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.

Music made everything better.

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

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.

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

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,

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

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.

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.

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 had a marvelous time ruining everything

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

There was never anyone else for me but you.

I exist to exist alongside of 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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

Maybe karma was a girl in glasses.

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

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.

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.

Getting under her skin was my new favourite hobby.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

Everything was wrong if she wasn’t happy. Because Dani was sparkling eyes and contagious laughter. Dani was happiness.

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

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

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.

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

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

The rest of the world just disappears for you when you’re reading doesn’t it? Yes, thank God

It took losing her for me to realize that loving her wasn’t even a risk.

Can you pretty please wear the Chucks?

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

I love you, Glasses." "I love you, too Mr. Nothing

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

Holy shit, Liz Buxbaum knows my scent.

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.

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 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?

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.

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

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

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

I remember everything about you, Em.

A thousand inside jokes stood between my heart and closure.

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

How can someone be so interesting and irritating, all at the same time?

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?

No one wore lovesick like my Libby.

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.

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

Elizabeth Fucking Bennett

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.

He kissed me like he was trying to prove something.

I had a cousin who neurotically made playlists for every walking moment of her life, and that slightly obsessive habit had rubbed off on me,

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 wanted you in fourth grade, when you launched me off that water pillow and broke two of my ribs,” he said, his eyes narrowed on me behind his glasses like he could still see us at the lake. “I wanted you in sixth grade, when I drove over your foot with my dad’s ATV. I wanted you when Mr. Pockets got hit by a car and you cried as hard as I did, I wanted you when you kissed the shit out of me in the shed, and now, God help me, I want you when you shattered my fucking heart to keep me from ruining my own future.

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.