Lynn Painter 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.

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

Music made everything better.

Be brave enough to go big.

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

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.

Also—thanks to Taylor Swift, for writing songs that feel like books.

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 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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

When you’re in the room, every single cell in my body – every nerve, every muscle, every breath – is lost in you.

I had a marvelous time ruining everything

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

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.

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.

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

There was never anyone else for me but you.

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

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.

We were both grinning, and for some reason, I felt an invisible string pulling me closer to her as she smiled up to me.

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

I fell in love with you on Valentine’s day, Emilie, but I need more than just seven minutes.

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

I exist to exist alongside of you.

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

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.

Karma was supposed to be a cat, dammit, not this.

I love you, Nick Stark... It won't count tomorrow and it'll be like I never said it, but on this Valentine's Day, I fell in love with you.

He teased relentlessly and was the funniest person I’d ever met, yet I knew for a fact that he listened to Conan Gray and Gracie Abrams on repeat all the time (I had his Spotify password).

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.

This wasn't about boys and girls and love and attraction, this was about a human soul needing to feel seen.

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

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.

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.

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

Yes, Emilie Hornby, I'm here to tell you that I'm a little obsessed with you. With this... With us.

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.

Getting under her skin was my new favourite hobby.

Can you pretty please wear the Chucks?

You are fucking gorgeous when you’re kiss drunk, Mitchell, did you know that?

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.

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

Maybe karma was a girl in glasses.

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.

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

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

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

But the thing about relationships was that no one else knew the quiet, tiny moments that belong exclusively to you two. Those were the things that made you hold tight because you were the only one he’d shown that side of himself to. No one else knew.

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

And by "prefer lighter reading," she meant that she read five or six romance novels. A week

It was time to get Liz Buxbaum back.

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.

I wasn’t sure how she knew me so well, how she’d somehow always seen me.

We're not strangers, Nick Stark.' His half-smile went wide and whole. 'That's right--we're partners.

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

I know that I'm the only one who truly cares about my happiness, so I make it a priority

I remember everything about you, Em.

He kissed me like he was trying to prove something.

Maybe but the bottom line is, now that I’ve seen what Bay could be to me, seeing her as just a friend is impossible.

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.

No one wore lovesick like my Libby.

He swallowed again, his throat moving hard before he said, "I love you. I know I screwed everything up and I know we were going to keep it casual, but I somehow fell in love with you. I can't believe it myself, but in spite of our lifetime of hatred for each other, I am completely lost without you in my life.

Don't you think it's weird that before today--' 'We didn't really know each other, and now it feels like we've known each other for years?

You and I, though – we were us.” “Us?” “Magical, comfortable, Colorado us. We were everything together.

It was like the line in You've Got Mail. "All this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings.

A thousand inside jokes stood between my heart and closure.

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.

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.

She was twenty things that annoyed me, all rolled into one, but there was something oddly relaxing being around her.

When things don't go as planned, we can either pout and behave like a reticent child, or take some time to reconsider our choices. Ruminate over what we've done in our past, and how best to move forward in our future.

How positively scandalous of you, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth Fucking Bennett

For The Lonely, The Daydreamers, The ones who find their friends between the pages of books— YOU MATTER, and your happy ending WILL come. Sometimes the wait is just longer in real life than in fiction.

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

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.

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

Maybe I should give him a taste of the Bailey special.” “Cow tongue on toasted bread.” “No. it’s Moldova but with my hands on his chest.” “Don’t you fucking dare.” “You don’t want me to kiss him.” “Your call on that. But Moldova is mine.

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.

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.

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.

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.

You get what I mean. On a normal day when you're feeling less than positive, force yourself to change your thinking. Instead of 'It sucks that I have to go to school,' think 'It's such a nice day that maybe after school I will recline the seat of my truck and read a good book while the breeze still smells like springtime.

Instead of handing it over, I tossed it onto the floor and said, "I keep telling Mr. Wrong Number I don't need him anymore but he just won't let me go." He tossed his phone beside mine and rolled on top of me. "Can you blame him? When you find your perfect Misdial, you can't let her go.

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.

I was never going to get another text from Bay. I was never going to make her forehead crinkle with my words, or hear her laugh in that surprised way she had when she tried and failed to suppress it, never going to hear her quiet intake of breath when she realised we were about to kiss, and never going to hear her sleepily say ‘G’night, Charlie’ on the other end of the phone. A thousand tiny nothing moments that were collectively every fucking thing I’d ever wanted.

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?

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.

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.