Nick And Charlie Quotes

Nick and Charlie! Are the two of you coming, or-Oh. You're being gay. Good job. Carry on.

You're... it's hard to explain. It's like, if you had to provide evidence for soul mates, everyone would pick you two.

*Tori opens the door onto Nick and Charlie kissing* "What's up" - Charlie "I got those pens you wanted" - Tori "Oh. Thanks" "..." "What??" *Tori glances at Nick* "well done" said smirkly BAHAHAHA GO GURL GO!!

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula 1, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me.

Maybe you can't help him, darling. I know you love him so, so much. I'm sure he loves you too. And I know you feel like it's your job to "save him". I know it feels like you are both each other's whole world, but that dependency isn't healthy for either of you. Charlie needs helo from someone who isn't his sixteen-year-old boyfriend. He needs help from a doctor or a therapist, someone who knows about eating disorder and how to treat them. Love can't cure a mental illness. There are lots of ways to help him, you can just be there. To listen. To talk. To cheer him up if he's having a bad day. And on the bad days you can ask what to could do to make things easier. Stand by his side, even when things are hard. But also knowing that sometimes people need more support than just one person can give. That's love darling" - Sarah Nelson (Nick's mum)

I can't really remember when Nick and Charlie became Nick-and-Charlie, but Nick is the only one who visited Charlie when he was ill, so in my books... he's definitely alright.

You're going to be blue forever

Honestly I'm having a full on Gay Crisis

I wake up because the sun is in my eyes – I forgot to close my curtains last night. I forgot to do a lot of things last night. Like be a decent human being.

Having not seen him for over two weeks, just the sight of him makes me want to run up to him and kiss him and hold him and not let go of him for at least twenty minutes. I clench my fists and stay very still as he walks up to me. God, everything about him is so perfect.

you’re Nick and Charlie.’ I laugh. ‘What does that mean?’ ‘It’s …’ He laughs too, a nervous expulsion of air. ‘You’re … it’s hard to explain. It’s like, if you had to provide evidence for soul mates, everyone would pick you two.

*Charlie broke his ankle and Nick carrying him to the nurse* "That's a big g-" "OKAY BACK TO THE GAME LADS" bahaha i love the coach

Exactly. Two idiots in love. Couple goals.

By the time I'm nine I know the world is a dangerous place.  I've heard whispers about razorblades in apples, about Charlie Manson and his family.  But no one is offering any clear information.

I just check my phone for the six hundred billionth time. And there’s nothing, of course. Nothing.

It's like, if you had to provide evidence for soul mates, everyone would pick you two.

Everyone knows psychology A Level came straight out of hell.

Nick is the best and most important person I have ever met.

Nick and Charlie! Are the two of you coming or.. Oh. You're being gay. Good job. Carry on.

Nick laughs and wraps his arms around me. ‘Okay, fine, I love you more than my dogs.’ ‘Good.’ ‘I love you more than anyone, actually.’ He says this a little quieter. I move my head out from the crook of his neck so I can meet his eyes. ‘Is that weird?’ he continues, and then huffs out a small laugh. ‘I’m only eighteen.’ ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Maybe.’ It is weird. We both know it’s weird. We both know we’re weird, we’re not like other couples our age. It’s weird that we hang out every single day, it’s weird that we’d rather just be with each other all the time. Every day we wonder when we’re going to stop feeling like this and get over our teenage relationship. But it never happens. We just keep on going. Because it’s good too. God, it’s so good. ‘I’m weird too,’ I say, because saying ‘I love you more than anyone too’ back to him doesn’t feel quite adequate, even though I honestly love him more than anyone else in the entire world. Nick squeezes me and says, ‘Yeah,’ because he already knows.

I think acting is revealing to people what it means to be human.

He was bawling his eyes out and hugging everyone, including some scared-looking Year 7s who just wanted to catch their bus.

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula I, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me.

I find his hand and take it in mine. I lean against him and he still smells like him. Like home.

I wake up because the sun is in my eyes - I forgot to do a lot of things last night. I forgot to do a lot of things last night. Like a decent human being.

Nothing like a post-sex candid.

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rougby and Formula 1, animals (espacially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felttips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me. His hair is dark blond and his eyes are brown and he is two inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion.

His hair is dark blond and his eyes are brown and he is two inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he’s pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion.

On the drive back, Charlie falls asleep in my car. I turn the radio on and thank the universe that my life is like this.

I used to think I was pathetic for thinking soppy, romantic stuff like that. I don’t anymore. I just keep thinking it. I keep wanting him here. I keep wanting him to stay.

It's like, if you had to provide evidence for soulmates, everyone would pick you two.

I love this. I love us. I love our weird, boring life.

During the night, I have one of those dreams that aren’t really dreams at all, just stuff about Laura fucking Ray, and Marco fucking Charlie, and I’m pleased to wake up in the middle of the night, because it means stopping the dream. But the pleasure only lasts a few seconds and then everything sinks in: that somewhere Laura really is fucking Ray (maybe not exactly now, because it’s 3:56 a.m., although with his stamina – his inability to climax, ha ha – you never know), and I’m here, in this stupid little flat, on my own, and I’m thirty-five years old, and I own a tiny failing business, and my friends don’t seem to be friends at all but people whose phone numbers I haven’t lost And if I went back to sleep and slept for forty years and woke up without any teeth to the sound of Melody Radio in an old people’s home, I wouldn’t worry that much, because the worst of life, i.e. the rest of it, would be over. And I wouldn’t even have had to kill myself.

The Beatles were bubblegum cards and Help at the Saturday morning cinema and toy plastic guitars and singing 'Yellow Submarine' at the top of my voice in the back row of the coach on school trips. They belong to me, not to me and Laura, or me and Charlie, or me and Alison Ashworth, and though they'll make me feel something, they won't make me feel anything bad.

Most days, for the last dozen or so years, I attributed to Charlie, or at least to our breakup, most things that have gone wrong for me. Like: I wouldn't have packed in college; I wouldn't have gone to work in Record and Tape; I wouldn't have had an unsatisfactory personal life. This is the woman who broke my heart, who ruined my life, this woman is single-handedly responsible for my poverty and directionlessness and failure, the woman I dreamed about regularly for a good five years.

Dialogue in the works of autobiography is quite naturally viewed with some suspicion. How on earth can the writer remember verbatim conversations that happened fifteen, twenty, fifty years ago? But 'Are you playing, Bob?' is one of only four sentences I have ever uttered to any Arsenal player (for the record the others are 'How's the leg, Bob?' to Bob Wilson, recovering from injury the following season; 'Can I have your autograph, please?' to Charlie George, Pat Rice, Alan Ball and Bertie Mee; and, well, 'How's the leg, Brian?' to Brian Marwood outside the Arsenal club shop when I was old enough to know better) and I can therefore vouch for its absolute authenticity.

You know … Elle and Tao breaking up.

I wanted you to be the first to know that me and Elle are getting back together.

Everyone knows psychology A level comes straight out of hell.

I didn’t make a nuisance of myself, not until the end, anyway, and I never outstayed my welcome, not while there was still a welcome to be outstayed; but I was kind and sincere and thoughtful and devoted and I remembered things about her and I told her she was beautiful and bought her little presents that usually referred to a conversation we had had recently. None of this was an effort, of course, and none of it was done with any sense of calculation: I found it easy to remember things about her, because I didn’t think about anything else, and I really did think she was beautiful, and I would not have been able to prevent myself from buying her little presents, and I did not have to feign devotion. There was no effort involved. So when one of Charlie’s friends, a girl called Kate, said wistfully one lunchtime that she wished she could find somebody like me, I was surprised and thrilled. Thrilled because Charlie was listening, and it didn’t do me any harm, but surprised because all I had done was act out of self-interest. And yet this was enough, it seemed, to turn me into someone desirable. Weird

But I want to see Clara, Charlie's friend, who's right up my street. I want to see her because I don't know where my street is; I don't even know which part of town it's in, which city, which country, so maybe she'll enable me to get my bearings.

Somebody else at the table said, “Nick, I don’t think Charlie was Catholic.” Nick Rovito looked indignant and said, “Who cares what the hell Charlie was? No church on earth can give you a send-off like the Catholic Church. Whadaya want, a bunch a Quakers sitting around, looking gloomy, spoiling the whole occasion?” Nobody had wanted that, so Charlie was getting a good Catholic send-off, with Latin lyrics and sharp costuming and good strong incense and a lot of holy water and the whole complete routine.

What’s going on?’ she said. ‘Talk to me.’ ‘I …’ I looked down. I didn’t want her to see me. But Rooney was looking at me, eyebrows furrowed, so many thoughts churning behind her eyes, and it was that look that made me start spilling everything out. ‘I just care about you so much … but I’ve always got this fear that … one day you’ll leave. Or Pip and Jason will leave, or … I don’t know.’ Fresh tears fell from my cheeks. ‘I’m never going to fall in love, so … my friendships are all I have, so … I just … can’t bear the idea of losing any of my friends. Because I’m never going to have that one special person.’ ‘Can you let me be that person?’ Rooney said quietly. I sniffed loudly. ‘What d’you mean?’ ‘I mean I want to be your special person.’ ‘B-but … that’s not how the world works, people always put romance over friendships –’ ‘Says who?’ Rooney spluttered, smacking her hand on the ground in front of us. ‘The heteronormative rulebook? Fuck that, Georgia. Fuck that.’ She stood up, flailing her arms and pacing as she spoke. ‘I know you’ve been trying to help me with Pip,’ she began, ‘and I appreciate that, Georgia, I really do. I like her and I think she likes me and we like being around each other and, yep, I’m just gonna say it – I think we really, really want to have sex with each other.’ I just stared at her, my cheeks tear-stained, having no idea where this was going. ‘But you know what I realised on my walk?’ she said. ‘I realise that I love you, Georgia.’ My mouth dropped open. ‘Obviously I’m not romantically in love with you. But I realised that whatever these feelings are for you, I …’ She grinned wildly. ‘I feel like I am in love. Me and you – this is a fucking love story! I feel like I’ve found something most people just don’t get. I feel at home around you in a way I have never felt in my fucking life. And maybe most people would look at us and think that we’re just friends, or whatever, but I know that it’s just … so much MORE than that.’ She gestured dramatically at me with both hands. ‘You changed me. You … you fucking saved me, I swear to God. I know I still do a lot of dumb stuff and I say the wrong things and I still have days where I just feel like shit but … I’ve felt happier over the past few weeks than I have in years.’ I couldn’t speak. I was frozen. Rooney dropped to her knees. ‘Georgia, I am never going to stop being your friend. And I don’t mean that in the boring average meaning of ‘friend’ where we stop talking regularly when we’re twenty-five because we’ve both met nice young men and gone off to have babies, and only get to meet up twice a year. I mean I’m going to pester you to buy a house next door to me when we’re forty-five and have finally saved up enough for our deposits. I mean I’m going to be crashing round yours every night for dinner because you know I can’t fucking cook to save my life, and if I’ve got kids and a spouse, they’ll probably come round with me, because otherwise they’ll be living on chicken nuggets and chips. I mean I’m going to be the one bringing you soup when you text me that you’re sick and can’t get out of bed and ferrying you to the doctor’s even when you don’t want to go because you feel guilty about using the NHS when you just have a stomach bug. I mean we’re gonna knock down the fence between our gardens so we have one big garden, and we can both get a dog and take turns looking after it. I mean I’m going to be here, annoying you, until we’re old ladies, sitting in the same care home, talking about putting on a Shakespeare because we’re all old and bored as shit.’ She grabbed the bunch of flowers and practically threw them at me. ‘And I bought these for you because I honestly didn’t know how else to express any of that to you.’ I was crying. I just started crying again. Rooney wiped the tears off my cheeks.

In these uncertain, unsettling times, with unpopular policies being implemented by a patchwork coalition of the damned, Nick Clegg is proving to be perhaps the most useful tool in the government’s shed. Not because he says or does anything particularly inspiring, but because he functions as a universal disappointment sponge for disenchanted voters. You stare at Nick Clegg and feel infinitely unhappy, scarcely noticing Cameron and Co. hiding behind him. Governments around the world must be studying the coalition and working out how to get their own Clegg. He’s the coalition’s very own Pudsey Bear: a cuddly-but-tragic mascot representing the acceptable face of abuse. But unlike Pudsey, he actually speaks.

She had been dumped a couple of years before by a sort of male equivalent to Charlie, a guy called Michael who wanted to be something at the BBC. (He never made it, the wanker, and each day we never saw him on TV or heard him on the radio, something inside us rejoiced.)

Het is geen luipaard, het is een cheeta. Het is Charlie. Mijn cheeta... mijn huischeeta... Ik heb vreselijk gehuild toen hij wegging.' - Nick 'De echte cheeta is bij je weggegaan. Maar de geest, de daemon die hem naar je toe heeft gebracht, gaat nooit weg. De daemon is je beste vriend.' - Claire

Zach’s Fanfare #2” (MFSB)* “Comeback Kid” (Sleigh Bells) “Monkey Gone to Heaven” (The Pixies) “Spaceman” (Harry Nilsson) “Going Down” (Freddie King) “I’m Bad” (Rocket to Memphis) “Pumped Up Kicks” (Foster the People) “Nobody Does It Better” (Me First and the Gimme Gimmes) “Skull & Crossbones” (Sparkle Moore & Dan Belloc and His Orchestra) “Switchblade Smiles” (Kasabian) “I Wanna Destroy You” (The Soft Boys) “Drain You” (Foxy Shazam) “T.O.R.N.A.D.O.” (The Go! Team) “Woman of Mass Destruction” (The Woolly Bandits) “Tough Lover” (Nick Curran and the Lowlifes) “(I’m Stuck in a Pagoda With) Tricia Toyota” (The Dickies) “Apache” (The Sugarhill Gang) “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (Metallica) “We All Go Back to Where We Belong” (R.E.M.) “Change Reaction” (David Uosikkinen) “Satellite” (The Hooters) “Fanfare for Rocky” (Bill Conti)*

Oh God, who died?” Nick deadpanned. He was joking, but he wasn’t. “One day that’s not going to be funny,” Charlie warned.

Charlie on omandanud sellise tähtsuse, et mul on tunne, nagu peaks ta elama Marsil, nii et katsed temaga suhelda maksakasid miljoneid naelu ja jõuaksid temani alles valgusaastate pärast. Ta on maaväline olend, vaim, müüt, mitte inimene, kellel on automaatvastaja ja roostes wok-pann ja kahe metrootsooni kuukaart.

I’m sorry, but you didn’t make me promise not to worry.” With a big sigh, Jenna said, “Okay, but after this, you have to promise that, too.” “Deal,” Sara said, smirking. After seeing how much and how violently Jenna had been sick not all that many hours ago, Easy was sympathetic to Sara’s worrying.“I’ll clean up this stuff and give you all some privacy,” he said, reaching for the tray. “Thanks for getting dinner for us, Easy,” Jenna said. She looked at him with such gratitude and affection that it both set off a warm pressure in his chest and made him self-conscious—because he was acutely aware that Sara was observing them. She had to know that something was going on. Given how little he thought of himself sometimes, it wasn’t a big leap to imagine others would think the same. Just because Sara had seemed appreciative that he’d helped Jenna didn’t mean she’d approve of anything more. “You know, you set off a milk-shake-making party,” Becca said. Sara laughed. “Yeah. Shane made us shakes, then we took them over to the gym, and Nick was all jealous he didn’t have one.” Grinning, Becca rolled her eyes. “Which was hilarious because he didn’t even know they owned a blender.” Easy stood. “Well, I guess I’m glad I could provide such a valuable service.” He winked and looked at Jenna. “Need anything else while I’m downstairs?” Smiling, she shook her head. “Don’t think so, but thanks.” Easy made his way out of the room and back down to the Rixeys’, where he found all the guys in front of the big flat-screen TV—Nick and Marz kicking back in the recliners, Beckett and Shane sprawled on one couch, and Jeremy and Charlie on the other, with Eileen between them. It was dark in the room except for the flickering light of the screen. A round of greetings rose to meet him. “Sexual Chocolate!” Marz yelled over the others. Easy couldn’t help but smile as his gaze settled on the television, where the classic Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America was playing. One of Easy’s all-time favorites. He placed the tray on the counter, then turned and held his hands out. “Good morning, my neighbors!” he said, mimicking one of the prince’s lines. Right on cue, Marz said in a thick New York accent, “Hey, fuck you!” Easy could quote this movie all day. “Yes, yes! Fuck you, too!” The guys all chuckled, and Easy leaned his butt against the arm of the couch next to Jeremy and got sucked into the movie. Jeremy and Charlie made room for him, and it felt damn good to be with the guys. Not working, not stressed, not under fire. Just kicking back and shooting the shit.

Bingo 2022 Febrero- Marzo- Abril Ministerio de Magia: El principe de Kiera Cass. Historia corta que narra en antes y los primeros capitulos de la Seleccion desde el punto del principe Maxon. Gringgots: El vizconde que me amo. El primer Bridgerton busca esposa porque tiene que mantener un deber moral y buscar un heredero para mantener el legado Bridgerton. Aunque en el camino se termina enamorando. Hogsmeade: Heartstopper. Charlie y Nick son compañeros de clase y se hacen mas que amigos. Honeydukes: Morgan tiene sueños con una chica que se parece a la sirenita pero los sueños se hacen realidad... convirtiendose en algo más que una amistad. La madriguera: El duque y yo. Daphne Bridgerton busca esposo, ya que es la mayor (mujer) de 8 hermanos en la familia Bridgerton. El caldero chorreante: El hotel de los corazones rotos. Buffy, un actor retirado, se entera del fallecimiento de una antigua amiga y decide ir a remontar su hostel; siendo asi, que arranca un proyecto donde las personas toman cursos cuando se separan y son uno inutiles en la vida misma. Azkaban: La muerte visita al dentista. Nos envolvemos en otro caso del detective Poirot, esta vez involucrado su dentista de cabecera y una mujer misteriosa. La casa de los gritos: ¿Quién diablos eres? Alicia empieza a trabajar en una revista sobre sucesos paranormales y tiene una conexión de otro mundo con un fantasma llamado Duncan. Hogwarts: Caidos del mapa. Nos encontramos con cuatro amigos que estan en su último año de primaria y quieren ratearse al sótano del colegio, risas, amistad y amor es lo principal que conpone esta aventura

 Bingo Junio- Julio- Agosto  Vòmito (libro que te haya generado molestias): La mediadora, Lena Valenti. El libro esta muy bueno, la protagonista ve fantasmas y gente muerta pero las escenas de sexo me generaron mucha molestia, llego el punto que quise dejar de leer. Suciedad (un libro que exponga las miserias de la sociedad: El lazarillo de Tormes, Anonimo. Un clàsico de la literatura, Lazaro nos cuenta como paso tantas miserias siendo Lazarillo y como llego a donde esta ahora.  Cèsped (libro donde la ambientaciòn sea un espacio verde): El rey leon. Simba, hijo del rey, es exiliado cuando su Tìo toma el trono y se apodera de todo el reino.   Jabòn (un personaje que tenga una conducta perfecta): Heartstopper II, Alice Oseman. Nick Nelson es la mejor persona que podriamos tener en nuestras vidas, es el mejor amigo, mejor novio. Nunca quiere lastimar a nadie y menos a Charlie  Huevo podrido (un libro con Hype): La celestina, Fernando de Rojas. En su epoca, la Celestina fue el boom debido a que fue publicado cuando las imprentas surgieron y asi pudieron llegar a toda la poblaciòn.  Moco (Un libro con trama emotiva): El dìa que dejo de nevar en Alaska, Alice Kellen. Creo que fue uno de los libros màs tristes que leì en el año, los problemas de Heather y los de Nilak, me desarmaron por completo.  Cerilla (Un libro de (un/a autor/a que sea mayor de 60): El libro del buen amor, Arcipestre de Hita. El libro del buen amor es un clàsico de la literatura española y utiliza diferentes generos que nos llevan a leer un tipo de grotesco  Sandia (un libro donde la trama transcurra en verano): Sucedio un verano, Tessa Bailey. La trama de este libro es muy buena porque va màs allà de solo un romance de verano, sino de la superaciòn y encontrarse a uno mismo en el camino.  Limòn (Un libro con una portada amarilla): El conde lucanor, Juan Manuel. Este clasico de la literatura, esta dividido en cinco partes y vemos como el mismo autor se mete en la trama del libro para tomar las riendas de el.

Hay gente que nunca fue más allá de los sesenta, o que no fue más allá de la guerra, o no más allá de aquella noche en que el grupo en el que tocaban actuaron como teloneros de los Rolling Stones en el Marquee, y luego se han pasado el resto de la vida caminando para atrás; yo nunca llegué a ir más allá de Charlie. Fue con ella cuando me ocurrió lo más importante, las cosas que aún me definen.

He hates me." "That's untrue." "He's angry." "That's temporary." "I don't know what to say." "It doesn't matter what you say," she says. "You just have to say something.

Nowadays, we don’t have to be scared here. I hold his hand whenever I want.

And Nick Williams literally painted on Ericka Hall’s locker. Basically vandalism! I just feel like maybe these proposals are getting a little out of hand.” Why am I so worked up about messes in the hallway? “Plus, Perry Bell hijacked the morning announcements to profess his love to Alyssa Choi. Like, what next, right?

My desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, in chronological order: 1) Alison Ashworth 2) Penny Hardwick 3) Jackie Allen 4) Charlie Nicholson 5) Sarah Kendrew These were the ones that really hurt. Can you see your name in that lot, Laura? I reckon you'd sneak into the top ten, but there's no place for you in the top five; those places are reserved for the kind of humiliations and heartbreaks that you're just not capable of delivering. That probably sounds crueler than it is meant to, but the fact is that we're too old to make each other miserable, and that's a good thing, not a bad thing, so don't take your failure to make the list personally. Those days are gone, and good fucking riddance to them; unhappiness really meant something back then. Now it's just a drag, like a cold or having no money. If you really wanted to mess me up, you should have got to me earlier.

Nuggie! Down!’ Charlie shouted and Nugget just about confined his excitement to finger licking and running between legs.

Fred wasn't convinced, telling Charlie that such a service would never work and that other companies that had tried to make Twitter-like products had all failed.

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen,He likes rugby,and Formula 1,animals (especially dogs),the marvel universe,the sound felt-tips make on paper,rain,drawing on shoes,Disneyland and minimalism.He also likes me.

Now, why is American football a much bigger sport than American soccer when it comes to pro leagues, even though more kids actually play soccer? Let’s just say capitalism, and move on to the next question.

when I told people where I’d been, they exclaimed, “Oh, the accent in [that city]! I can’t understand a word they’re saying!” These cities were, at most, six hours apart.)

What we Americans call soccer got that name because it was called association football in the UK, as a way to delineate it from rugby football. Association = assoc = soc = soccer.

And somehow the fanny means one side of the body on one side of the Atlantic and another side of the body on the other side of the Atlantic, making the placement of a fanny pack a highly disputed notion. The Atlantic has a lot to answer for.

I assure you that British readers face the same challenges with a novel written in American. (What are crawdads, and why do they sing? What’s the difference between a highway, a freeway, and a turnpike—are they all the same thing? Do Americans really spend their time in fields of rye, catching small children?)

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula 1, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland and minimalism. He also likes me. His hair is dark blond and his eyes are brown and he is two inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion.

Waking up next to Charlie is definitely better than any other way of waking up. I don't really know why. My bed always feels sort of cold when he's not there.

We both know we're weird, we're not like other couples our age. It's weird that we hang out every single day, it's weird that we'd rather just be with each other all the time. Every day we wonder when we're going to stop feeling like this and get over our teenage relationship. But it never happens. We just keep on going.

Okay, fine, I love you more than my dog. I love you more than anyone actually.

A born-again woman. Willing to put aside my apathy for the sake of romance.

Charlie, he's my boyfriend. I still like girls, but I like guys, too, I think.

I think you need to talk to him.” “I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “Just something. Anything.” “He hates me.” “That’s untrue.” “He’s angry.” “That’s temporary.” “I don’t know what to say.” “It doesn’t matter what you say,” she says. “You just have to say something.