainer. Logan: Hey, bro, Wellsy’s friend Allie is crashing at our place this weekend. Logan: Keep your dick in your pants. G and I aren’t in the mood to beat u senseless if u try something. Wellsy might be in the mood for violence, tho. So: dick = pants = don’t bother our guest. Hannah: Allie’s staying with u guys til Sunday. She’s in a vulnerable place right now. Don’t take advantage of her or else I’ll be unhappy. And u don’t want to make me unhappy, do u? I snicker. Hannah, diplomatic as always. I quickly scan the last two messages. Garrett: Allie’s gonna crash in my room. Garrett: Your dick can stay in your room. Jeez, what is everybody’s fascination with my dick?

I can't swallow another drop of soda by this point because the carbonation is burning my throat. "Oh really? Well..." I trail off as I feel bubbling at the base of my throat. This is not good. Before I can stop myself, I let out the biggest burp I've ever, ever, ever had. I slap a hand over my mouth and stare at Logan whose eyebrows have reached astronomical heights. "Dude! So not smooth, man! Girls cannot stand rudeness," Dan yells from the back room.

I went home that day, and I wrote your name over and over on a piece of paper. I must have written it a hundred times. My mom found the paper a few days later in my sock drawer. She wanted to know why I'd done that..." I wanted to know why more than anything I'd ever remembered wanting, but a part of me hoped he'd chicken out. "I told her I liked the way your name made my heart jump.

Fire should never be tempered in a female because that's what fuels her passion, causing it to ignite." He lifted my chin with his hand and stroked his thumb gently across my lips. "All a male can hope for is to be consumed by it until there is nothing left of him.

Logan Matthews," I put my hand out to shake hers. She looked down at it, shook her head, laughed once, and then looked back up at me. "Definitely no." "What? Why? Give me one good reason," I spat out. I didn't know why it was getting to me, her not wanting me. But I was pissed off and I felt like I needed to win that argument, or whatever the fuck it was that was going on there. "Because." "That's not a reason." "Because I have a boyfriend." "No you don't." I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. "Because you're an asshole." "Valid, but not accepted. Next?

Why is Santa an anagram for Satan? I mean, besides the fact that both have the same amounts of the same letters. Just consider the many other similarities between the two figures: both of them are red, both of them like to laugh, both of them give presents to children and both of them are kings of an ungodly underworld of unspeakable horror and suffering. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

Winter came in days that were gray and still. They were the kind of days in which people locked in their animals and themselves and nothing seemed to stir but the smoke curling upwards from clay chimneys and an occasional red-winged blackbird which refused to be grounded. And it was cold. Not the windy cold like Uncle Hammer said swept the northern winter, but a frosty, idle cold that seeped across a hot land ever lookung toward the days of green and ripening fields, a cold thay lay uneasy during during its short stay as it crept through the cracks of poorly constucted houses and forced the people inside huddled around ever-burning fires to wish it gone.

My brothers are idiots. Anyone can see that under the scars and the attitude, Isabeau is more fragile than she looks. And as a reclusive Hound princess, her first introduction to the royal family shouldn’t be a dose of Hypnos and four idiots gawking at her. If I’d managed not to gawk, they sure as hell could have. She was beautiful, fierce, and utterly unlike anyone I’d ever known. It was really hard not to gawk. Much better to pace outside her door with one of our Bouviers sitting at the top of the stairs watching me curiously. “This sucks, Boudicca,” I told her. “I don’t think we inherited Dad’s diplomacy.” She laid her chin on her paws. I could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

Apparently I’m the only one who thinks this is the worst fucking idea since horses,” Garrett says irritably. “Horses?” Logan and Fitzy echo in unison. “Like, horses in general?” Morris asks in confusion. “As in, domesticating them,” he grumbles. “They belong in the wild. End of story.” “Babe,” Hannah hedges in, “are you just saying that because you’re scared of horses?” His jaw drops. “I’m not scared of horses.” She ignores the denial. “Oh my God, it’s all coming together. That’s why you wouldn’t go to the Thanksgiving fair in Philly.” She glances at the rest of us. “My aunt and uncle wanted to take us to this festival thing with all these cool booths and a petting zoo…and horseback riding. He said his stomach hurt.” Garrett visibly clenches his teeth. “My stomach did hurt. I ate too much fucking turkey, Wellsy. Anyway, I don’t like this.

Poor Christopher-John had fallen into the hands of Miss. Daisy Crocker. I greatly sympathized him, but as in everything else, Christopher John tried to see the bright side in having to face such a shrew every morning. "Maybe she done changed," he said hopefully on the first day of school. However, when classes were over he was noticeably quiet. Well?" I asked him. He shrugged dejectedly and admitted, "She still the same.

Hannah returns to our booth carrying our drink orders. Or rather, Allie and Dex’s drink orders. Logan and I asked for sodas, but what we get is water. “Where’s my Dr. Pepper, Wellsy?” Logan whines. She levels him with a stern look. “Do you know how much sugar is in a soft drink?” “A perfectly acceptable amount and therefore I should drink it?” supplies Logan. “Wrong. The answer is too damn much. You’re playing Michigan in an hour—you can’t get all hopped up on sugar before a game. You’ll get a five-minute energy boost and then crash halfway through the first period.” Logan sighs. “G, why is your girl our nutritionist now?” I pick up my water glass and take a sip of defeat. “Do you want to argue with her?” Logan looks at Hannah, whose expression clearly conveys: you’ll get a soda over my dead body. Then he looks back at me. “No,” he says glumly.

ROTHKO: (Explodes) 'Pretty.' 'Beautiful.' 'Nice.' 'Fine.' That's our life now! Everything's 'fine'. We put on the funny nose and glasses and slip on the banana peel and the TV makes everything happy and everyone's laughing all the time, it's all so goddamn funny, it's our constitutional right to be amused all the time, isn't it? We're a smirking nation, living under the tyranny of 'fine.' How are you? Fine.. How was your day? Fine. How are you feeling? Fine. How did you like the painting? Fine. What some dinner? Fine... Well, let me tell you, everything is not fine!! HOW ARE YOU?!... HOW WAS YOUR DAY?!... HOW ARE YOU FEELING? Conflicted. Nuanced. Troubled. Diseased. Doomed. I am not fine. We are not fine. We are anything but fine... Look at these pictures. Look at them! You see the dark rectangle, like a doorway, an aperture, yes but it’s also a gaping mouth letting out a silent howl of something feral and foul and primal and REAL. Not nice. Not fine. Real. A moan of rapture. Something divine or damned. Something immortal, not comic books or soup cans, something beyond me and beyond now. And whatever it is, it’s not pretty and it’s not fine...I AM HERE TO STOP YOUR HEART‬

We believe in the wrong things. That's what frustrates me the most. Not the lack of belief, but the belief in the wrong things. You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We're just so damn good at reading them wrong. I don't think meaning is something that can be explained. You have to understand it on your own. It's like when you're starting to read. First, you learn the letters. Then, once you know what sounds the letters make, you use them to sound out words. You know that c-a-t leads to cat and d-o-g leads to dog. But then you have to make that extra leap, to understand that the word, the sound, the "cat" is connected to an actual cat , and that "dog" is connected to an actual dog. It's that leap, that understanding, that leads to meaning. And a lot of the time in life, we're still just sounding things out. We know the sentences and how to say them. We know the ideas and how to present them. We know the prayers and which words to say in what order. But that's only spelling" It's much harder to lie to someone's face. But. It is also much harder to tell the truth to someone's face. The indefatigable pursuit of an unattainable perfection, even though it consist in nothing more than in the pounding of an old piano, is what alone gives a meaning to our life on this unavailing star. (Logan Pearsall Smith) Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around. (J.R. Moehringer) You could be standing a few feet away...I could have sat next to you on the subway, or brushed beside you as we went through the turnstiles. But whether or not you are here, you are here- because these words are for you, and they wouldn't exist is you weren't here in some way. At last I had it--the Christmas present I'd wanted all along, but hadn't realized. His words. The dream was obviously a sign: he was too enticing to resist. Wow. You must have a lot of faith in me. Which I appreciate. Even if I'm not sure I share it. I could do this on my own, and not freak out that I had no idea what waited for me on the other side of this night. Hope and belief. I'd always wanted hope, but never believed that I could have such an adventure on my own. That I could own it. And love it. But it happened. Because I'm So uncool and so afraid. If there was a clue, that meant the mystery was still intact I fear you may have outmatched me, because not I find these words have nowhere to go. It's hard to answer a question you haven't been asked. It's hard to show that you tried unless you end up succeeding. This was not a haystack. We were people, and people had ways of finding eachother. It was one of those moments when you feel the future so much that is humbles the present. Don't worry. It's your embarrassment at not having the thought that counts. You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here's ahint- ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn't just the women. It's the great male fantasy- all it takes is one dance to know that she's the one. All it takes is the sound of her song from the tower, or a look at her sleeping face. And right away you know--this is the girl in your head, sleeping or dancing or singing in front of you. Yes, girls want their princes, but boys want their princesses just as much. And they don't want a very long courtship. They want to know immediately. Be careful what you;re doing, because no one is ever who you want them to be. And the less you really know them, the more likely you are to confuse them with the girl or boy in your head You should never wish for wishful thinking

As I brush my teeth, I scroll through my phone to see if Sabrina texted when my phone was on silent last night. She didn’t. Damn. I was hoping my speech—and that amazing fucking kiss—might’ve changed her mind about going out with me, but I guess it didn’t. I do, however, find the most mind-boggling conversation in the group chat I have with my roommates. All the messages are from last night, and they’re bizarre as fuck. Garrett: The hells, D?! Dean: It’s not what you think!! Logan: It’s hard to mistake ur romantic bath with that giant pink thing! In ur ass! Dean: It wasn’t in my ass! Garrett: I’m not even going to ask where it was Dean: I had a girl over! Garrett: Suuuuuuuuure Logan: Suuuuuuuuure Dean: I hate you guys Garrett: <3 Logan: <3 I rinse my mouth out, spit, and drop the toothbrush into the little cup on the sink. Then I quickly type out a text. Me: Wait… what did I miss? Since we have practice in twenty minutes, the guys are already awake and clearly on their phones. Two photos pop up simultaneously. Garrett and Logan have both sent me pics of pink dildos. I’m even more confused now. Dean messages immediately with, Why do you guys have dildo pics handy? Logan: ALINIMB Dean: ?? Me: ?? Garrett: At Least It’s Not In My Butt. I snort to myself, because I’m starting to piece it together. Logan: Nice, G! U got that on the first try! Garrett: We spend too much time 2gether. Me: PLEASE tell me u caught D playing w/ dildos. Logan: Sure did. Dean is quick to object again. I HAD A GIRL OVER! The guys and I rag on him for a couple more minutes, but I have to stop when Fitzy stumbles into the bathroom and shoves me aside. He’s got crazy bedhead and he’s buck-naked. “Gotta piss,” he mumbles. “Mornin’, sunshine,” I say cheerfully. “Want me to make you some coffee?” “God. Yes. Please.” Chuckling, I duck out of the bathroom and walk the four or so steps into his kitchenette. When he finally emerges, I shove a cup of coffee in his hand, sip my own, and say, “Dean shoved a dildo up his ass last night.” Fitzy nods. “Makes sense.” I snicker mid-sip. Coffee spills over the rim of my cup. “It really does, huh?