Lynn Movie Quotes

She’s not you.” “What?” “She. Isn’t. You.

Enemies-to-lovers—it’s our trope, Buxbaum.

I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn you cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.

You look best when you're you.

Sometimes we get so tied up in our idea of what we think we want that we miss out on the amazingness of what we could actually have.

Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind.

When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case, I do them all the time. All of them.

Music made everything better.

I did what I had to. All is fair in love and parking.

I’m confident enough in my masculinity and sexuality that I can say that Ryan Gosling is just dreamy in this movie.

A girl will never forget the first boy she likes.” —He’s Just Not That into You “But she’ll also never forget the first boy she hates.” —Liz Buxbaum

Be brave enough to go big.

I am just Wes fucking Bennett, Lib, the guy who can't remember a single day in his life when he didn't love you.

Hey—don’t ditch me until I find Michael, okay?” “Call me ‘Wessy,’ and I totally won’t.” I snorted. “Fine. If you ditch me, Wessy, I will stab you with the keg tap.” “My little Libby is such a savage.

In your dreams, Bennett,” she teased. “Every damn night, Buxbaum,

She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.” It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me.

I could say these unfiltered things to him because he didn’t care. Wes Bennett knew what a mess I was underneath it all, and there was a little bit of joy in knowing he saw the real me. Freedom.

because of things like car accidents and lost loves, life and death and broken hearts, we should grab every moment and absolutely devour the good parts.

I exist to exist alongside of you.

There was never anyone else for me but you.

Do you realize we could’ve been doing this for years if you weren’t such a pain in the ass?” “Nah—I didn’t like you until recently.” “Enemies-to-lovers—it’s our trope, Buxbaum.” “You poor, confused little love lover.” A giggle shimmied through me before I set my hands on his face and said as I pulled him back to me, “Just shut up and kiss me.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” —10 Things I Hate About You

Wes: Make sure you add “Someone Like You” to the Wes and Liz playlist.

Please don’t ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere—

My inheritance was the knowledge that love is always in the air, always a possibility, and always worth it.

You suppose? What on earth could she possibly be lacking? Do you want bigger boobs or something? Is she not—” “She’s not you.” “What?” “She. Isn’t. You.

When I brought my eyes back to his, I knew without a doubt that if we were anywhere else—alone—he would kiss me. He swallowed, and my eyes tracked down to his throat before slowly climbing back up by way of his strong chin, nose, and dark-as-night brown eyes. He raised one eyebrow, an unspoken question, and I realized at that moment that I wanted it. I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore. I wouldn’t run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes. Holy shit.

But just know that no matter what you decide, and no matter what happens, I will feel this way about you for the rest of my life.

What do you mean, not your type? Because he’s not some character who writes poetry and knows what your favorite flower is?

So I was thinking we should skip tomorrow, stay right here and watch shitty movies all day." My first response was to say I couldn't skip a whole day's worth of classes, but as I met Cam's mischievous gaze, I said screw it. "That's a brilliant idea." "I know, right?" He tapped his head. "I'm full of great shit." "Yeah, you're definitely full of it..." "Ha.

I can't talk to you when you're like this." "Happy? Excited? Hopeful?" "Delusional.

You’re late.” “You’re stunning.” “You’re forgiven.” —Pretty Woman

There will never be anyone else for me. Hard stop. So go have your think and do what you need to do. But Lizzie--we are worth the risk. We always will be.

So you think that two enemies—in the real world—can magically get over their differences and fall madly in love?

I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn your cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.

It’d been better than the movies, I swear to God.

Charm and intrigue can only get you so far, Libby Loo. Those things always disappear, which is why you never, ever choose the bad boy.

My favorite thing about music—when you played it loud enough through good headphones (and I had the best)—was that it softened the edges of the world.

You can’t wait 17 hours for me?’ ‘Buxbaum, I’ve waited my whole life for you.

Me: Who cares about meteor showers? If you bring the cherry ciggies, I’m so there. Wes: You’re such a shit. See you there.

When I saw you get hit, I realized there isn't anything confusing about it at all. I love you. Of course I love you; you're Wes. You are the only boy I've ever loved in my entire life.

It was time to get Liz Buxbaum back.

Her place in his heart was gone, and she only lived in his head now.

I wouldn’t run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes.

Can you pretty please wear the Chucks?

Holy shit, Liz Buxbaum knows my scent.

I pulled back and let myself stare at his handsome face, at the person who had always been there for me, even when I hadn’t wanted him to be.

She's not you." "What?" "She. Isn't. You.

Besides, what's more fun than a story that starts with a fake relationship?

I can’t breathe without you, but I have to . . .

Her smile was the same knee-weakening smile that she’d given me the first time she said she loved me, in the parking lot of the animal shelter in Ogallala, Nebraska.

Why was I wasting my life trying to live up to the ridiculous expectations that I was setting for myself?

You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand . . .

Elizabeth Fucking Bennett

No one wore lovesick like my Libby.

Elizabeth fucking Bennett, ladies and gentlemen. Buxbaum. Ahem. Elizabeth fucking Buxbaum.

I just smiled and shrugged as “New Year’s Day” by Taylor Swift came on.

I’m not sure if things got quiet or loud, blurry or hyperfocused, but I know the universe changed as I looked at Liz, everything melting into impressionistic streaks of fuzzy background colors.

The Notebook? You own The Notebook?" Cam stared at me blankly. "What's wrong with that?" "Oh, nothing is wrong with that. It's just such a...uh, chick flick." "I'm confident enough in my masculinity and sexuality that I can say that Ryan Gosling is just dreamy in this movie." My jaw hit the floor. The blank expression slipped away and he started laughing. "I'm joking. I don't own The Notebook. Never watched it. Didn't bring any romance movies.

Boy bands, fan fiction, soap operas, reality TV, most shows and movies with female main characters . . . We’re still so rarely front and center, even rarer when you consider race and sexuality, and then when we do get something that’s just for us, we’re made to feel bad for liking it. We can’t win.

It felt like a thousand memories of her—smiling at me, laughing with me, tangled up in my arms in my dorm room—swirled together and crashed into my lungs like a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball.

Do you know how many 12:13s I've watched pass without you? Tonight it'll be the seven hundred and twentieth," I said, the words burning my throat. "The last thing in the world I want is to say something that makes that number infinite, but I also can't let you erase our history. I don't want to remember the bad parts, but I refuse to forget the good.

Buddy, I have the BEST idea." "God help me.

I love you. Of course I love you; you're Wes. You are the only boy I've ever loved in my entire life.

How positively scandalous of you, Elizabeth.

The rest of the world disappeared as I looked at her.

Liz Buxbaum had always been my secret. She was the incredible thing I’d known about but everyone else seemed to miss. The treasure hidden in plain sight, the fortune of a lifetime that was somehow only visible to me.

I've never watched The Notebook either. Not big on romance flicks," I admitted, opening the huge cartons. "Really? I thought every girl has seen that movie and can quote it at a drop of a hat.

Life pressed forward with a burning velocity that left all of the beautifully-pressed details quickly forgotten.

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Before I could respond, Wes took a handful of my waistband and wrapped it around his hand, pulling it higher so my belly was entirely covered. “Liz’s clothes are falling off, so it’s time for us to leave.” I froze when I felt Wes’s hand on my skin. I looked at his face as he looked down at me, and I felt… off-kilter. I wasn’t sure if it was in response to his touch or his sudden cavemannish protectiveness. I also wasn’t sure why it wasn’t pissing me off.

Society—wrongly—expects a pretty girl to eat a salad and pick at her food, but you wolf down a burger like a person who’s been starved for weeks. And probably raised by wolves.

I wanted to skip down the hall yell-singing “Paper Rings.

I wondered what she'd think if she knew the quote from Jerry McGuire-You complete me- flashed through my very soul as I watched her laugh.

Nothing said school was back in session like nearly getting run over by an e-scooter.

A laugh I'd recognize anywhere

And you've screwed me up, Lib, because now I'm thinking in lyrics instead of original thoughts. I'm look at you and trying to find the words to convince you to be with me, and do you know what comes into you head? You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. They aren't my words, I don't even know what song of album they're from, for God's sake, but it's exactly how I feel. And you taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else-like, I can't remember who wrote that, but I feel it down to the marrow in my bones. Being with you has changed the threads of my existence, I swear to God, so now being without you makes everything quieter, dimmer and duller. So. Much. Smaller.

He stayed silent through my entire breakdown, and once I stopped talking and started hiccupping embarrassing little sobs, he leaned forward and wiped my tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Liz.” He looked sad when he said it, like he wanted to cry too. Then he said, “Wait here.” He gave me the One sec finger before turning and running into his house. I stood there, exhausted from the crying and shocked by his niceness, and when he came out his front door, he gave me a ten-dollar bill.

Now, mind you, I just wanted to crawl off into a corner and die from my horrific battle wounds. But if Mrs. Buxbaum needed me, I was damn well going to help.

I was carpe diem–ing the crap out of my life, throwing myself into every single moment because I knew firsthand how fleeting those moments could be.

In your dreams, Bennett," she teased. "Every damn night, Buxbaum,

You're looking at me like I'm nuts, honey, and you're right. I am. I am out of my mind when it comes to you." I said, shrugging because it was a fact. "When I'm near you, the way I feel steals the breath from my body. It's like I breathe for you. like I exists to exist alongside of you. I know those feelings are probably too big and too scary and put way too much pressure on you, and I'm sorry for that. Truly. But it's the way I feel. The way I've always felt.

Wes: I just wanted to say hi because you’re on my mind. Wes: Have a great day. Also—I just listened to “You Could Start a Cult” by Lizzy and Niall, and if you haven’t heard it, seems like a Buxbaum song. And he dropped a link. Damn him. How could he possibly know?

She's not you." "What?" "She.Isn't.You

I swiped at my cheeks and tried outrunning the sadness, but it stayed with me all the way home.

Here’s how it usually went: I would see a cute guy, daydream about him for weeks and totally build him up in my mind to be my one-and-only soul mate.

But I trust you,” he said, turning around and walking backward. “I don’t want to discuss this with anyone, ever, but if I have to, I’d choose you over anyone else.

But I knew, as I sat alone on the deck at midnight, staring at the orange tip of a Swisher while everyone inside the house yelled ‘Happy New Year,’ that I’d never forgive myself for what my words had done to her face.

When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case, I do them all the time. All of them" - Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

...for my beloved dad, who saw the cover but never got to read the book.

He had on glasses—he only wore those when his eyes got tired—and his blue baseball cap was on backward, making him look… gaaaaah so annoying.

No, sir, I was greedily grabbing with both hands and never letting go.

She's not you. What? She. Isn't . You. - Wes Bennet

Liz Buxbaum was killing me softly and there was nothing I could do to ease the pain.

The universe likes Wes better.

Did you ever know, Liz, that Wes used to sit on the back porch and listen to you practice the piano? We pretended not to see him, but he was always there. And we’re talking way back when he was a little pain in the ass and you were awful at piano.

Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind.” —27 Dresses

Just because she likes the same bizarro crap you do doesn’t mean she’s your soul mate.” —500 Days of Summer

My favourite thing about music...was that it softened the edges of the world.

Lips twitching spasmodically, Devon put me back in the hold, and I did the only thing I could think of to alleviate his guilt and put him in fighting mode for real. “Armani is for mama’s boys, and a movie doesn’t count as a real film if nothing gets blown up.” You’re going down, Bronwyn. Them’s fighting words.

Wes was the good guy in the movie. Yes, he was funny and the life of the party, but he was also dependable and understanding and loyal. Even though i realized after prom that i didnt need him to be, he was a Mark Darcy

I stared at them, the picture-perfect couple, as Taylor Swift made my soul ache. Please don’t ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere—

You’re not as vile as I thought you were.” —10 Things I Hate About You

He opened the door for me and leaned his arms on the top of the window while I got in. “That would be the worst, right?” “The absolute worst.” He slammed the door,

Anything you want, Buxbaum. As long as I'm with you, it will the perfect day.

Hey, kiddo.” Helena looked over at me from the doorway that led to the kitchen as I practiced piano in the living room. I liked playing in the morning, and I liked playing in my fancy flowered pajamas with the matching silk slippers. It made practicing feel like an elegant pastime, like I was an erstwhile Austen character honing one of the skills that would make me a fearsome thing to behold.

Bodie’s phone rang. Ivy. I knew it was her, the way you know the protagonist of a horror movie really shouldn’t go down into that basement. Bodie took the call, then nodded at me to go back inside.

And it’s been killing me.” He took a step closer, which pressed me against the side of my car. “I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn your cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.

I love you. I’ve loved you for 9 years; I’ve just been too arrogant and scared to realize it, and…well, now I’m just scared. So, I realize this comes at a very inopportune time, but I really have this gigantic favor to ask of you. Choose me. Marry me. Oh that sounds like 3 favors doesn’t it

I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” “Happy? Excited? Hopeful?” I wanted to skip down the hall yell-singing “Paper Rings.

Your fart books, hello? I need some relief, ma'am. Where are the books on gastrointestinal emergencies?

Oh my God, you're too cool to write with ketchup?

Because our good moments were the crumbs that fed me seven hundred and ninteen 12:13s when I was alone.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek and-holy shit-looked like she wanted to laugh. "Are you high, Wes Bennett?

Well, why did you act like you wanted me to say yes to Michael’s promposal?” “You’ve loved him since kindergarten.” His eyes were all I could see as he quietly said, “I didn’t want our kiss to get in the way of that if it was what you really wanted.” How had I ever thought Wes was anything other than amazing? I didn’t even try to stop the lovesick smile from taking over my face as I set my hands on his chest and said, “What I really wanted was to go with you.” “Well, you could’ve told me that, Buxbaum.” His voice was just a breath between us as he said, “Because just seeing you in that dress made me want to punch our very good friend Michael.” “It did?” He yanked on the drawstring. “That’s not supposed to make you happy.

I realized at that moment that I wanted it. I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn't bring myself to care about that anymore. I wouldn't run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes. Holy shit.

I saw the paper.” Wes looked like he was trying not to laugh as his entire face smiled. “I saw the paper, so it’s pointless to deny it. It was sitting on your planner this morning and it said ‘The Soundtrack of M&L.’ Oh my God, Buxbaum, that is freaking adorable.” I laughed even though I was mortified. “Shut up, Wes.” “What songs are on it?” “Seriously.” “Seriously, I want to know. Is it all boot-knocking songs, like Ginuwine and Nine Inch Nails, or is it cheesy romance? Was Taylor Swift on the list?

I slid them under his hoodie as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, and then they were on his face, feeling the rigid solidity of his jawline while he kissed me like it was his job and he wanted a raise.

I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.

It looks like something out of a horror movie.” I poked it again. “I’m afraid it’s going to launch itself off the plate and cover my face.

She. Isn't. You

Before I hit play, I paused to offer Wes an end. He took it, and we listened in silence until we made the turn into the school parking lot.

It seemed to me that because of things like car accidents and lost loves, life and death and broken hearts, we should grab every moment and absolutely devour the good parts.

In an instant, I'd lost my grieving buddy and gained a woman who was nothing like the mom I cried for every night.

And I think I regret all of it. I miss your clothes and curly hair. You look best when you’re you.

My Liz was fired-up, and it was perfection.

It pained me to think something so inane, but that morning, as she’d subjected me to an endless T-Swift playlist, I realized that Liz was a fucking Taylor Swift song. She was. Vibey and romantic, but with the uncanny ability to reach inside of you and grab your heart with her absolute specificity. Liz Buxbaum wasn’t just a redhead; no, she was a girl whose hair was the color of the late September maple leaves that fluttered on the home base tree in her front yard. And Liz Buxbaum didn’t just wear a sweater, for God’s sake. No, she wore an apple green cardigan that smelled like Chanel No.5 and the front seat of your car, where she’d left it for a week. She said it reminded her of the way the rain sounded on the roof the first time you kissed her.

It was true love, Ted. I looked over, saw this guy, and I totally lost my mind. I know he's loud and in-your-face, but whenever I look at him I feel a little weak-kneed. And when I drive him - forget about it. He's fast and wild and a little unruly, and I can feel his throaty rumbles all through my body when I bury that gas pedal. That beast has forever ruined me for all other vehicles.

Here’s the thing about kids, lady. They’re stupid with words. They say shit all the time that they don’t mean. They’re wrong, or they’re being emotional little shits—basically you have to understand that what they say isn’t what they mean.’ 

Trust me when I tell you that sometimes the person with the most ‘magical night possibility’ is the last person you’d expect. Sometimes there can be someone you’ve known forever, yet never really noticed.

And as we ran over the snow-packed pavement, I felt magically, wonderfully not like myself. I was the manic pixie dream girl in a movie, a character created solely to be uncomplicated, unexpected, and utterly unpredictable.

Was it easier, he wondered? I felt like I couldn’t answer that question because I refused to let it get easier. I thought about her a lot—every single day—and if I started doing that less, surely it’d get easier. But the easier it got, the more she’d disappear, right?

The truth was, I liked talking about my mom. Bringing her up in casual conversation-putting words about her out into the universe- felt like keeping a piece of her here with me, even though she had been gone so long already.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

How would you feel, If I told you I loved you?

God, the woman was cool. She had that pulled-together LA look about her, like she was ready to do a photo shoot for Vogue called Business Casual Chic.

We believe in you, Phoebe," Stella says. "You just have to believe in yourself." I roll my eyes behind the blindfold. As if that's not a cheesy, movie-of-the-week line.

What if we let people think we’re dating, but only for, like, a week?

I have no secrets,” he said, and I wondered if that were true.

Which kind of summed up the whole of my collective dating history, actually: meh.

I swear to God I will gut you with a vegetable peeler if you tell anyone.

Do we even discuss your beloved banana bread?" "It's worthy of felonious thievery, maybe, but not death.

Meteor shower tonight, if you're interested. I've got Swisher, fyi.

Oh, good Lord. Wes was honking.

My favourite thing about music- when you played it loud enough through good headphones - was that it softened the edges of the world.

And then I kissed him.

I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore.

Mr. Right—the nice-guy, dependable version—could be waiting around the very next corner.

Don’t cry, Liz.” He looked sad when he said it, like he wanted to cry too. Then he said, “Wait here.

Okay, don’t laugh. I’m looking for The Other Miss Bridgerton by Julia Quinn.

So where do you work?” “What?” He gestured to my dress. “Your uniform…?

okay, so tell me your three favorite things about UCLA so far." Liz Buxbaum, Liz Buxbaum and Liz Buxbaum

I love you, Elizabeth Buxbaum" "I love you more, Wesley Harold Bennett.

Y’know, Buxbaum, someday you might see it differently.” I tilted my head, crossed my arms, and said, “I was talking about you, Wes, not kissing in general.” His lips slid up into the dirtiest of smirks. “Oh, I know, Elizabeth.

He lifted his head and looked down at me, his dark eyes flashing with intensity. “Say it again.” I swallowed as his hands pressed mine into the door. I looked into his eyes and said, “I love you.” “Again,” he growled, his voice quiet, his eyes dark. He leaned his weight more heavily onto his palms and his body, into me, his throat moving around a swallow as he watched me. “I love you, Wes Bennett,” I confessed, wondering how I’d ever thought it was possible to deny this. “I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love you.

I thank her for starting that rumor in my brain that I was lovable. I thank her for her one-woman cult of blood, cum, spit, and razors that called me exquisite and shunned all the winners, cheerleaders, cops, and clear-skinned Hollywood movie stars.

Because there were no ties with Wes, no connections to anything painful. Prom dress shopping, on the other hand, was layered in melancholic bindings that made me feel a world of things I didn't want to feel.

Wes was looking at her. "You know how I feel about weirdos." "Yeah, well, I don't share your fondness. This one sent me to the back of the boarding line for cutting." "No shit?" He started laughing that contagious Wes Bennett cackle and said, "No wonder you're obsessed. There's just something about a girl who hates your guts." "I'm definitely not obsessed," I corrected him, knowing full well I was still staring at Glasses.

And then he’d given me a boyish grin and a kiss that made me forget my name.

I just need to know that happily ever after really exists.

I like you very much. Just as you are.

It seemed to me that because of things like car accidents and lost loves, life and death and broken hearts, we should grab every moment and absolutely devour the good parts.

Just like music had the power to transform a moment in film, I realized that the way I captured an athlete with my camera had the power to create a story.

It felt like I was on the precipice of everything finally happening.

We should grab every moment and absolutely devoid the good parts

He put his mouth next to my ear and said, “I was not ready for him to be here yet.

A bunch of girls stuck forks all over my front yard last year, and then one mooned us while running away. I shit you not, dudes.’ 

Wes Bennett had bought me shoes.

Ketchup hearts and raindrop kisses, Gracie Abrams and tear-soaked goodbyes. Noah Kahan on repeat for months.

If I were standing, I’m pretty sure I would’ve stumbled backward from the force of that tiny little six-letter word, crashing into my chest like an uppercut.

I exist to exist alongside you.

There will never be anyone else for me. Hard stop. So go have your think and do what you need to do. But Lizzie—we are worth the risk. We will always be. ( —Wes Bennett)

Is that song about a girl obsessed with her neighbor?

Life was unpredictable...no matter how much planning you did and no matter how safe you played it, some intangible was always going to rear its head and shake things up.

Because I don’t know if I’d say I’m an expert, but if you ever need any coaching, I’ve got all the tips you’ll ever need. I’m your guy—the guy—for mastering the art of the French kiss.

Wes: Liz is . . . different. She's the kind of girl who wears a dress when everyone wears jeans. She listens to music instead of watching TV. She drinks black coffee, has a secret tattoo, runs three miles every day rain or shine, and still practices the piano.

Don’t come up with a bullshit answer for the coach. You and I know both this first day of school is more than that to you, and I’m curious how it’s gone so far. What do you think of your classes?

How was this fair? The girl was wearing heavy makeup, a bedazzled catsuit, and a ridiculously huge bow smack-dab on the top of her head. She should’ve looked like Queen of the Clowns. But she looked cute. And the worst part was that she was unbelievably charming.

I’d seen Liz fight back tears before, and it was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed. Because Liz Buxbaum was supposed to be laughing and romantic - she’d been born in a daydream and been built on love stories, for God’s sake - so seeing her devastated was the worst.

He had kissed her long and good. We got banned from the pool forever that day, but every time we walked by after that, the lifeguard looked down from her tower, right over at Squints, and smiled.” —The Sandlot

THE SOUNDTRACK OF WES AND LIZ Someone Like You | Van Morrison Paper Rings | Taylor Swift Lovers | Anna of the North ocean eyes | Billie Eilish Bad Liar | Selena Gomez Public Service Announcement (Interlude) | Jay-Z Up All Night | Mac Miller How Would You Feel (Paean) | Ed Sheeran Hello Operator | The White Stripes Paradise | Bazzi Sabotage | Beastie Boys Feelin’ Alright | Joe Cocker Someone Like You | Adele Monkey Wrench | Foo Fighters Bella Luna | Jason Mraz Forrest Gump | Frank Ocean Electric (feat. Khalid) | Alina Baraz Kiss | Tom Jones Enter Sandman | Metallica Death with Dignity | Sufjan Stevens We Are Young | fun. feat. Janelle Monáe New Year’s Day | Taylor Swift River | Joni Mitchell

You’re wrong about Alex. She’s not flawless.” “Bennett, no one is totally flawless—come on.” I couldn’t believe his nerve. “She’s pretty dang close, though.” “I suppose.” “You suppose? What on earth could she possibly be lacking? Do you want bigger boobs or something? Is she not—” “She’s not you.” “What?” “She. Isn’t. You.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing?" "What do you mean?" "Are you being a dick about my hair? Because I know you're not complimenting me." "Lizzie," I said, pouring on the tease, even though I fucking loved her new hair. It was shorter and cute as hell, but no way could I give her a genuine compliment. We didn't do that. So I said, "Your hair is the stuff of cheerleader fantasy. Of main character daydreams. Your hair runs so that young gingers' hair can walk." She bit down on the inside of her cheek and-holy shit-looked like she wanted to laugh. "Are you high, Wes Bennett?

Neighborhood friends were like that. You grew up with them, running over hot sidewalks and yelling to each other across fresh-cut lawns, but once you got older, you became acquaintances born of proximity with nothing but a surface level of basic knowledge.

Wes had one of those naughty-boy faces, the kind of face where his dark eyes—surrounded by mile-long thick lashes because life wasn’t fair

You smell really good, but it isn’t your usual scent.” He didn’t put the car in drive but instead just looked at me. “My usual scent?

She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.” It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me. He raised one eyebrow, an unspoken question, and I realized at that moment that I wanted it. I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore. I wouldn’t run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes. Holy shit.

Everyone had forgotten her. But that's the way Penny was-- so quiet and unimportant that you could look right at her and never see her. Esther had no idea why Penny always showed up at Grandma's house on Sunday afternoons when they came to visit. She was just one of those nosy neighbors with no life of her own, who watched other people's lives as if watching a movie.

Wes had always been able to see through everything and just know. My thoughts, my reactions—he never missed a blush or a stammer, and he had the ability to catch any tell that my face might expose.

And you’ve screwed me up, Lib, because now I’m thinking in lyrics instead of original thoughts. I’m looking at you and trying to find the words to convince you to be with me, and do you know what comes into my head? You showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else. They aren’t my words, I don’t even know what song or album they’re from, for God’s sake, but it’s exactly how I feel. And you taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else—like, I can’t remember who wrote that, but I feel it down to the marrow in my bones. Being with you has changed the threads of my existence, I swear to God, so now being without you makes everything quieter, dimmer, and duller. So. Much. Smaller. And I fucking hate it.

As I worked my ass off to give my date the attention she deserved, a Taylor Swift song came on. I could hear the notes of "New Year's Day", the combination of melodious piano and Taylor's soft voice, and I held out for as long as I could. I was strong for a few minutes, but it was impossible for me not to look back in Liz's direction.

Then she ‘noticed’ my bloody knee and said I must’ve been so concerned about helping her that I hadn’t even realized I was bleeding. She cleaned me up, put on a Band-Aid, and gave me a Fudgesicle. Made me feel like a damned hero for face-planting on the sidewalk.” I laughed and looked up at the sky, my heart full. “That story is so on-brand for my mom.

I see all, young Michael.” He gave me an adorably playful look and said, “It’s actually ‘Michael Young.’ ” “Oh, yes,” I said, “That’s right.” “Well.” He retrieved the ball and bounced it through his legs, giving me a half smile that made me a bit light-headed. “If you can see all, you can probably see that Wesley kind of has a thing for you.” The song stopped with a record scratch.

To be honest, I hadn’t been emotionally prepared for the emptiness that seemed to accompany my senior year, the many reminders of my mom’s absence. Senior pictures, homecoming, college applications, prom, graduation; as everyone I knew got excited about those high school benchmarks, I got stress headaches because nothing felt the way I’d planned for it to feel. Everything felt… lonely.

Although, as I watched him sleep, it occurred to me that he was way more attractive than I'd originally thought. He was my age-we were both freshmen-so I should've noticed, but his personality had somehow distracted me from the length of his eyelashes, the thickness of his dark hair, the prominence of his Adam's apple, and the way he had the tiniest little dimple in his chin. He was, objectively speaking, a very cute guy. "You checking me out, Glasses?" Gah! His eyes remained closed as he said, "Swear to God I can hear you holding your breath. Relax and exhale, kid; it's okay to creep on me." "As if," I growled, irritated that I'd gotten busted, because the last thing on earth I wanted to do was stroke his ego. "I just thought you might be dead." "Worried?" "Hopeful.

She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.” It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me. He raised one eyebrow, an unspoken question, and I realized at that moment that I wanted it. I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore. I wouldn’t run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes.

She lowered her chin to look at me over her sunglasses. "If I hadn't covered my face in time, I'd probably have a broken nose right now." "I'd stop the bleeding with the shirt off my back if that happened, Lizzie." "Yeah, and I'd probably get a bacterial infection from your filthy jersey. Why don't you just take your little toy and go?" I really was insane, because I fucking loved going back and forth like this with her.

Are you high, Wes Bennett?” "I'll answer that if you answer this: Were you playing Beyoncé on the piano last night?" Her green eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "You heard me?" "The windows were open," I said, shrugging like it was the first time I'd ever heard her, "and I was having a smoke out back. So was it 'Halo'?" "You smoke?" She was looking at me like I was a puzzle, like she couldn't figure me out. "No. Was it?" The crinkle in her forehead grew somehow. "Yes. So ... do you or don't you?" "Like Beyonce? Fucking love her." She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother trying to have a conversation with you?" "Because you're fascinated and want to know more." She snorted. "Because you find me wildly attractive and need some insight into my soul?" "Try again." "Because you want to reconcile the data you've entered into your diary about me with the real-life, actual facts?" "So you are high.

Every time you jump the fence, it looks like it's going to topple over. Would it kill you to go through the gate?" "Your dad put a lock on it," I said, "so I can't anymore." "Oh-five, oh-four, two-one," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just put in the number, use the gate like a civilized human, and maybe don't even talk to me when you retrieve your misdirected sports paraphernalia. Zero contact would be cool." "But how could I tell you how much I like your new hair if I didn't speak?

My bad!" Charlie yelled as he jogged over. "I'll get it." I held out a hand. "Don't you fucking dare." "Still with that?" Charlie said, grinning and shaking his head like I was pathetic. I was pathetic. "I just enjoy messing with my neighbor, that's all." "Sure it is." I ignored him and charged over the fence, easily climbing it and dropping right into the Buxbaums' yard. The tree Liz was parked under was on the other side, bordering the other neighbors' fence, and she was facing my direction. The football was in the grass right beside her.