Lovelight Farms Quotes

I’m going to love her in all the quiet ways, the slow ways, the loud and obnoxious ways.

And isn’t it silly, to love the way someone’s things look like next to yours? Little bits and pieces of a life lived in parallel.

People get too caught up in how things look instead of how things feel,

Leaning on other people doesn't make your achievements any less yours, La La. You can trust me to help you carry the load. You don't have to do all of this alone. I know you can take of yourself. You've been doing that as long as I've known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

It’s hard to love someone without restraint. To give yourself over to the swell and pull of it without fear of what might happen. I think it’s only natural to hold a part of yourself back and protect what you can.

Luka filled the empty places in my life slowly, carefully, with his easy smile and stupid jokes. He brought me back to myself. And it’s been that way ever since.

Let it be known that telling a woman to relax has never once resulted in said relaxation.

We should remember those who have left us with fondness. Speaking of them keeps their memory alive.

You’re not always going to know what the right thing is,” he had said. “When that happens, you continue.

No hello. No how are you. Just, wanna go get a grilled cheese?

I’m going to love her in all the quiet ways, the slow ways, the loud and obnoxious ways. My heart has been moving steadily in that direction since she fell down the steps of a hardware store, right into my arms.

If kissing him in the snow was magic then this is—this is sugarplum fairies and toffee brittle crunch on top of dark chocolate cupcakes.

He pushes his head into my hand, closing his eyes. “Leaning on other people doesn’t make your achievements any less yours, La La.

He looks like sugar and spice and everything not so nice, sleep rumpled and flushed in my bed.

Moments frozen in time throughout the years, always just for a second or two. But it has always been enough to make me feel like maybe he might want me the same way I’ve always wanted him. More than a friend.

He’s staring at me with a cocky grin kicking up his mouth. Oh, to have the confidence of a young white man.

He’s saying a million things with that look, I just can’t hear what they are.

There’s a special kind of magic on nights like this, a certain sort of nostalgia when the past intermingles with the present and flirts with the future.

I’ve never been kissed like this before, with the night sky pressing down on me and Luka everywhere else.

Why are we slow dancing?” Luka rests his chin on top of my head. “This is how my parents argued,” he confesses quietly, a grin in his voice. “Or I guess, this is how they had big conversations. My dad said he liked to keep my mom close, but I really think he wanted a way to politely restrain her.

It’s like the North Pole had a love child with Hogwarts! I want to live here forever!

Wanted to,” he mumbles. Pink touches the tips of his ears. “I missed—I missed home, and I couldn’t sleep, so I just drove back.

I guess I thought owning a Christmas tree farm would be romantic.

Honey,” her eyes trip back and forth between my own, a sad smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Just because you let yourself love someone, doesn't mean they’re going to leave.

I need you to date me,” I blurt out. My palms are sweating, my heart is somewhere in my throat, and my stomach has completely removed itself from the conversation. Luka, for his part, doesn’t so much as flinch. He just calmly twirls his fork around and around, collecting the world’s longest spaghetti noodle. “Okay.” He pops his fork into his mouth.

he’s tradition and familiarity. He is homemade pop tarts on the first Saturday of the month. He is late-night viewings of Die Hard in the sticky summer heat, both of our phones propped up on our respective coffee tables. He is pizza with extra mushrooms and light sauce, a crust that has to be perfect.

Oh, to have the confidence of a young white man.

I swallow and gently pat the corners of my mouth with the napkin resting in my lap. I am a lady.

Because I love Luka. I’ve been falling in love with him for close to nine years. Every day a little bit deeper. And if I give into him now only for it to break apart later, I won’t have anything left.

I don’t believe in fate, or kismet, or any rule or reason to the universe and all its random, wonderful, terrible happenings. But I do believe I found Luka when I needed him the most, and I like to think my mom played a part in that. It’s a comfort.

I’ve been thinking about kissing you all week,” I feel him say against my lips. That’s nice. I’ve been thinking about kissing him since I was twenty-three.

The magic is in the details, my mom always used to say. And these details are perfect.

It’s like the North Pole had a love child with Hogwarts. I want to live here forever.

Beckett, be serious please.” “You’re right. He’d be too happy there. Let’s ship him someplace miserable. Like Florida.

I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

Christmas Eve will find me Where the love-light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams.

What do you know about causal analysis?

We’ve hugged. We’ve cuddled. We’ve twisted ourselves around one another on the couch watching movies. But we’ve never panted into each other’s skin. Moved together to chase friction and heat and wanting.

Leaning on other people doesn't make your achievements any less yours, La La. You can trust me to help carry the laod. You don't have to do this alone. I know you can take care of yourself. You've been doing that as long as I've known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

He’s more than my best friend - he’s tradition and familiarity. He is homemade pop tarts on the first Saturday of the month. He is late-night viewings of Die Hard in the sticky summer heat, both of our phones propped up on our respective coffee tables. He is pizza with extra mushrooms and light sauce, a crust that has to be perfect.

You have big feelings for Luka, and he has big feelings for you, and I don’t understand why neither of you has ever done anything about it.

There’s nothing ambiguous about me telling you I will break every bone in your finely structured body if I see even the hint of a tear on that girl’s face, and I will take great pleasure in grinding you down, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

This feels like an oversimplification of a complicated addition to an irreplaceable relationship. I’ve watched enough romantic comedies to know that this is probably going to end badly for one of us, and my money is on me.

It’s hard enough maintaining the charade of a fake relationship; now I have some mystery trespasser wreaking havoc.

The first video is me explaining that I’m at Lovelight Farms where two idiots think they’re pretending to be in love.” She grins at me, proud of herself. “You understand now?” She scoops her phone off the ground. “You think you’ve been lying to me, but you’ve just been lying to yourself this whole time.

Oh to have the confidence of a young white man. "Want a tip?" "From you, baby? I want more than the tip!" Ugh, gross. When did high schoolers become so terrible? I make a mental note to let Mrs. Peters know that Jeremy sucks, though I’m sure that given his less-than-subtle approach to life, she has an idea. "Don’t call women old," I tell him. "In fact, don’t call women anything. I think you’d benefit from probably not talking to women in general for 5-7 years.

It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key,” he calls back. I laugh and his smile tips up into something beautiful. It’s a moment I want to stamp into my soul for the nights when I feel a little bit lonely and a lot bit sad.

What I’m trying to say is that you can trust me. You can trust me to help you carry the load. You don’t have to do all of this alone.” He catches an errant curl, rubbing it gently between thumb and forefinger. He twists it lightly and tugs once. “I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?

It feels like all of our almost moments are balanced on the tip of my tongue and he’s coaxing them free, his teeth lightly nipping. When I almost reached for his hand at the bar, because I liked the way his fingers felt between mine. When I almost kissed him at the jam festival, because I wanted to see if he tasted like strawberries. When I almost told him I loved him, every single time he answered his door and his amber eyes lit up at the sight of me.

It is better to have your head in the clouds, and know where you are,’” he recites, voice oddly formal, a bit nasally. “‘Than to breathe the clearer atmosphere below them, and think you are in paradise.’” I blink at him, confused. “Um.” Is that an insult? A warning? “That’s Henry David Thoreau.” Apparently, it's Henry David Thoreau.

Is exile a thing? Can we ship him to Peru? His alpaca-loving heart would finally be satisfied.” “Beckett, be serious please.” “You’re right. He’d be too happy there. Let’s ship him someplace miserable. Like Florida.

It makes me sad. We should remember those who have left us with fondness. Speaking of them keeps their memory alive.

I feel like one of the snow globes I keep on the very edge of my desk. Like he’s just shaken me all up, and I’m twisting head over heels, glitter and snowflakes rushing around me.

I wanted it to feel like stepping inside a Dolly Parton Christmas special.

Leaning on other people doesn’t make your achievements any less yours.

You look pretty when you cum

It would be comical if it wasn’t such a mess.

I think if something were supposed to happen between Luka and me, it would have already happened.” Layla doesn’t like that answer. I can see it in the twist of her lips. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to say something.

I’m just saying I think this might be the something you’ve both been waiting for.

just because you let yourself love someone doesn’t mean they’re going to leave.

You need to relax.” Let it be known that telling a woman to relax has never once resulted in said relaxation.

You’re right. He’d be too happy there. Let’s ship him someplace miserable. Like Florida.

And then proceeded to ask for seven consecutive weeks if he should grow his hair out like Aragorn. Like the universe needs Luka to be more attractive.

Like how we’re acting in public. What if we tried that when we were alone, too? Take this morning as an example. We wanted to try it, so we did. And we’re still okay. I think—I think If it feels right, we should follow it.” “Meaning?” “Meaning if we’re here and I want to press you into the countertop and see what you taste like, then I can try that.” My stomach swoops low. He nuzzles my knee. “If you want.

You’ve made this place amazing. You. On your own. You should be proud of that. Adding a boyfriend doesn’t make your story any more or less important.

The line defining fiction and reality is obliterated.

Luka loves me. Luka is in love with me.

If kissing him in the snow was magic, then this is—this is sugarplum fairies and toffee brittle crunch on top of dark chocolate cupcakes.

But he would make me a grilled cheese. Whenever I was sad.

It’s hard to love someone without restraint. To give yourself over to the swell and pull of it without fear of what might happen. I think it’s only natural to hold a part of yourself back and protect what you can. But it’s hard to keep yourself from giving in too. Layla is right. These past nine years I’ve buried every glimpse of strong feeling with denial, yearning and a sprinkle of deliberate misunderstanding

I stop at Sheetz and eat my body weight in tater tots and fried mac and cheese.

There’s no jolt of electricity when our skin touches, just the sweet, settling warmth I always feel. Like the first bite of pie after waiting for it to cool on the racks next to the oven, tart and delicious. Or clothes fresh out of the dryer in the middle of winter. Steady and sure. A familiar comfort.

When they’re moving her in, Boy meets a Girl. Runs right into her really. And she is—“ he coughs, his arm tightening over my shoulder. “She’s incredible. Smart, funny, beautiful as all hell. But she’s sad too. So he buys her a beer and a grilled cheese and after that—well, after that he keeps bumping into her. Buys her some more grilled cheese. And that’s that.

Falling into friendship with Luka had been effortless. Half the time I don’t remember what it was like before him. It feels like he’s always been a part of my life. And no wonder, after almost a decade.

It’s easy like this to think of him as mine. This Luka, with this smile, in this place. Brown laced boots and a sweater over plaid. The surge of possessiveness is so fierce it takes my breath away, and I rub at my sternum in an effort to rid myself of the feeling. I feel like our display in town has cracked open the tiny steel box I keep all my Luka feelings buried in.

I’ve always been attracted to Luka. He’s handsome in all the ways I like best; tall, perpetually messy hair, strong jaw, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. But it’s always been easy enough to ignore it. Convince myself I don’t see him like that. I’m noticing it now.

Luka filled the empty places in my life slowly, carefully, with his easy smile and stupid jokes. He brought me back to myself.

I wake up the next morning with a headache behind my eyes and a pull in my gut that’s the result of one too many gummy worms, and probably a hasty decision to force my best friend into a fake relationship. Can you have a hangover from bad decisions? It seems likely.

I’ve always wanted to be an urban legend.

I don’t think she realizes it, but we’ve kind of been dating for the past nine years.

It’s my favorite time of year, this in between of fall and winter. It’s feels like the whole world is holding its breath. Stillness and sweetness, all rolled into one.