My Bff Quotes

Heather Awry (The Archers of Avalon, #2) “Okay, if my B-F-F goes rogue and starts trying to chop me into pieces, I fully expect your immortal hotness to protect me, got it?

I used to think someone needed to be my best friend before I'd burden her with my problems or my tears. Now I think those interactions--the sobfest or therapy session--are the encounters that earn someone BFF status.

Popular culture has made it okay to yell "I want a man!" from the rooftops, so why are we still embarrassed to say, "I want a best friend"?

I walked stiffly past the worst hussy of them all: my former BFF, who'd apparently decided to move in. Jessica had been at the restaurant every day for over two weeks. Most days more than once. I knew she was hot for my man, but holy cow. Clearly I'd have to say yes to Reyes soon. This was getting ridiculous. he needed a ring on his finger--and fast.

She's my BFF, do you know what that means? It means: Boy I will fuck up your face if you mess with my girl.

Some of the friendships I've found as an adult are far more rewarding than those forged out of the convenience of adolescence.

But on a Sunday morning when I want to grab an omelet over girl talk, I’m at a loss. My Chicago friends are the let’s-get-dinner-on-the-books-a-month-in-advance type. We email, trading dates until we find an open calendar slot amidst our tight schedules of workout classes, volunteer obligations (no false pretenses here, the volunteers are my friends, not me, sadly), work events, concert tickets and other dinners scheduled with other girls. I’m looking for someone to invite to watch The Biggest Loser with me at the last minute or to text “pedicure in half an hour?” on a Saturday morning. To me, that’s what BFFs are.

You're not boring. You're guarded and unusual and a little bit unbalanced, but you're not boring. I'm not BFF with boring people. It would ruin my highly crafted Tumblr brand.

We want you to tell us about vampires." Simon grinned. "What do you want to know? Scariest is Eli in Let the Right One In, cheesiest is late-era Lestat, most underrated is David Bowie in The Hunger. Sexiest is definitely Drusilla, though if you ask a girl, she'll probably say Damon Salvatore or Edward Cullen. But..." he shrugged, "You know girls." Julie's and Beatriz's eyes were wide. "I didn't think you'd know so many!" Beatriz exclaimed. "Are they... are they your friends?" "Oh, sure, Count Dracula and I are like this," Simon said, crossing his fingers to demonstrate. "Also Count Chocula. Oh, and my BFF Count Blintzula. He's a real charmer...." He trailed off as he realized no one else was laughing. In fact, no one seemed to realize he was joking. "They're from TV," he prompted them. "Or, uh, cereal." "What's he talking about?" Julie asked Jon, perfect nose wrinkling up in confusion. "Who cares?" Jon said.

I like this sweater,” I protest. Garrett glances at Allie. “Hi, I’m Garrett. What’s your name again?” “Allie. Hannah’s roommate and BFF.” “Great. Well, can you tell your roomie and BFF that she looks like a reject from a sailing show?” She laughs, and then, to my horror—Benedict Arnold!—she agrees with him. “It wouldn’t

You’re my BFF and I would shred someone’s skin from their body and shove their bones down their dead ass throat for you.

Okay,” Cooper says agreeably. “But what if you and Nigel fall in love, and Nigel and I become BFFs, and then you guys get married, and Nigel wants me to be the best man, and you and I have to talk about the wedding plans?” “That would never happen, because since Nigel would be so in love with me, he would have dumped you as a BFF as soon as we got engaged and/or told you you were not allowed to be best man at our wedding, per my wishes.” “Yes, but—” “Wait a minute,” I say. “Did you just say ‘BFF’?” “Yes,” he says. He looks at me and shrugs. “I’ve been watching a lot of Disney Channel.

The shower hadn't washed away the hurt, nor had it disguised the tear stains on my face. But I still felt a little better. As better as any vampire could feel after having her BFF drive a stake through her heart.

Then there’s the woman in my arms. She’s my future … my whole world … my lover … my wife … my BFF.

I like having plans. I like keeping them. Even if said plan is to spend an uninterrupted hour watching Friday Night Lights. If I pass the day excited about solo time on the couch with a glass of wine, pad thai, and Tim Riggins, it's hard to shift gears and muster up enthusiasm for an invitation when it comes my way.

Catcher, you're a boy. I've known you for like a week." Two months, actually, but who was counting? "I've known Merit for years. I mean, the sex is great and all, but she's my BFF." - Mallory

The evening makes me think Facebook is a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helps us keep track of people with whom we otherwise would have fallen out of touch. But sometimes relationships fade for a reason. They're better left a memory.

Oh, I see how it is. Baby finds her Johnny Castle, and all of a sudden, she forgets about the small matter of her BFF?” There was only one person in the world who could deliver that line with a straight face. Until I’d heard his voice, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed it. “Devon!” Chase stiffened as Dev’s name left my lips, and Devon beamed at me, doing a good impression of someone who hadn’t been bristling a moment before, when I’d buried myself in Chase’s arms. “In the flesh,” Devon said. “When you call, Bronwyn, I answer. Always.” It was a testament to the gravity of the moment that he didn’t treat everyone present to an impromptu performance of “Ain’t No Mountain.” Lest Devon decide the situation did call for some tunes, I pushed on.

Is there a word for the friendship version of cock-blocking? There should be.

People are always doing that in movies, staring out of windows to signify their hardships. I've tried a few times, but it was pretty boring.

Dear Tully-- I know you won't be able to stand my fucking funeral. You're not the star. I hope you at least had the photos of me airbrushed. There are so many things I should say to you, but in our lifetime we've said them all. Take care of Johnny and the kids for me, okay? Teach the boys how to be gentlemen and Marah how to be strong. When they're ready, give them my journal and tell them about me when they ask. The truth, too. I want them to know it all. It's going to be hard on you, now. That's one of the things I regret the most. So, here's what I have to say in my beyond-the-grave letter (very dramatic, don't you think?): I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me. There will always be a TullyandKate. BFF <3 Kate

Though I have started emailing with one of my fellow readers whenever there's something important to say about Modern Family or Friday Night Lights, and with another when I notice her updates on Goodreads.com.

I think the waiters and hostess are beginning to recognize me. They must either think I'm the most popular girl in Chicago or a lesbian seriously looking for The One. Either option is far less embarrassing than the truth: 'I'm here auditioning best friends forever!

Being the only stranger at dinner with a group of girls who are already close friends doesn't sound appealing at all. I'll have to pretend to laugh at stories I don't get about people I don't know. I'll probably stuff my face just to have something to do while they all gab about their ninth-grade English teacher or some other inside joke that makes me feel like an outsider. It's hard to know how to behave in those situations. You can jump right in, asking "Who?" and "Where was this?" or you can sit back and let them have their laughs. I almost always opt for the latter, sometimes to my detriment. What I think is letting them have their fun, they might takes as she-thinks-she's-too-cool.

Because while we all Facebook stalk, protocol is to not admit it. I might know, from status update, that a potential best friend swims laps every mornings, but it'd be creep to say "Don't worry about eating that doughnut, you deserve it after all those calories you burn!" Instead, I check out her profile and she reviews mine, but then we meet and pretend to know nothing.

Whether I like to admit it or not, anxiety has become my best friend. It's a crutch that helps me hobble through life. It's the brassy bitch at school that I don't like, but being her BFF makes me popular. Or the school bully that I don't really want to be around, but being his friend means I don't get beat up. I don't know how to be safe without it.

There is something about picking up a book you've never seen before, reading the blurb on its back cover and knowing that you could possibly enter a whole new fascinating world if you took that book home. And in a bookshop or library, this possibility feels infinite.

Even quilters have cliques! I can't stop picturing Regina George, fifty years later, instructing her minions that 'On Wednesdays, we wear pink.

but you were driving like a maniac and hit my car.

father shredding the side of my car like a block of cheese with his Lamborghini.

when Easton texts it to me (Are you hooking up with him? Good to know I have to find out about my BFF’s life from Vanity Fair!!!),

Hey, Connor! Sorry I must have butt-dialed you. So, do you want to tell me how it felt being on my ass?” she laughed. Ellery Black's BFF and her jokes.

I’m sarcastic and facetious. It’s hard to find those people on first encounter. I can be nice, but I don’t want nice friends. I want funny, gregarious, sarcastic, and smart friends.

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me chatting on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a list to man kind making your gender look bad aka octravious Shelton we are over

When I get back to my dorm room, there it is, staring at me from above my bed. The Vladimir Putin calendar. Ha! I guess Katerina got a copy of it for me after my drunken rant at the secret supper club about how I had to ironically have one. This is a girl after my own heart. You have to see this calendar. July: Vladimir Putin fly-fishing topless. March: Vladimir Putin smelling a flower. November: Vladimir Putin holding a puppy. I'm not kidding. Holding a puppy! I laugh to myself. Katerina sure has my number. Maybe she will be my BFF even after I go back to the States.

With some people there is easy conversation and not enough time in one meal to get out everything you want to tell her--all the things you didn't know you'd been holding in until you're suddenly confessing to Facebook-stalking ex-boyfriends and how nerdy you are for coveting the iPad--and with others there is that subtle but heavy weight of constantly trying to think of what you might say next to avoid an uncomfortable silence.

anything but eat grass and be cute! I’m never drinking again! Not even root beer!

It's about changing the way I think. Which sounds so simple, but whether I like to admit it or not, anxiety has become my best friend. It's a crutch that helps me hobble through life. It's the brassy bitch at school that I don't like, but being her BFF makes me popular. Or the school bully that I don't really want to be around, but being his friend means I don't get beat up. I don't know how to be safe without it. We're buddies. It's like they say: keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

That’s when I decide that prom is stupid. It’s just a dumb dance that might have meant something to the old me, but the new me doesn’t really give a flying frick. And that’s when Mark Baker, whom I now refer to as Galen’s BFF because of their testosterone-enhanced run-in last year, walks up to me. “You got your dress picked out for prom? Let me guess. It’s violet, to match your eyes.” I raise a brow at him. Since Galen has been gone, Mark has been awfully attentive. Not that Mark isn’t nice, and not that if it were a year ago, I’d be a babbling idiot if he took the time out of being godlike to ask what I planned on wearing for prom. But like everything else, Mark is so one year ago. And I don’t know if I like that. I shrug. “I’m probably not going.” Mark is not good at hiding surprise. “You mean Galen won’t allow you to-“ “Knock it off. I know you think Galen is controlling or whatever, but you’re wrong. And anyways, I can hold my own. If I wanted to go to prom, you can bet your sweet Aspercreme I’d be going.” Mark holds up his hands in surrender. “Simmer down, skillet. I was just asking a polite question. Did you want to talk about starving children or government conspiracy instead?” I laugh. I’d forgotten how easygoing Mark is. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood I guess.” “You think?” I punch his arm, then feel guilty about how flirty it looks. “Well, nobody’s perfect.” The bell rings and he starts walking backward, away from me. “But some people who shall remain nameless are pretty close to it.” He winks, then faces the other direction.

PROLOGUE   Zoey “Wow, Z, this is a seriously awesome turnout. There are more humans here than fleas on an old dog!” Stevie Rae shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked around at the newly lit-up campus. Dallas was a total jerk, but we all admitted that the twinkling lights he’d wrapped around the trunks and limbs of the old oaks gave the entire campus a magickal, fairy-like glow. “That is one of your more disgusting bumpkin analogies,” Aphrodite said. “Though it’s accurate. Especially since there are a bunch of city politicians here. Total parasites.” “Try to be nice,” I said. “Or at least try to be quiet.” “Does that mean your daddy, the mayor, is here?” Stevie Rae’s already gawking eyes got even wider. “I suppose it does. I caught a glimpse of Cruella De Vil, a.k.a. She Who Bore Me, not long ago.” Aphrodite paused and her brows went up. “We should probably keep an eye on the Street Cats kittens. I saw some cute little black and white ones with especially fluffy fur.” Stevie Rae sucked air. “Ohmygoodness, your mamma wouldn’t really make a kitten fur coat, would she?” “Faster than you can say Bubba’s drinkin’ and drivin’ again,” Aphrodite mimicked Stevie Rae’s Okie twang. “Stevie Rae—she’s kidding. Tell her the truth,” I nudged Aphrodite. “Fine. She doesn’t skin kittens. Or puppies. Just baby seals and democrats.” Stevie Rae’s brow furrowed. “See, everything is fine. Plus, Damien’s at the Street Cats booth, and you know he’d never let one little kitten whisker be hurt—let alone a whole coat,” I assured my BFF, refusing to let Aphrodite mess up our good mood. “Actually, everything is more than fine. Check out what we managed to pull off in a little over a week.” I sighed in relief at the success of our event and let my gaze wander around the packed school grounds. Stevie Rae, Shaylin, Shaunee, Aphrodite, and I were manning the bake sale booth (while Stevie Rae’s mom and a bunch of her PTA friends moved through the crowd with samples of the chocolate chip cookies we were selling, like, zillions of). From our position near Nyx’s statue, we had a great view of the whole campus. I could see a long line at Grandma’s lavender booth. That made me smile. Not far from Grandma, Thanatos had set up a job application area, and there were a bunch of humans filling out paperwork there. In the center of the grounds there were two huge silver and white tents draped with more of Dallas’s twinkling lights. In one tent Stark and Darius and the Sons of Erebus Warriors were demonstrating weaponry. I watched as Stark was showing a young boy how to hold a bow. Stark’s gaze lifted from the kid and met mine. We shared a quick, intimate smile

You have to believe that people will be open to your advances. We psych ourselves out of approaching a potential BFF or emailing a role model because it seems far-fetched that they'd want to be friends or network with us in return. But, as has always been the case this year, people are happy to make new connections.

and drew her strength directly from our magickal Oklahoma earth. “U-we-tsi-a-ge-ya, it seems I need help at the lavender booth. I simply cannot believe how busy we are.” Grandma had barely spoken when a nun hurried up. “Zoey, Sister Mary Angela could use your help filling out cat adoption forms.” “I’ll help you, Grandma Redbird,” Shaylin said. “I love the smell of lavender.” “Oh, honey, that would be so sweet of you. First, could you run to my car and get into the trunk. There is another box of lavender soaps and sachets tucked back there. Looks like I’m going to sell out completely,” Grandma said happily. “Sure thing.” Shaylin caught the keys Grandma tossed to her and hurried toward the main exit of the school grounds which led to the parking lot, as well as the tree-lined road that joined Utica Street. “And I’ll call my momma. She said just let her know if we get too busy over here. She and the PTA moms will be back here in a sec,” said Stevie Rae. “Grandma, do you mind if I give Street Cats a hand? I’ve been dying to check out their new litter of kittens.” “Go on, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya. I think Sister Mary Angela has been missing your company.” “Thanks, Grandma.” I smiled at her. Then I turned to Stevie Rae. “Okay, if your mom’s group is coming back, I’m gonna go help the nuns.” “Yeah, no problem.” Stevie Rae, shielding her eyes and peering through the crowd, added, “I see her now, and she’s got Mrs. Rowland and Mrs. Wilson with her.” “Don’t worry. We can handle this,” Shaunee said. “’Kay,” I said, grinning at both of them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left the cookie booth and noticed Aphrodite, clutching her big purple Queenies cup, was right on my heels. “I thought you didn’t want a lecture from the nuns.” “Better than a lecture from PTA moms.” She shuddered. “Plus, I like cats more than people.” I shrugged. “Okay, whatever.” We’d only gotten partway to the Street Cats tent when Aphrodite slowed way down. “Seriously. Effing. Pathetic.” She was muttering around her straw, narrowing her eyes, and glaring. I followed her gaze and joined her frown. “Yeah, no matter how many times I see them together, I still don’t get it.” Aphrodite and I had stopped to watch Shaunee’s ex-Twin BFF, Erin, hang all over Dallas. “I really thought she was better than that.” “Apparently not,” Aphrodite said. “Eeew,” I said, looking away from their way too public display of locked lips. “I’m telling you, there’s not enough booze in Tulsa to make watching those two suck face okay.” She made a gagging sound, which changed to a snort and a laugh. “Check out the wimple, twelve o’clock.” Sure enough, there was a nun I vaguely recognized as Sister Emily (one of the more uptight of the nuns) descending on the too-busy-with-their-tongues-to-notice couple. “She looks serious,” I said. “You know, a nun may very well be the direct opposite of an aphrodisiac. This should be entertaining. Let’s watch.” “Zoey! Over here!” I looked from the train wreck about to happen to see Sister Mary Angela waving me over to her.

Friendship intimacy calls for whoever is on the receiving end of the information to offer "hefty helpings of emotional expressiveness and unconditional support." Yet, as Karbo points out, they can't be too opinionated. So if I'm enraged that Matt canceled our Friday night plans, again, she better huff and puff and agree it was lame of him, but she would never say "He's such an ass, I've never liked him." Such are the unwritten rules of friendship.

Two starving kids and tree-hugging vegetarians. I’m going to kill Chase.” Phoebe didn’t blame him. Despite her lack of experience in the cattle-drive department, even she could see the potential for trouble. Then a familiar figure standing beside the driver caught her attention, and she waved. Maya grinned and waved back. “It’s Maya,” Phoebe said. Zane turned and followed her gaze. “Just perfect,” he muttered as his ex-stepsister walked toward them. “You’re looking grim, Zane,” Maya said cheerfully when she joined them. “Who died?” She smiled. “Oh, I forgot. You’re just being your usual charming self.” She squeezed his arm. “You’ve missed me, I know.” Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Like foot fungus.” She laughed and turned to Phoebe. “You’re still alive. I see Zane didn’t bore you to death.” “Not even close.” Phoebe hugged her friend. Maya waved forward the bus driver, a pretty woman in her fifties. “Phoebe, this is Elaine Mitchell.” “You’re the one Maya worked for in high school?” Phoebe asked. “I am.” Maya put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. “And this is my BFF, Phoebe.” “Welcome to Fool’s Gold,” Elaine said with a smile. Instead of her usual suit and high heels, Maya wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and boots. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid. “You look like a local,” Phoebe said. “Speaking of locals,” Maya began, a note of warning in her voice. “Oh, shit,” Zane said before she could continue. Phoebe looked toward the bus and immediately saw why Zane’s face had gone a little ashen. The two crazy old women who had cornered her at his truck in town had just gotten off the bus. Eddie and Gladys, if she remembered right. The skinny one was wearing stiff, dark blue jeans and a plaid Western shirt with pearly snaps along the front. The plump one, who still looked as if she had asked for one of everything at the cosmetic counter, was wearing jeans, too, and leather chaps with fringe along the sides. They both had cowboy hats perched atop their white curls. Besides her Zane muttered under his breath. She caught a handful of words. Something about being old, broken bones and a reference to hanging Chase from the lightning rod in the middle of a storm.

I sent off a quick text to Dylan. You will die a painful death, and I will smile in glee as I torture you slowly. His reply was instant. Good morning, sunshine. :) Have a good night? Clenching my teeth together, I gripped my cell and shot off: Death. Dooming death, you lying little shit. Dylan: I can see you’re not in a good mood. Remember I love you. Me: You lied to me, you sack of crap. Dylan: All for your own good. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be BFFs now, would we? Me: Not the same when my BFFF is NOT GAY and saw my boobs. Dylan: Nice set they are. Why is there an extra F in BFF? Me: Best fucking friend forever. Dylan: Now, now sunshine. Me: You left me with your brother, who is MY BOSS, and he saw my boobs. I said things to him, called him handsome, climbed him, hugged him…

My hard-on was instant, painful, and desperate, making those I had for my BFF PG-13. Yet, Simone pushes my buttons in every fucking thing in my life, and her arousing me is always an X-rated experience.

My mom is my BFF and the most loving, caring, understanding, independent and gifted woman I know. Without her strength, optimism and belief, we two wouldn’t have made it. Life was not easy on both of us. We had to overcome many obstacles and disappointments. If anyone else had experienced what my mom had as a single-mother, they wouldn’t have survived life.

500+ contacts, 100+ friends..! 30+ close friends..! But, still, I dial, Those 9 numbers..! When I need to, Share my heart..! When I need to, See my besties...!

daring

Name … Cookie Haque – well, kind of.1 Parents … Abed and Rozie. Sisters … Nahid and Roubi. Age … Nine, although I feel I am more mature than this. Pets … Really want one. Star Sign … Don’t believe in all that. I mean, how could somebody’s whole personality be determined by random stars or what month they’re born in? Makes no sense. E.g. I’m supposed to be a Scorpio but their traits include being jealous, negative, secretive and resentful. I am NONE of those! Best friend … Keziah, Keziah, always and forever Keziah. BFF. Hobbies … I love drawing and doodling. My current favourite doodle is a hedgehog. I like drawing it with different hairstyles. I love long words and chatting too, if you count that as a hobby! I used to collect sachets of stuff, anything really … salt, pepper, shampoo, all sorts – but I’ve given up on that now. I’ve collected so many different types of things: coins, stamps, acorns. No idea why I collected acorns. Random! Favourite Teacher … Ms Krantz Favourite Subject … Science. How can anybody not love science? I like it because it explains EVERYTHING. It’s thanks to science that human beings can build buildings that don’t fall down, design cars and planes that don’t crash and make medicines to help us get better. Without progress in science we’d all still be cavemen running around in rabbit skins with sticks! No houses, no TVs, no iPads! We owe science A LOT. Favourite Food … I love all food except for pork. We don’t eat pork in my family cos we’re Muslim. My favourite sandwich is coronation chicken and my favourite food at the moment is a roast dinner but it changes all the time. I just love food! Favourite Colour … Favourite colour for what? Just because I like wearing green clothes doesn’t mean I want to paint my house green! What a dumb question! More Stuff About Me … I do a good Bart Simpson impression. CHAPTER 1 Animal Lover

Diane is my BFF,

claustrophobic. But I will make you my grandma’s secret recipe for chicken parmigiana in return for your answers to a few questions about Navy life. I’ll even throw in garlic bread if you happen to know anything about SEALs. No sex, please; I’m on a deadline.

To think I got the impression you weren’t a fan.

hope we didn’t hit a deer! I love deer!

David up before he calls a driver

What are you doing picking up David in the suburbs anyway?

guessed Conrad read all of this on my face, because he said in that mocking, careless way of his, “So can you do that for me, Belly? Can you keep a secret from your BFF Jeremiah? I know you two don’t keep secrets from each other, but can you handle it just this once?” When I glared at him, all ready to tell him what he could do with his secret, he said, “Please?” and his voice was pleading. So I said, “All right. For now.

I guessed Conrad read all of this on my face, because he said in that mocking, careless way of his, “So can you do that for me, Belly? Can you keep a secret from your BFF Jeremiah? I know you two don’t keep secrets from each other, but can you handle it just this once?” When I glared at him, all ready to tell him what he could do with his secret, he said, “Please?” and his voice was pleading. So I said, “All right. For now.

Wasn’t a woman badly hurt when a wild boar suddenly charged her from behind?

Bailey: When you get here, can you come to the front door? Chase: And say hi to my BFF Morrison? It would be my pleasure.

Single and ready to mingle.

If you ever land in a situation you can’t handle, call me.” She let out a raspy laugh. “And you’ll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they’re sending recently enlisted marines these days?” “Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I’ll find a way to help. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. You’re like family to me, Josie. And I’m always here for you.” “Like family?” She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?” “No, I’m doing this because I care about you,” he growled. She

I haven’t even checked to see if my Heart-2-Heart pal wrote back.” Madison plucked at the fuzzy strands of yarn on her pillow. “You should. I love this program! We can tell each other anything. It’s so great!” “And this guy’s name is Blue?” Piper’s voice sounded doubtful. “I don’t remember any kid at school named Blue. There was that one guy we called Green in our chem lab, remember? But I think we called him that because his last name was Green and we could never remember his first name.” Madison giggled even more. She was feeling like a fizzy soda pop, bubbly all over. “Oh, Piper, his name isn’t really Blue. That’s just his nickname.” “Do you have a nickname?” “Of course,” Madison said. “But I don’t want to tell you what it is. You’ll think it’s ridiculous.” “I can’t believe you won’t tell me,” Piper protested. “I’m your BFF. We share everything!” “I know…”” “Come on, tell me!” Piper pleaded. “Look, I told you about the time I wet my pants in second grade, and that I had a total crush on Mr. Proctor, our fifth-grade teacher. And last year, when I--” “This is different, Piper,” Madison tried to explain. “We can tell our deepest secrets to our Heart-2-Heart pal because they don’t know who we are.” “I just can’t believe this,” Piper continued in a really hurt voice. “Didn’t I tell you about that D I almost got in Algebra I and the secret tutor I had to hire to bring up my grade? God, I even told you about that mole on my butt that I had to have removed. If that’s not a deep secret, I don’t know what is.” “Okay, okay!” Madison sat up. “I’ll tell you. It’s Pinky.” There was a long pause. “Pinky? That’s ridiculous.” “See?” Madison shouted into the phone. “I knew you’d say that.” She got up and crossed to her vanity mirror. She tousled her hair with one hand to make it stand up. “It had to do with dyeing my hair pink.” There was an even longer pause. “You’re not going to do that, are you?” Piper asked quietly. “Because I don’t think it will help the campaign. Oh, it might steal a few votes from Jeremy--but do we really need them? I’m not sure.” “Piper, relax,” Madison said. “I was just joking about doing it.

After a year or two of sitting out, being called out, and sometimes being left out, I was sent to the office, and arrived to find God waiting for me. At least that’s who I thought it was. It turned out to be a bishop. He handed me a mimeographed copy of the Nicene Creed and we went through it, line by line. When we were done, he handed me a note to take home to my parents. The note read, “Brené is Catholic now.” Still, things were relatively good for the next couple of years as I started to get into the groove of my new life in New Orleans, mostly because I had the best BFF in the world—

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me chatting on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a list to man kind making your gender look bad aka i dont have to say who u are u know u are OVER

Fuck u for saying I love u knowing u didn't mean what u said u when u know my uncle was dead telling people u broke up with me cheating on me with my bff knowing she a was wanting a boyfriend your a lier to man kind making your gender look bad aka i dont have to say who u are u know u are OVER

I did send you her measurements.

When I went to meet you, Bruno told me what was going on.” “Bruno did?” I ask, shocked. Morgan’s eyes widen as she deciphers the other half of the conversation. “Yeah, he brought me to the apartment and had me copy down your contact info since we’re totally lame and never exchanged on our own.” “Totally lame,” I agree. “I can’t believe you guys actually conversed.” “Please, he’s my new BFF.

When I went to meet you, Bruno told me what was going on.” “Bruno did?” I ask, shocked. Morgan’s eyes widen as she deciphers the other half of the conversation. “Yeah, he brought me to the apartment and had me copy down your contact info since we’re totally lame and never exchanged on our own.” “Totally lame,” I agree. “I can’t believe you guys actually conversed.” “Please, he’s my new BFF.” Darren cough-laughs. “So, what are you up to today?” “Morgan and I are just hanging out by the pool.” “Oh yeah? Hey, pass the phone to her for a minute.” “To Morgan?” “Yeah, I still need to thank her for making you that little journal thing.” “Okay…hang on.” I hold the phone out to her and she raises an eyebrow expertly. I mouth he wants to talk to you and she takes it from me. “Hello? Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too…Wha--Oh.” She holds up a finger, wraps a towel around her waist and whispers, “I’ll be right back,” before scampering into the house. “Do you have to take him with you?” I shout after her. I grunt and return to my journal. I write a few lines but it’s impossible to concentrate.

Plus, research shows that being a part of a group that meets just once a month will give you the same increase in happiness as doubling your salary.

Tomorrow would be a new day filled with uncertainty and very possibly danger, but right now all was right with my world. “Come on, baby. Let’s go home,” Hank said. “Will you guys be okay?” I asked my granny and BFF. “Oh, hell yeah. We’re gonna play Twister and then try on wigs and girdles,” Granny informed us. Hank seemed confused, so I pushed him out the door before he asked questions he didn’t want the answers to. “That visual was disturbing,

cooking with mud was rolling around in it until only our eyes weren’t caked with brown sludge. I loved him on our hour-long bike rides when we played Would You Rather until we had to pull off to the side of the road because we were laughing so hard. I loved him through high school when he was the obsession of almost every girl at our school, but he always put me first. I loved him when he became my first boyfriend and showed me what it felt like to be cherished. I loved him over our long-distance relationship when receiving his text messages would make my day. And I love him now as he gets ready to commit his life to another woman. I will love him forever, and no amount of time or varying circumstances are going to change that. Jax is my best friend. He will always hold the other half of my heart in the figurative BFF necklace that we share. He will be my friend forever. I hop onto my bed and lie back as I click my phone screen, pulling up my Favorites list. My thumb hovers over his name. I take a deep breath and touch his name. My heart thrums wildly as his phone rings twice on the other end. His voice comes through my earpiece, and I almost cry from happiness. I can move to New York tomorrow with no regrets because the world is right as long as Jax and I are friends again. “Little Love.” His voice sounds anxious, hesitant. “Hey, mister.” Another rogue tear escapes, but this tear is full of happiness.

time, but act like she’s not as smart as someone else, and she changes from cuddly kitten to ferocious tiger.

I stared at him. “You got yourself a girlfriend? Don’t you think ten is too young for that?” I knew it was bogus as soon as I said it. Clara Dean and Luke Monroe were sweet on each other, and they were in the fifth grade too. But something tightened in my belly at the thought of Matt finding himself a new best friend.

Tears filled my eyes and I tried not to laugh at the thought of my son being raised by a gay Vampyre with eight adopted violent, yet sweet, Were Cow daughters but a small smile made its way to my trembling lips. “I believe she asked me,” Essie corrected her BFF. “Please,” Dwayne huffed. “You and Hank travel too much and if you become Council members it would be awfully hard to hide a Dragon.” “You think you’re up to raising a preschool fire-breather, Bagina Man?” Essie inquired with a smirk. “Yes, I do I Wipe My HooHoo with Poison Ivy,” he shot back.

As he takes my hand, it catches fire at his touch.

Do you have to do that to fly? I didn't think… oh my freakin' hell, Dwayne! Button the bottom of your coat. Your man bits are blowing in the wind." I groaned as I buried my muzzle in my paws. "When did you become such a prude?" Dwayne huffed as he adjusted his coat. "I'm not a prude," I snapped. "It's just alarming to look up and see my BFF's weenie and friends bouncing in the breeze." "Fair point, well made," he said. "I would find it disturbing to glance up at a faceful of your knockers too.