Moths," repeats Will. "You're afraid of moths?"
"Not just a cloud of moths," she says, "like...a swarm of them. Everywhere. All those wings and legs and..." She shudders and shakes her head.
"Terrifying," Will says with mock seriousness. "That's my girl. Tough as cotton balls."
"Oh, Shut up.
Veronica Roth (Divergent (Divergent, #1))
Peeta, you said at the interview you’d had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?
Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair...it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."
Your father? Why?"
He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'"
What? You’re making that up!"
No, true story. And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.
Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1))
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Are you lost, little girl? The elementary school's over on west campus."
A pink flush spread over her cheeks. "Don't you ever touch me again. You screw with me, I'll screw you right back."
Oh man, what an opening that was.
Richelle Mead (Vampire Academy (Vampire Academy, #1))
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.
Vladimir Nabokov (Lolita)
You. O Positive. How many exits?"
"What?...Oh shit, did you just call me by my bloodtype?
Rachel Caine (The Dead Girls' Dance (The Morganville Vampires, #2))
Oh- my twitchy witchy girl
I think you are so nice,
I give you bowls of porridge
And I give you bowls of ice
I give you lots of kisses,
And I give lots of hugs,
But I never give you sandwiches
Neil Gaiman (Coraline)
Oh, and Cammie," At the sounds of his voice, I spun around, expecting to hear him crack a joke or call me Gallagher Girl. The last thing I expected was to feel his arms sliding arounds me, to sense the whole world turning upside down as Zach dipped me in the middle of the foyer and pressed his lips to mine. Then he smiled that smile I'd come to know. "I always finish what I start.
Ally Carter (Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy (Gallagher Girls, #2))
Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8 color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64 color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64 color box, though I've got a few missing. It's okay though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8 color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation. So when I meet someone who's an 8 color type...I'm like, hey girl, Magenta! and she's like, oh, you mean purple! and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, no I want Magenta!
Do you have a Wish?' he asked, referring to this organization, The Genie Foundation, which is in the business of granting sick kids one wish.
'No' I said. 'I used my Wish pre-Miracle.'
'What'd you do?'
I sighed loudly. 'I was thirteen,' I said.
'Not Disney,' he said.
I said nothing.
'You did not go to Disney World.'
I said nothing.
'HAZEL GRACE!' he shouted. 'You did not use your one dying Wish to go to Disney World with your parents.'
'Also Epcot Center,' I mumbled.
'Oh, my God,' Augustus said. 'I can't believe I had a crush on a girl with such cliché wishes.
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boats nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “There’ll be days like this my momma said” when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.
I’m not an idiot, Kenji. I have reasons for the things I say.”
“Yeah, and maybe I’m just saying that you have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Don’t whatever me—”
“Whatever,” I say again.
“Oh my God,” Kenji says to no one in particular. “I think this girl wants to get her ass kicked.”
“You couldn’t kick my ass if I had ten of them.”
Kenji laughs out loud. “Is that a challenge?”
"It’s a warning,” I say to him.
“Ohhhhhh, so you’re threatening me now? Little crybaby knows how to make threats now?”
“Shut up, Kenji.”
“Shut up, Kenji,” he repeats in a whiny voice, mocking me.
Tahereh Mafi (Ignite Me (Shatter Me, #3))
Stop. That was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened."
"I could offer you more.”
"Power. Access. Rewards. You’d need be available only to me.”
"Are you asking me to be your mistress?”
"Oh, my God.”
"Is that a yes?”
"No, Ethan, Jesus. Definitely not.
Chloe Neill (Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires, #1))
For a moment I can't help thinking how decent he is - that there's some hope for him beyond the obnoxious image he displays. Maybe deep down he is a sensitive guy, who sees us as real people with real issues. I want to say something nice. Some kind of thanks. I stand there, rehearsing it in my mind.
"Oh my God," he says, "did you see that girl's tits?"
Maybe not today.
Melina Marchetta (Saving Francesca)
Oh," he said, knocking a red ball into a hole. "It's you."
"You were expecting someone else?" I asked. "Am I interrupting your social calender?" I made a big show of glancing around the empty room. "I don't want to keep you from the mob of fans beating down your door."
"Hey, a guy can hope. I mean, it's not impossible that a car full of scantily clad sorority girls might break down outside and need my help.
Richelle Mead (Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1))
Did you guys have sex?" Jacob grasped my shoulders, giving me a little shake. "Oh my God, girl, details - I need details. What is the size of his-?" "We didn't have sex." I smacked his hands away.
J. Lynn (Wait for You (Wait for You, #1))
Oh my God!" Julia yells. "Are you kidding me, Will? Don't help her put her clothes back on! I'm standing right here!"
What the hell am I thinking?
Colleen Hoover (This Girl (Slammed, #3))
This is sams phone" there was a long,heavy pause, and then: "oh." Another pause. "Youre the girl, arent you? The girl who was in my house?" I tried to think of what i might gain by denying it and drew a blank "yes"
do you have a name?"
he gave a short laugh that was completely without humor but not unpleasent. "I think i might like you. Im Beck.
Maggie Stiefvater (Shiver (The Wolves of Mercy Falls, #1))
Some mornings, she’d wake and vow, Today, I will get it right. I won’t be such an awful mess of a girl. I won’t lose my temper or make unkind remarks. I won’t go too far with a joke and feel the room go quiet with disapproval. I’ll be good and kind and sensible and patient. The sort everyone loves. But by evening, her good intentions would have unraveled. She’d say the wrong thing or talk a little too loudly. She’d take a dare she shouldn’t, just to be noticed. Perhaps Mabel was right, and she was selfish. But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all? “Oh, Evie, you’re too much,” people said, and it wasn’t complimentary. Yes, she was too much. She felt like too much inside all the time. So why wasn’t she ever enough?
Libba Bray (The Diviners (The Diviners, #1))
Oh, my god," Augustus said. "I can't believe I have a crush on a girl with such cliche wishes."
"I was thirteen," I said again, although of course I was only thinking "crush crush crush crush crush". I was flattered but changed the subject immediately.
John Green (The Fault in Our Stars)
Talk. I'll just wait' shall I? Because my mission to save this town is of no importance whatsoever next to your girl talk."- Myrnin
"Oh, shut up, you medieval drama queen" - Claire
Oh, but I like my geese. Like cats, they can't be told what to do, and like dogs, they're loyal, and like people, they talk every chance they get.
Shannon Hale (The Goose Girl (The Books of Bayern, #1))
I repeat his words in my head. What's going on? What's going on? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today from a girl who killed herself. Apparently, I had something to do with it. I'm not sure what that is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman to find out.
'Not much,' I say.
Jay Asher (Thirteen Reasons Why)
What's up?" Christian asked. "Need some hairstyling tips?"
"Tips you stole from me? No thanks. But I hear you've got a really good bacon meatloaf recipe."
It was worth it then and there to see his complete and total surprise.
"Since when do you cook?" he finally managed to stammer.
"Oh, you know. I'm a Renaissance man. I do it all. Send it if you've got it, and I'll give it a try. I'll let you know if I make any improvements."
His smirk returned. "Are you trying to impress a girl?"
"With cooking?" I pointed at my face. "This is all it takes, Ozera.
Richelle Mead (The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines, #4))
Get back in my cot, girl," said Gilsa. "You're sickly."
No, I'm not," said Ani.
Oh, no? Well, maybe stubbornness is a sickness, did you ever think of that?
Mary’s childhood was rough. She was frequently beaten and chastised by the nuns who served as her protectors and brutalized by the older girls in the orphanage.
Oh how I wept those first few years of my life. My tears came like tropical storms. Every pore in my body wept. I heaved and shuddered and sighed. Everything around me seemed dark and terrifying.
Maria Nhambu (Africa's Child (Dancing Soul Trilogy, #1))
Oh my. He's English.
"Er. Does Mer live here?"
Seriously, I dont know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
What’s that?” she asked the girl, wrinkling her nose.
“Oh, that? That’s just Pillover.”
“And what’s a pillover, when it’s at home?”
“My little brother.”
“Ah, I commiserate. I have several of my own. Dashed inconvenient, brothers.
Gail Carriger (Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1))
Oh. My. God. You're Rose Hathaway aren't you?"
"Yeah." I said with surprise. "Do you know me?"
"Everyone knows you. I mean, everyone heard about you. You're the one who ran away. And then you came back and killed the Strigoi. That is so cool! Did you get molnija marks?" Her words came out in one long string. She hardly took a breath.
"Yeah. I have two." Thinking about the tiny tattoos on the back of my neck made my skin itch.
Her pale green eyes—if possible—grew wider. "Oh my God. Wow." I usually grew irate when people made a big deal about molnija marks. After all, the circumstances had not been cool. But this girl was young, and there was something appealing about her.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Jillian—Jill. I mean, just Jill. Not both. Jillian's my full name. Jill's what everyone calls me."
"Right." I said, hiding a smile. "I figured it out."
"I heard Moroi used magic on that trip to fight. Is that true? I would love to do that. I wish someone would teach me. I use air. Do you think i could fight Strigoi with that? Everyone says I'm crazy!" For centuries, Moroi using magic to fight had been viewed as a sin. Everyone believed it should be used peacefully. Recently, some had started to question that, particularly after Christian had proved useful in the Spokane escape.
"I don't know." I said. "You should talk to Christian Ozera."
She gaped. "Would he talk to me?"
"If you bring up fighting the establishment, yeah he'll talk to you."
"Okay, cool. Was that Guardian Belikov?" she asked, switching subjects abruptly.
I swore I thought she might faint then and there. "Really? He's even cuter then I heard. He's your teacher right? Like, your own personal teacher?"
"Yeah." I wondered where he was. Talking to Jill was exhausting.
"Wow. You know you guys don't even act like teacher and student. You seem like friends. Do you hang out when you're not training?"
"Er, well, kind of. Sometimes." I remembered my earlier thoughts, about how I was one of the few people Dimitri was social with outside of his guardian duties.
"I knew it! I can't even imagine that—I'd be freaking out all the time around him. I'd never get anything done, but your so cool about it all, kind of like, 'Yeah. I'm with this totally hot guy, but whatever it doesn't matter!'"
I laughed in spite of myself. "I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve."
"No way. And I don't believe any of those stories, you know."
"Yeah about you beating up Christian Ozera."
"Thanks." I said.
Richelle Mead (Shadow Kiss (Vampire Academy, #3))
Here she is,” her mum said, cooing at the baby, “my special girl.”
“Oh, cheers,” Valkyrie said, rolling her eyes.
Derek Landy (Death Bringer (Skulduggery Pleasant, #6))
You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.
After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.
That’s what I believe.
The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. People get in wrecks and get crippled. People lose their way, for one reason or another. It’s not hard to do, in this world of crazy mazes. Life itself does its best to take that memory of magic away from us. You don’t know it’s happening until one day you feel you’ve lost something but you’re not sure what it is. It’s like smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” It just happens.
These memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I’m going to be when my journey winds down. I need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic again. I need to know and remember, and I want to tell you.
Robert R. McCammon (Boy's Life)
oh my god, she couldn't help thinking. I have hairy legs and I'm going to die alone.
Cecily von Ziegesar (Adored (It Girl, #8))
Ahem. Dear Jesus," Taylor intoned more fervently. "We just want to thank you for gettin' us here safe ---"
There was a loud, gurgling groan. Somebody shouted, "Oh my gosh! Miss Delaware just died!"
"--- for gettin some of us here safe," Taylor continued. "And we pray that, as we are fine, upstandin', law-abidin' girls who represent the best of the best, you will protect us from harm and keep us safe until we are rescued and can tell our story to People magazine. Amen."
- "Beauty Queens
Libba Bray (Beauty Queens)
Peeta,” I say lightly. “You said at the interview you’d had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?”
“Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair... it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up,” Peeta says.
“Your father? Why?” I ask.
“He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.
“What? You’re making that up!” I exclaim.
“No, true story,” Peeta says. “And I said, ‘A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?’ And he said, ‘Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.’”
“That’s true. They do. I mean, they did,” I say. I’m stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it’s a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father.
“So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent,” Peeta says.
“Oh, please,” I say, laughing.
“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew—just like your mother—I was a goner,” Peeta says. “Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.”
“Without success,” I add.
“Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,” says Peeta. For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta’s story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don’t remember the song. And that red plaid dress... there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father’s death.
It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true... could it all be true?
“You have a... remarkable memory,” I say haltingly. “I remember everything about you,” says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”
“I am now,” I say.
“Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can’t. It’s as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, “Say it! Say it!”
I swallow hard and get the words out. “You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in.
Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1))
Do you want your scarf back?' I asked.
'No, just the girl who goes with it.'
Oh my gosh, that guy knows his lines.
Robin Brande (Fat Cat)
Katniss: I’m coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.
Peeta: (Gives an unconvincing shake of head.)
Caesar: Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what’s her name?
Peeta: Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping.
Caesar: She have another fellow?
Peeta: I don’t know, but a lot of boys like her.
Caesar: So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down, eh?
Peeta: I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning… won’t help in my case.
Caesar: Why ever not?
Peeta: Because… because… she came here with me.
Caesar: Oh, that is a piece of bad luck.
Peeta: It’s not good.
Caesar: Well, I don’t think any of us can blame you. It’d be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn’t know?
Peeta: Not until now.
Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1))
...Oh god. I'm one of those girls."
"What girls?" he asked, perplexed.
"Those girls. The ones in all those books and TV shows. Some dumb high school girl falls in love with some supernatural guy, and he's all, 'Behold, I am five million years old!' and she's all, 'Oh my god, how can you ever love pathetic little me!' and he's like, 'Because of destiny!' or whatever. It's just so...ew. You know?
Lindsay Ribar (The Art of Wishing (The Art of Wishing, #1))
Oh yes. Draw your hem back from my mud, little sister.
Philippa Gregory (The Other Boleyn Girl (The Plantagenet and Tudor Novels, #9))
Sam talking to a frat boy -
"You. O Positive. How many exits?" "What?....Oh shit, did you just call me by my blood type?
Rachel Caine (The Dead Girls' Dance (The Morganville Vampires, #2))
Oh my. He's English.
"Er. Does Mer live here?"
Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big, curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf, like my Nana Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?"
"I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed."
"Yes! Meredith lives here. I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my little brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh, [Gosh]. What. Is with. The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating.
The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely - straight on top and crooked on the bottom, with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this, due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin.
"Étienne," he says. "I live one floor up."
"I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused.
He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna."
Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
Right,' I scoffed, 'Alpha Yam Ergo.'
Adrian nodded solemnly. 'A very old and prestigious society.'
'I've never heard of them,' said the girl who'd claimed the first shirt.
'They don't let many people in,' he said. In white paint, he wrote his fake fraternity's initials: AYE.
'Isn't that what pirates say?' asked one of the girls.
'Well, the Alpha Yams have nautical origins,' he explained. To my horror he began painting a pirate skeleton riding a motorcycle.
'Oh, no,' I groaned. 'Not the tattoo.'
'It's our logo,' he said.
Richelle Mead (The Indigo Spell (Bloodlines, #3))
Oh ... My twitchy witchy girl I think you are so nice, I give you bowls of porridge And I give you bowls of ice-cream.
Neil Gaiman (Coraline)
I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. But, and that is the greatest question, will I ever be able to write anything great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer? I hope so, oh, I hope so very much, for I can recapture everything when I write, my thoughts, my ideas and my fantasies.
Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)
Oh my God! I'm engaged! I'm marrying Cole!"
"What?!" Livia squeezed her sister hard. "Let me see. When did this happen? Did you tell Dad? When is it going to be? How did he propose?"
The men stopped their congratulatory handshake to stare at the speed-talking ladies.
"Last night, not yet, four weeks from today, naked!" Kyle blurted in response
The girls became a moving, jumping circle of hug.
"Cole, you popped the question in your birthday suit?" Blake teased.
Cole put his face in his hands. "Did not think she would share that bit of information.
Debra Anastasia (Poughkeepsie (Poughkeepsie Brotherhood, #1))
Moths? You're afraid of MOTHS?" Will asked incredulously.
"Yeah, so what? They're all papery and their wings are all gross! They're just..Uckkk!" Christina defended with a shudder.
"Terrifying," Will agreed with mock seriousness."That's my girl, tough as cotton balls!"
"Oh shut up!" Christina shrieked, slapping Will on the arm.
Veronica Roth (Divergent (Divergent, #1))
Emperor, right." she retacked the curtain "That's weird to say, after eighteen years of listening to celebrity gossip feeds go on and on about 'Earth's favorite prince'". She claimed one of the lumpy sofa cushions, curling her legs beneath her. "I had a picture of him taped to my wall when I was fifteen. Grand-mere cut it off a cereal box."
"Of course, half the girls in the world probably have had that same picture from that same cereal box."
Wolf scrunched his shoulders against his neck, and Scarlet grinned, teasing. "Oh, no. You're not going to have to fight him for pack dominance now are you? Come here."
She beckoned him with a wave of her hand and he was at her side in half a second, the glower softening as he pulled her against his chest.
Marissa Meyer (Winter (The Lunar Chronicles, #4))
Wait, what are you doing?” She could apparently hear the strain in my voice as I craned my neck from side to side. “I’m trying to see past a little girl on my hood."
“Oh. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Normally. But she has a knife.”
“Oh, well, then, I guess it’s okay.
Darynda Jones (Third Grave Dead Ahead (Charley Davidson, #3))
You can't wish for more wishes or for vague generalities like happiness that are impossible to grant. Your wish has to be something specific enough that I can use my wand to make it happen. Oh, and recently there's been a ban on inserting yourself into the Twilight series. The Cullens are tired of different teenage girls pinging into their story every time they turn around.
Janette Rallison (My Unfair Godmother (My Fair Godmother, #2))
As I nodded and smiled and umm-hmm'd and oh, my'd my way down the drive, I wondered if boys had any sort of magazine that told them how to attract women and, if so, did it ever tell them to put the girls' interests first?
Jennifer Donnelly (A Northern Light)
Why don't you like girls?"
Nicky looked startled by the interruption, but he rallied quickly and made a face. "They're so soft."
Neil thought about Renee's bruised knuckles, Dan's fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth's death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father's violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, "Some of the strongest people I've known are women."
"What? Oh, no," Nicky hurried to say. "I mean literally soft. Too many curves, see? I feel like my hands would slide right off. It's totally not my thing. I like…" He drew a box with his fingers as he searched for words. "Erik. Erik's perfect. He's a total outdoors junkie, rock climbing and hiking and mountain biking, all that awful bug-infested fresh-air stuff. But oh my god, you should see what it does to his body. He's like this, all hard edges." He drew another box. "He's stronger than I am, and I like that. I feel like I could lean on him all day and he wouldn't break a sweat.
Nora Sakavic (The Raven King (All for the Game, #2))
Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year old schoolgirl. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing, and I have an even greater need to get all kinds of things off my chest.
Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)
There is always the risk: something is good and good and good and good, and then all at once it gets awkward. All at once, she sees you looking at her, and then she doesn't want to joke around with you anymore, because she doesn't want to seem flirty, because she doesn't want you to think she likes you. It’s such a disaster, whenever, in the course of human relationships, someone begins to chisel away at the wall of separation between friendship and kissing. Breaking down that wall is the kind of story that might have a happy middle— oh, look, we broke down this wall, I’m going to look at you like a girl and you’re going to look at me like a boy and we’re going to play a fun game called Can I Put My Hand There What About There What About There. And sometimes that happy middle looks so great that you can convince yourself that it’s not the middle but will last forever.
John Green (Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances)
Inside me is the same desperate hope I have watching the ravenous dead and thinking, Oh please, oh please, oh please.
The craving inside of me is to be clutched at by some dead girl. To put my ear to her chest and hear nothing. Even getting munched on by zombies beats the idea that I'm only flesh and blood, skin and bone. Demon or angel or evil spirit, I just need something to show itself. Ghoulie or ghosty or long-legged beastie, I just want my hand held.
Chuck Palahniuk (Survivor)
Liam cleared his throat again and turned to fully face me. “So, it’s the summer and you’re in Salem, suffering through another boring, hot July, and working part-time at an ice cream parlor. Naturally, you’re completely oblivious to the fact that all of the boys from your high school who visit daily are more interested in you than the thirty-one flavors. You’re focused on school and all your dozens of clubs, because you want to go to a good college and save the world. And just when you think you’re going to die if you have to take another practice SAT, your dad asks if you want to go visit your grandmother in Virginia Beach.”
“Yeah?” I leaned my forehead against his chest. “What about you?”
“Me?” Liam said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m in Wilmington, suffering through another boring, hot summer, working one last time in Harry’s repair shop before going off to some fancy university—where, I might add, my roommate will be a stuck-up-know-it-all-with-a-heart-of-gold named Charles Carrington Meriwether IV—but he’s not part of this story, not yet.” His fingers curled around my hip, and I could feel him trembling, even as his voice was steady. “To celebrate, Mom decides to take us up to Virginia Beach for a week. We’re only there for a day when I start catching glimpses of this girl with dark hair walking around town, her nose stuck in a book, earbuds in and blasting music. But no matter how hard I try, I never get to talk to her.
“Then, as our friend Fate would have it, on our very last day at the beach I spot her. You. I’m in the middle of playing a volleyball game with Harry, but it feels like everyone else disappears. You’re walking toward me, big sunglasses on, wearing this light green dress, and I somehow know that it matches your eyes. And then, because, let’s face it, I’m basically an Olympic god when it comes to sports, I manage to volley the ball right into your face.”
“Ouch,” I said with a light laugh. “Sounds painful.”
“Well, you can probably guess how I’d react to that situation. I offer to carry you to the lifeguard station, but you look like you want to murder me at just the suggestion. Eventually, thanks to my sparkling charm and wit—and because I’m so pathetic you take pity on me—you let me buy you ice cream. And then you start telling me how you work in an ice cream shop in Salem, and how frustrated you feel that you still have two years before college. And somehow, somehow, I get your e-mail or screen name or maybe, if I’m really lucky, your phone number. Then we talk. I go to college and you go back to Salem, but we talk all the time, about everything, and sometimes we do that stupid thing where we run out of things to say and just stop talking and listen to one another breathing until one of us falls asleep—”
“—and Chubs makes fun of you for it,” I added.
“Oh, ruthlessly,” he agreed. “And your dad hates me because he thinks I’m corrupting his beautiful, sweet daughter, but still lets me visit from time to time. That’s when you tell me about tutoring a girl named Suzume, who lives a few cities away—”
“—but who’s the coolest little girl on the planet,” I manage to squeeze out.
Alexandra Bracken (The Darkest Minds (The Darkest Minds, #1))
Breaking down that wall is the kind of story that might have a happy middle - oh, look, we broke down this wall, I'm going to look at you like a girl and you're going to look at me like a boy, and we're going to play a fun game called Can I Put My Hand There What About There What About There.
John Green (Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances)
Oh." He sat in confused silence for a few seconds. "Can I ask you a very serious question?"
"I rather you didn't," I said.
He stared straight into my eyes. "If you were an animal, what animal would you be?"
WAIT, WHAT? "Wait, what?"
"It's a classic icebreaker."
"If I were an ANIMAL...?"
He faked a sigh and checked an imaginary watch. "Your inability to answer the question doesn't bode well for-"
"I refuse to answer that," I said. "On the grounds that it's probably the stupidest thing I've ever been asked."
He stared at me, frowning. "I hear your subconscious saying MONKEY.
Katie Alender (Bad Girls Don't Die (Bad Girls Don't Die, #1))
As he ran next to Noriko, a thought suddenly occurred to him. The screaming, their hasty footsteps, and the officer warning them to stop all receded as his mind was occupied with this thought.
It might have been inappropriate. And besides… he'd ripped it off. Oh, man.
But still he thought this:
Together Noriko we'll live with the sadness. I'll love you with all the madness in my soul. Someday girl I don't know when we're gonna get to that place. Where we really want to go and we'll walk in the sun. But till then tramps like us baby we were born to run.
Koushun Takami (Battle Royale)
Galen Werner, you may choose one of my daughters to be your bride, and when I die, you shall sit beside her as co-ruler of Westfallin."
"Your Majesty.... I - I don't know - "
Rose felt her knees shaking. Did he not love her after all?
"Psst, Galen?" Pansy tugged on his arm. Galen leaned down. "If Rose doesn't want you," the little girl whispered loudly, "you can marry me."
Galen laughed shakily. "Thanks, Pansy."
"Oh, Rose! Don't just stand there like a lump," Poppy said, poking her in the back. "If he's too embarrased, you should be the one to say something."
"Poppy!" Daisy looked scandalized. "It's not Rose's place to - "
Under cover of their squabbling, Rose took Galen's hand and moved closer to him. "Do you want to marry me?" she whispered in a much quieter tone than Pansy had used.
"Yes," he said.
"If neither of you is going to speak up," King Gregor said, "I shall simply have to decide it for myself!"
"Father," Rose protested, "that won't be necessary!"
"I choose Rose," Galen blurted out at the same time.
"There. Done. Easy." King Gregor clapped his hands.
Jessica Day George (Princess of the Midnight Ball (The Princesses of Westfalin Trilogy, #1))
Oh my gosh, don’t you both look pretty!” We looked like rejects from the auditions for The Sound of Music.
“I will have to buy them – they are meant to be yours!” Karla waved her credit card around like a wand.
“What a shame they didn’t have one in green for me. But then, it is a young girl’s style. I would’ve looked foolish.
Joss Stirling (Stealing Phoenix (Benedicts, #2))
Filming wraps up next week, then I’m officially retiring my fangs.”
“Girls’ hearts will be shattered.”
He tipped up my chin, and his steady gaze locked on mine.
“I’m only worried about one girl’s heart.” Oh. My
Jenny B. Jones (There You'll Find Me)
I'll be there at ten."
"Oh," I said suprised. "For some reason I thought that this was a day thing."
"Halarious. Ten in the morning, darling."
"Can't a girl sleep in on the weekend!"
"You don't sleep. See you Sunday, and don't wear stupid shoes." Noah said, and hung up before I could reply. I stood, staring at the phone. He was so aggravating. But a nervous thrill traveled through my stomach. Me and Noah. Sunday. Just us.
I woke up faster this time, because I knew what I was hearing I sat up in bed, glaring behind me. The bed was still pulled safely away from the wall, so I felt no movement. But there sure as hell something moving over there.
Then I heard ……hissing?
I looked down at Clive, whose tail was at full puff. He arched his back and paced back and forth at the foot of the bed.
“Hey, mister. It’s cool. We just got a noisy neighbor, that’s all,” I soothed, stretching my hand out to him. That’s when I heard it. “Meow”
I cocked my head sideways, listening more intently. I studied Clive, who looked back at me as if to say “T’weren’t me”.
“Meow! Oh, God. Me -Yow!”
The girl next door was meowing. What in the world was my neighbor packing to make that happen?
Clive, at this point, went utterly bonkers and launched himself at the wall. He was literally climbing it, trying to get where the noise was coming from, and adding his own meows to the chorus.
“Oooh yes, just like that, Simon…Mmmm….Meow, meow, Meow!”
Sweet Lord, there were out-of-control pussies on both sides of this wall tonight.
Alice Clayton (Wallbanger (Cocktail, #1))
Damn, girl. You are a kinky fuck."
I glanced down. The sheet was spattered with blood, my skin covered with dried red lines. Awkward. "Oh. I tripped and fell."
"On his fangs? Over and over?
Jill Myles (Succubi Are Forever (Succubus Diaries, #4))
My courage is faith--faith in the eternal resilience of me--that joy'll come back, and hope and spontaneity. And I feel that till it does I've got to keep my lips shut and my chin high and my eyes wide--not necessarily any silly smiling. Oh, I've been through hell without a whine quite often--and the female hell is deadlier than the male.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (Gatsby Girls)
I knew someday you would realize your worth. Your worthiness.'
I shake my head. 'Oh Ximena, he was right to choose me but not becuase of my worth...You, Cosme, Hector...were already willing to be heroes. But I would have done nothing, become nothing, were it not for this thing inside me. So you see, God picked me becuase I was unworthy.
Rae Carson (The Girl of Fire and Thorns (Fire and Thorns, #1))
Let me walk you to your room," Logan offered in a helpful voice. "You, me, and the Gypsy girl could have our own bonfire tonight."
Daphne and I stared at each other. I rolled my eyes while Daphne sniffed.
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Like I need a guy to protect me. I'm a Valkyrie, remember? I could pick you up and break your back over my knee, Spartan. Like you were a piñata."
"Kinky," Logan said, smiling at her. "I like it."
She snorted. "Save the smarmy charm for Gwen. We all know that she's the one you're really trying to impress anyway."
We did? Because I hadn't gotten that message at all.
Jennifer Estep (Touch of Frost (Mythos Academy, #1))
I didn’t say, You are such a stuffy asshole. And he didn’t say, If you ever burn one of my quarter-of-a-million dollar rugs again I’ll take it out of your hide, and I didn’t say, Oh, honey, wouldn’t you like to? And he didn’t say Grow up, Ms. Lane, I don’t take little girls to my bed, and I didn’t say I wouldn’t go there if it was the only safe place from the Lord Master in all of Dublin.
Karen Marie Moning (Bloodfever (Fever, #2))
Kill her for me," she said in that whiny little-girl voice.
Diego took a step toward me, wearing an expression that told me he was only too happy to oblige his lady love.
"Oh, what?" I said. I wasn't even scared. I didn't care anymore. The numbness in my heart had pretty much taken over my whole body. "You always do what she tells you? You know, we have a word for that now. It's called being whipped.
Meg Cabot (Darkest Hour (The Mediator, #4))
We walk for about an hour before Raffe whispers, “Does moping actually help humans feel better?”
“I’m not moping,” I whisper back.
“Of course you’re not. A girl like you, spending time with a warrior demigod like me. What’s to mope about? Leaving a wheelchair behind couldn’t possibly show up on the radar compared to that.”
I nearly stumble over a fallen branch. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid about my warrior demigod status.”
“Oh. My. God.” I lower my voice, having forgotten to whisper. “You are nothing but a bird with an attitude. Okay, so you have a few muscles, I’ll grant you that. But you know, a bird is nothing but a barely evolved lizard. That’s what you are.”
He chuckles. “Evolution.” He leans over as if telling me a secret. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been this perfect since the beginning of time.” He is so close that his breath caresses my ear.
“Oh, please. Your giant head is getting too big for this forest. Pretty soon, you’re going to get stuck trying to walk between two trees. And then, I’ll have to rescue you.” I give him a weary look. “Again.”
I pick up my pace, trying to discourage the smart comeback that I’m sure will come.
But it doesn’t. Could he be letting me have the last say?
When I look back, Raffe has a smug grin on his face. That’s when I realize I’ve been manipulated into feeling better. I stubbornly try to resist but it’s already too late.
Susan Ee (Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days, #1))
Oh, wait, okay, you need my help. What do you need? Do you need practice kissing girls? That’s totally fine. I can do that. Come here, I’ll kiss you right now.”
The creak of the door made Kami look away from Holly and Holly look up from the book.
Ash looked as if he seriously wondered why it was always him.
Sarah Rees Brennan (Unmade (The Lynburn Legacy, #3))
If I were just a boy, and you were just a girl, I wouldn't kiss you once like you asked." He paused and my heart dropped. Oh. "Eden, I'd kiss you long, and I'd kiss you often.
Mia Sheridan (Becoming Calder)
Good dog," Nick said. "That's one of the tricks I've taught him, shaking water on girls so they back into my arms."
"Really! How smart of Rocky - and you, of course."
"That's another thing I've been wanting to tell you," he said, turning me to face him. "I'm tired of getting jealous of my dog. I mean, he has nice eyes, but so do I."
I looked from Rocky's golden eyes to Nick's laughing green ones.
"I didn't enjoy the way Rocky got to stick close to you while I played Holly's boyfriend. He's going to have some competition from now on."
"Oh, yeah? Are you good at retrieving sticks?"
"I'm good at stealing kisses," Nick said, then proved it.
Elizabeth Chandler (Dark Secrets 1 (Dark Secrets, #1-2))
Beside me, Richie chimed in. "What the... Max. there's a girl on your face."
Sara pulled back and her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, crap."
"Calm down," I told her quietly. "No one here gives a fuck who we are. They hardly remember my name every week."
"Patently untrue," Richie said. "Your name is Twat."
I tilted my head to him, smiling at Sara. "Like I said.
Christina Lauren (Beautiful Stranger (Beautiful Bastard, #2))
Ayden and Blake stared each other down.
"Oh. My. God," Luna blurted from Ayden's back seat. "It's a love triangle."
We all looked at her like she'd sprouted an alien from her head. "it's just like in a book. Two guys after one girl and-"
I groaned. "That's ridiculous, Luna, this is not a love triangle."
"Says the girl in the middle of a love triangle. Luna ignored my protests and prattled on. "Not one Hexy Boy but two. I've got to call Danica. Oooo," she squealed and clapped her hands,"We could have teams. Team Ayden and Team Blake. With T-shirt and buttons and-"
"I could make a website," Lucian offered.
"No!" My voice pitched with panic. "No teams. No shirts. No-"
"I'll get you some headshots," Blake said, turning his profile towards Luna and Lucian. "I've been told the left is my best side. What do you think?"
"Aurora's right," Ayden said. "This is buts. Blake you can follow us-"
"Dude, you know no one would pick Team Ayden. You're just jealous."
"That's not true. My team would be way bigger than yours."
"Dare to dream, little man, dare to dream."
"Care to make a wager on it?"
"Fine. How about-"
"You two shut up!" I shoved myself out of the car.
A. Kirk (Demons at Deadnight (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #1))
Oh, September. My best girl. I shall tell you an awful, wonderful, unhappy, joyful secret: It is like that for everyone. One day you wake up and you are grown. And on the inside, you are no older than the last time you thought Wouldn't it be lovely to be all Grown-Up right this second?
Catherynne M. Valente (The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland, #4))
Let me get straight on this. You don’t want to be the girl to wear out your welcome, but you’ll be the girl who lets him wear out your vagina?”
She slaps my arm in the dark. “That’s just crude, Laurie.” She giggles. “But oh so true. He did wear it out like a champ.
Georgia Cates (Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1))
Oh you cut your hair! What happened? Are you going through a breakup or something?"
"My favorite character died.
You okay with all of this?" I whispered to Daemon.
He shrugged. "Not like I can stop her."
I knew he could if he wanted, which meant he didn't have a problem with it.
"Cookie?" he offered, holding a cookie full of chocolate chips.
Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. "Sure."
His lips tipped up one side and he leaned toward me, his mouth inches from mine. "Come and get it."
Come and get...? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.
Oh, holy alien babies everywhere...
My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn't bring myself to check out what they really were doing.
That cookie—those lips—were right there.
Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone on else, and Daemon... dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me.
Dee gagged. "I think I'm going to hurl."
Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take the cookie from his mouth like something straight out of an R rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to and I wasn't sure what that said about me.
Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam to his eyes, as if he just won some battle. "Times up, Kitten."
I stared at him.
Breaking the cookie into two, he handed me the larger piece. I snatched it away, half tempted to throw it back in his face, but it was... it was chocolate chip. So I ate it and loved it.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Onyx (Lux, #2))
He's gawking at me when I open the door.
"Damn girl," he says, looking me over, "what the hell are you trying to do to me?"
I look down at myself, still trying to wake up the rest of the way and realize I'm in those tiny cotton white shorts and varsity tee with no bra on underneath. Oh my God, my nipples are like beacons shining through my shirt! I cross my arms over my chest and try not to look at him i the eyes when he helps himself the rest of the way inside.
"I was going to tell you to get dressed," he goes on, grinning as he walks into the room carrying his bags and the guitar, "but really, you can go just like that if you want."
I shake my head, hiding the smile creeping up on my face.
J.A. Redmerski (The Edge of Never (The Edge of Never, #1))
And then you run into Nick Dunne on the Seventh Avenue as you're buying diced cantaloupe, and pow, you are known, you are recognized, the both of you. You both find the exact same things worth remembering (Just one olive, though.) You have the same rhythm. Click. You just know each other. All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing and his mouth on yours. And it's so far beyond fine that you know you can never go back to fine. That fast. You think: Oh, here is the rest of my life. It's finally arrived.
Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl)
She crouched with her hand out. What the hell was she doing… "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." Oh my God, she was retarded and I was going to kill Jim. She blinked and stared at me. She'd seen my eyes glow. I let go, shifting in the dark into my true form in the dark. If you want a Kitty, little girl, I'll give you one you'll never forget. I stepped into the moonlight. She froze. That's right. No sudden moves. I padded toward her slowly and circled her allowing her take it all in. Do you like the kitty now? I could smell her surprise and fear. Our gazes met. Her eyes went wide and then she fell on her ass. Heh. A bow would have been sufficient.
Ilona Andrews (Curran (Curran POV #1-2))
You don’t understand.She was mean to me. Very mean. And she’s dangerous. A very dangerous girl. I’m your guardian, Ayden. I have to protect you!It’s my sworn duty. My sworn duty!”
“Yes!” Pearl hovered frantically in front of “her boy,” and slathered her voice with disgust. “She threatened to…”
Oh, she wouldn’t.
She would. My cheeks fired. I stared at the floor.
Ayden laughed. “Kiss me?”
“Yeeeeesss,” Pearl wailed in agony. “She promised a big juicy kiss! On a real date. No pretending. With hand holding and—and cuddling!”
And I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
A. Kirk (Demons at Deadnight (Divinicus Nex Chronicles, #1))
--You're rather well read for a working-class girl, she said with her back to me.
--Really? I've found that all my well-read friends are from the working class.
--Oh my. Why do you think that is? The purity of poverty?
--No. It's just that reading is the cheapest form of entertainment.
--Sex is the cheapest form of entertainment.
--Not in this house.
Amor Towles (Rules of Civility)
That cat doesn't have a lick of sense,' I said, sighing.
Well, honey, he's not right in the head,' Dad said, flipping his cigarette into the front yard.
I glared at him. 'And just what do you mean by that?'
Dad counted on his fingers. 'He's cross-eyed; he jumps out of trees after birds and then doesn't land on his feet; he sleeps with his head smashed up against the wall, and the tip of his tail is crooked.'
Oh yeah? Well, how about this: he once got locked in a basement by evil Petey Scroggs in the middle of January and survived on snow and little frozen mice. When I'm cold at night he sleeps right on my face. Of that whole litter of kittens he came out of he's the only one left. One of his brothers didn't even have a butthole.'
I stand corrected. PeeDink is a survivor.
Haven Kimmel (Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland, Indiana)
What about you, little girl? You going to be a Shadowhunter like your dad?"
Clary tried to hide her annoyance. "No," she said. "I'm going to be a Shadowhunter, but I'm not going to be like my father. And my name's Clarissa, but you can call me Clary."
The elevator came to a stop; the doors slid open. The warlock woman's blue eyes rested on Clary for a moment. "Oh, I know your name," she said. "Clarissa Morgenstern. Little girl who stopped a big war.
Cassandra Clare (City of Fallen Angels (The Mortal Instruments, #4))
When you first looked at me
I forgot to breathe
that moment marked my hardened heart
I vowed to never leave
And the touch of your skin
healed something deep within
that left me wanting more of you
the less I got the more it grew
Oh I couldn't help from falling, falling for you
So I'm standing here, oh girl you know
After all that we've been through we couldn't let it go
and as long as I'm alive, in your eyes I'll stare
holding you so close I'll solemnly swear
that I have fallen too far
that I have fallen too far, too far for you.
When I finally found you
I finally found me
that day I won't soon forget
the reason for it all
I'll give you a new name
nothing in life will be the same
the story is now complete
our life and love is all we need
'Cause I couldn't help from falling
falling for you
So I'm standing here oh girl you know
After all we've been through we couldn't let it go
and as long as I'm alive, in your eyes I'll stare
holding you so close I'll solemnly swear
that I have fallen too far, that I have fallen too far
too far for you
My heart is beating
begging for you
this night will be
a dream come true
so fall, fall, fall into my arms
So I'm standing here oh girl you know
After all that we've been through we couldn't let it go
That I have fallen too far
That I have fallen too far
That I have fallen too far
too far for you, yeah
Abbi Glines (Forever Too Far (Rosemary Beach, #3; Too Far, #3))
You both find the exact same things worth remembering. You have the same rhythm. Click. You just know each other. All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing & it’s so far beyond fine that you know you can never go back. That fast. You think: Oh, here is the rest of my life. It’s finally arrived.
Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl)
What happened when you were twelve?” “Oh, Mom offered to take us all out for dinner—us girls, Dad was out of town—to celebrate, but I didn’t want to. This book I’d been waiting for had just come out, and the only thing I wanted to do was read it all night.” “My God,” I said, touching the top of her nose. “You’re adorable.
Richelle Mead (The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines, #4))
So what’s your story, Pidge? Are you a man-hater in general, or do you just hate me?”
“I think it’s just you,” I grumbled.
He laughed once, amused at my mood. “I can’t figure you out. You’re the first girl that’s ever been disgusted with me before sex. You don’t get all flustered when you talk to me, and you don’t try to get my attention.”
“It’s not a ploy. I just don’t like you.”
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like me.”
My frown involuntarily smoothed and I sighed. “I didn’t say you’re a bad person. I just don’t like being a foregone conclusion for the sole reason of having a vagina.” I focused on the grains of salt on the table until I heard a choking noise from Travis’ direction.
His eyes widened and he quivered with howling laughter. “Oh my God! You’re killing me! That’s it. We have to be friends. I won’t take no for an answer.
Jamie McGuire (Beautiful Disaster (Beautiful, #1))
Oh, my God, you smiled! Mr. American Frown actually smiled!"
"Must have been a mistake. I'll speak to someone about it. Won't happen again."
"Well, good. Because you could do your face and injury, just smiling like that.
Sophie Kinsella (Twenties Girl)
Oh, I’m burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free . . . and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open!
Emily Brontë (Wuthering Heights)
I can't swallow another drop of soda by this point because the carbonation is burning my throat.
"Oh really? Well..." I trail off as I feel bubbling at the base of my throat. This is not good.
Before I can stop myself, I let out the biggest burp I've ever, ever, ever had. I slap a hand over my mouth and stare at Logan whose eyebrows have reached astronomical heights.
"Dude! So not smooth, man! Girls cannot stand rudeness," Dan yells from the back room.
Leah Rae Miller (The Summer I Became a Nerd (Nerd, #1))
Mama Ginger came calling, to set the alarm on my biological clock. Oh, and to remind me that there’s no point to me being a woman if I never have children.”
“Well, if that’s true, I wasted a hell of a lot of money on panty hose and lipstick.” Jettie snorted.
Molly Harper (Nice Girls Don't Date Dead Men (Jane Jameson, #2))
I looked where he was tapping.
"Local Girl Missing, Feared Dead"
Beneath it was a photo or me-my most recent school photo. "Oh no." My heart filling with dread, i took the paper from Mr. Smith's hands. "Couldn't they have found a better picture?
Meg Cabot (Underworld (Abandon, #2))
And as for you Agent Pallas – man-to-man, if you ever insult my girl on national television again, I’ll…” he stopped.
Everyone in the room waited, hanging. Jack raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Collin turned to Cameron with a look of astonishment. “I’ve got nothing. I had this whole exit speech going and I was gonna end with some big macho threat but when I got there, it was like – bleh – nothing. That’s a pisser.” He appeared disgusted with himself, then shrugged it off. “Oh well. Catch you guys later.”
He strode out without a second glance.
Julie James (Something About You (FBI/US Attorney, #1))
Am I really so bad-mannered, conceited, headstrong, pushing, stupid, lazy, etc., etc., as they all say? Oh, of course not. I have my faults, just like everyone else, I kniw that, but they thoroughly exaggerate everything.
Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)
I'll see you there little Red.' Fane’s voice faded out of her mind and she could feel his humor. Oh, wasn't he just too cute, picking up on her two best friends' idea of a sick joke - to turn her into the little girl who almost wound up as the wolf's dinner.
"My, what big eyes you have, wolf-man," Jacque said out loud, unable to stop her sarcasm from boiling up.
“The better to see you with love,” Jen chimed in.
“What big ears you have!” Sally continued their comic relief.
“The better to hear you with my love,” Jen followed.
“What big teeth you have!” Sally mocked, her hands on either side of her face.
“The better to eat you with my love,” Jen cackled, but she wasn’t finished. True to Jen form she added her own twisted sense of humour. “My, what a big-“
Sally slapped a hand over her mouth, quickly realising where Jen was going with that statement.
Quinn Loftis (Blood Rites (The Grey Wolves, #2))
I shut up everything inside. Everything." Words ground out through clenched teeth. "I thought if I could hold it, just hold it, it would be fine. But it's not."
"Why?" she asked. "Why are you losing control so badly?"
The answer, when it came, broke Sascha's heart.
"Hawke." It was an almost soundless whisper.
"Oh, Sienna." She stroked her hand over the girl's hair, even as her mind worked at piercing speed. "Has it been cumulative?"
Sienna nodded. "The second I met him, everything crumbled, my shields, my conditioning, everything!
Nalini Singh (Branded by Fire (Psy-Changeling, #6))
We gather here today,” said Robert, reaching out his arms expansively, “to honor my son, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, who has single-handedly destroyed the forces of the Endarkened and who defeated in battle the son of Valentine Morgenstern. Alec saved the life of our third son, Max. Along with his parabatai, Jace Herondale, I am proud to say that my son is one of the greatest warriors I have ever known.” He turned and smiled at Alec and Magnus. “It takes more than a strong arm to make a great warrior,” he went on. “It takes a great mind and a great heart. My son has both. He is strong in courage, and strong in love. Which is why I also wanted to share our other good news with you. As of yesterday, my son became engaged to be married to his partner, Magnus Bane—”
A chorus of cheers broke out. Magnus accepted them with a modest wave of his fork. Alec slid down in his chair, his cheeks burning. Jace looked at him meditatively.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I kind of feel like I missed an opportunity.”
“W-what?” Alec stammered.
Jace shrugged. “I always knew you had a crush on me, and I kind of had a crush on you, too. I thought you should know.”
“What?” Alec said again.
Clary sat up straight. “You know,” she said, “do you think there’s any chance that you two could ...” She gestured between Jace and Alec. “It would be kind of hot.”
“No,” Magnus said. “I am a very jealous warlock.”
“We’re parabatai,” Alec said, regaining his voice. “The Clave would—I mean—it’s illegal.”
“Oh, come on,” said Jace. “The Clave would let you do anything you wanted. Look, everyone loves you.” He gestured out at the room full of Shadowhunters. They were all cheering as Robert spoke, some of them wiping away tears. A girl at one of the smaller tables held up a sign that said, ALEC LIGHTWOOD, WE LOVE YOU.
Cassandra Clare (City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments, #6))
It’s Okay, Mom.” The little girl grinned impishly. “Max will be pretty with pink nails.”
“Oh I brought my A-game,” the vampire snorted as he sat on the other couch.
“Bout Time,” Janie retorted
Rebecca Zanetti (Fated (Dark Protectors, #1))
The Queen‘s smile was wide and terrible. “What if I told you she could be freed by a kiss?”
“You want Jace to kiss you?” Clary said, bewildered.
“Despite his charms,” the Queen said, “that kiss will not free the girl.”
The four looked at each other, startled. “I could kiss Meliron, ” suggested Isabelle.
“Nor that. Nor any one of my court.”
Meliron moved away from Isabelle, who looked at her companions and threw up her hands. “I‘m not kissing any of you,” she said firmly. “Just so its official.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the Angel‘s sake. Look, if there’s no other way of getting out of this, I‘ll kiss Simon. I‘ve done it before, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Thanks,” said Simon. “That’s very flattering.”
“Alas,” said the Queen of the Seelie Court…“I‘m afraid that wont do either.”
“Well, I‘m not kissing the mundane,” said Jace. “I‘d rather stay down here and rot.”
“Forever?” said Simon. “Forever‘s an awfully long time.”
Jace raised his eyebrows. “I knew it,” he said. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
Simon threw up his hands in exasperation. “Of course not. But if-”
“I guess its true what they say,” observed Jace. “There are no straight men in the trenches.”
“That’s atheists, jackass,” said Simon furiously. “There are no atheists in the trenches.
Cassandra Clare (City of Ashes (The Mortal Instruments, #2))
Once at a record store in San Francisco, over a thousand kids showed up. They pushed forward and broke a window. A big piece of glass fell on top of this girl. And the girl's throat was slit. She just got slit. And I remember there was blood everywhere. Oh God, so much blood. And she grabbed her throat and was bleeding and everyone just ignored her. Why? Because I was there and they wanted to grab at me and get my autograph. I wonder whatever happened to that girl.
I nodded toward Cade’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fun. I get a man bracelet.”
I smiled. “I don’t think you get to keep it. She’s just using you as her model.”
“It’s a fact, not a compliment.”
“Because if you gave me a compliment you might have a stroke.”
I laughed. “Probably not a stroke, but my brain would definitely revolt in some way.”
He didn’t laugh along with me, just looked at the cording on his wrist.
“Oh, stop, you don’t need me to tell you that you’re hot to know that it’s true.”
“Are you okay? Did that hurt your head?” Cade asked.
I kicked his foot with mine and he laughed.
“So you think I’m hot?” Cade’s eyes sparkled.
“Doesn’t every girl?”
It surprised me when his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. I wasn’t sure why that embarrassed him in any way. I was positive he already knew it. He ran one hand through his hair. Then he said, almost too quiet for me to hear, “You’re not every girl.
Kasie West (P.S. I Like You)
Okay, here are the top ten reasons why I can't stand my sister Lucy:
10. I get all her hand-me-downs, even her bras.
9. Whem I refuse to wear her hand-me-downs, especially her bras, I get the big lecture about waste and the environment. Look, I am way concerned about the environment. But that does not mean I want to wear me sister's old bras.I told Mom I see no reason why I should even have to wear a bra, seeing as how it's not like I've got a lot to put in one, causing Lucy to remark that if I don't wear a bra now, then if I ever do get anything up there. it will be all saggy like those tribal women we saw on the Discovery Channel.
8. This is another reason why I can't stand Lucy. Because she is always making these kind of remarks. What we should really do, if you ask me, is send Lucy's old bras to those tribal women.
7. Her conversations on the phone go like this: "No way... So what did he say?... Then what did she say?... No way... That is so totally untrue... I do not. I so do not... Who said that?... Well, it isn't true... No. I do not... I do not like him... Well, okay, maybe I do. Oh, gotta go, call-waiting.
Meg Cabot (All-American Girl (All-American Girl, #1))
I drop my face to my hands and scrub hard.
"I wish I had your boobs," I hear Sam announce and raise my head to see who she's talking to. Of course, she's talking to Bryn.
"Right," she smirks and takes another bite of brownie.
"Dude, I do!" And just like that, Sam saunters across the room and cups Brynna's tit in her palm. "See? You have the perfect boobs. Stace, have you felt her boobs?"
Just kill me. Put a bullet in my head and end the agony.
"Oh yeah," Stacy waves her off. "She has great tits."
She has amazing tits.
"I wanna feel!" Jules bounces over and joins in.
"Give me more chocolate and you can touch all you want." Brynna laughs and then glances over at me. "This is the most action I've had in months."
"Motherfuckingsonofawhore." I grumble.
"Is Brynna single?" Mark asks Will.
"Keep your fucking hands off her," I growl at him before I know what's coming out of my mouth.
"Hey," he holds his hands up in surrender and laughs. "It was just an innocent question.
Kristen Proby (Safe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #5))
This is scary,” she whispers. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know how this works. Do people become exclusive this fast? Are we supposed to pretend we’re not that interested for a few more dates?”
Oh, dear God.
I’ve never been turned on by a girl laying claim to me before. I usually run in the other direction. She’s obliterating every single thing I thought I knew about myself with every new sentence that passes those lips.
“I have no interest in faking disinterest,” I say. “If you want to call yourself my girlfriend half as much as I wish you would, then it would save me a whole lot of begging. Because I was literally about to drop to my knees and beg you.”
She squints her eyes playfully. “No begging. It screams desperation.”
“You make me desperate,” I say, pressing my lips to hers again.
Colleen Hoover (Finding Cinderella (Hopeless, #2.5))
You may claim no affiliation with them, but perhaps some have crossed your path.And perhaps you'd like to help us find them."
"Oh,sure.You killed my mother. You can imagine I'm dying to help you out."
Thomas manages to ignore me again. He glances at the first photo projected on the wall. "Know this person?"
I shake my head. "Never seen him before."
Thomas clicks the remote. Another photo pops up. "How about this one?"
Another photo. "How about this?"
Yet another stranger pops up on the wall. "Seen this girl before?"
"Never seen her in my life."
More unfamiliar faces. Thomas goes through them without blinking an eye or questioning my responses. What a stupid puppet of the state. I watch him as we continue, wishing I weren't chained so I could beat this man to the ground.
Marie Lu (Legend (Legend, #1))
It’s just… I wish it was easier, for me, you know?” I make a special point not to look at her. “I wish it was someone else who was chosen for this. Someone competent. If only I didn’t stop that robbery. I wish I didn’t have to go through with it all.” It comes gushing out, with words like spilled milk. “And I wish it was me with you and not that other guy. I wish it was my own skin touching with yours…”
And there you have it.
Stupidity in its purest form.
“Oh, Ed.” Audrey looks away. “Oh, Ed.”
Our feet dangle.
I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey’s legs.
We only sit there now.
Audrey and me.
Squeezed in, between us.
She soon says, “You’re my best friend, Ed.”
You can kill a man with those words.
Just words and a girl.
Markus Zusak (I Am the Messenger)
We ain’t spies,” I say in a hurry.
“The army your girl’s been talking about has been spotted marching down the river road,” Doctor Snow says. “One of our scouts just reported them as less than an hour away.”
“Oh, no,” I hear Viola whisper.
“She ain’t my girl,” I say, low.
“What?” Doctor Snow says.
“What?” Viola says.
“She’s her own girl,” I say. “She don’t belong to anyone.”
And does Viola ever look at me.
Patrick Ness (The Knife of Never Letting Go (Chaos Walking, #1))
I was on a mission. I had to learn to comfort myself, to see what others saw in me and believe it. I needed to discover what the hell made me happy other than being in love. Mission impossible.
When did figuring out what makes you happy become work? How had I let myself get to this point, where I had to learn me..? It was embarrassing. In my college psychology class, I had studied theories of adult development and learned that our twenties are for experimenting, exploring different jobs, and discovering what fulfills us. My professor warned against graduate school, asserting, "You're not fully formed yet. You don't know if it's what you really want to do with your life because you haven't tried enough things." Oh, no, not me.." And if you rush into something you're unsure about, you might awake midlife with a crisis on your hands," he had lectured it. Hi. Try waking up a whole lot sooner with a pre-thirty predicament worm dangling from your early bird mouth.
"Well to begin," Phone Therapist responded, "you have to learn to take care of yourself. To nurture and comfort that little girl inside you, to realize you are quite capable of relying on yourself. I want you to try to remember what brought you comfort when you were younger."
Bowls of cereal after school, coated in a pool of orange-blossom honey. Dragging my finger along the edge of a plate of mashed potatoes. I knew I should have thought "tea" or "bath," but I didn't. Did she want me to answer aloud?
"Grilled cheese?" I said hesitantly.
"Okay, good. What else?"
I thought of marionette shows where I'd held my mother's hand and looked at her after a funny part to see if she was delighted, of brisket sandwiches with ketchup, like my dad ordered. Sliding barn doors, baskets of brown eggs, steamed windows, doubled socks, cupcake paper, and rolled sweater collars. Cookouts where the fathers handled the meat, licking wobbly batter off wire beaters, Christmas ornaments in their boxes, peanut butter on apple slices, the sounds and light beneath an overturned canoe, the pine needle path to the ocean near my mother's house, the crunch of snow beneath my red winter boots, bedtime stories. "My parents," I said. Damn. I felt like she made me say the secret word and just won extra points on the Psychology Game Network. It always comes down to our parents in therapy.
Stephanie Klein (Straight Up and Dirty)
I wanna put you in my car and drive
And turn you up loud, roll down all the windows and shout it out
I love this girl oh
If I could press play, repeat how happy I’d be
Wherever I’d go I’d have you there with me
You’d be right where you belong
I wanna put you in a song, oh oh oh.
So, you’re happy with this arrangement, are you?’ Holly asked when I’d finished describing my first adventure with Hannah. We were sitting, as usual, on an ancient leather sofa by the front window of the café. ‘I mean, you do realise this girl has a boyfriend, don’t you?’ ‘So?’ I asked, grinning. ‘Why should that matter to me?’ ‘Because you fancy her.’ ‘What? No, I don’t fancy her.’ ‘Oh my god, Jamie, that’s such an obvious lie. You should see the way the two of you sit grinning at one another when you’re together. It’s like you’ve just discovered teeth.
Andy Marr (Hunger for Life)
Oh, Callie-mine," Anne said, her voice taking on a tone she'd used when Callie was a little girl and crying over some injustice, "your white knight, he will come."
One side of Callie's mouth kicked up in a wry smile. Anne had said those words countless times over the last two decades.
"Forgive me, Anne, but I'm not so certain that he will."
Oh, he will," Anne said firmly. "And when you least expect."
I find I'm rather tired of waiting." Callie laughed half-heartedly. "Which is probably why I've turned my attentions to such a dark knight.
Sarah MacLean (Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (Love By Numbers, #1))
I have missed you so much I could kiss you,” he whispered.
September’s face fell. “Oh, but Saturday! I’ve had my First Kiss and I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to, but your shadow is very rude and impulsive, and he took it before I could say two words! And I’ve had my second and third and maybe fifth, too. Come to think of it, this has all involved rather a lot of kissing.”
Saturday furrowed his brow. “Why should I care about your First Kiss?” he said. “You can kiss anyone you like. But if you sometimes wanted to kiss me, that would be all right, too.” His blush was so deep September could feel the heat of it.
She leaned in, and kissed her Marid gently, sweetly. She tried to kiss him the way she’d always thought kisses would be. His lips tasted like the sea.
Catherynne M. Valente (The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There (Fairyland, #2))
Things got out of hand. It happens.”
My brows flew up. “It happens? Often? Do you just walk around and happen to end up kissing girls? Do you slip and fall on girls’ mouths? If so, that’s got to be an awkward life to live.”
“Well . . .” The quirk to his lips was mischievous and teasing, but I was so not having it. He sighed. “Tess, you’re a beautiful girl and I’m a guy and—”
“Oh, shut up.”
His eyes widened.
“Don’t even finish what will most likely be the lamest sentence in the history of lame sentences. You’re attracted to me.
J. Lynn (Be with Me (Wait for You, #2))
So I get to be the bitch now? Fine. Then you, my friend, are the scary girl. 'He doesn't hit me. He doesn't abuse me. He doesn't cheat on me.' Can you hear yourself? If those are the standards you have--hey, he hasn't punched me, so everything must be okay!--that scares me. That makes me think that at some point you've used these justifications. 'Oh, it's really bad right now, and he's being awful...but at least he's not hitting me. Have a little more respect for yourself than that, okay?
David Levithan (Another Day (Every Day, #2))
We got hungry around three in the morning, and ordered a ton of pizza from an all-night pizza place. Afterward, Blake talked a guy into letting him borrow his skateboard, and he once again entertained all of us. If it had wheels, Blake could work it.
“Is he your boyfriend?” a girl behind me asked.
I turned to the group of girls watching Blake. They were all coifed and beautiful in their bikinis, not having gone in the water. My wet hair was pulled back in a ponytail by this point and I was wrapped in a towel. “No, he’s my boyfriend’s best friend. We’re watching his place while he’s . . . out of town.”
A pang of fear jabbed me when I thought about Kai.
“What’s your name?” asked a brunette with glossy lips.
“Anna.” I smiled.
“Hey. I’m Jenny,” she said. “This is Daniela and Tara.”
“Hey,” I said to them.
“So, your boyfriend lives here?” asked the blonde, Daniela. She had a cool accent—something European.
“Yes,” I answered, pointing up to his apartment.
The girls all shared looks, raising their sculpted eyebrows.
“Wait,” said Jenny. “Is he that guy in the band?”
The third girl, named Tara, gasped. “The drummer?” When I nodded, they shared awed looks.
“Oh my gawd, don’t get mad at me for saying this,” said Jenny, “but he’s a total piece of eye candy.” Her friends all laughed.
“Yum drum,” whispered Tara, and Daniela playfully shoved her.
Jenny got serious. “But don’t worry. He, like, never comes out or talks to anyone. Now we know why.” She winked at me. “You are so adorable. Where are you from?”
This was met with a round of awwws. “Hey, you’re a Southern girl,” said Tara. “You should like this.”
She held out a bottle of bourbon and I felt a tug toward it. My fingers reached out.
“Maybe just one drink,” I said.
Daniela grinned and turned up the music.
Fifteen minutes and three shots later I’d dropped my towel and was dancing with the girls and telling them how much I loved them, while they drunkenly swore to sabotage the efforts of any girl who tried to talk to my man.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Peril (Sweet, #2))
I intercepted Chaol, and he informed me of your ‘condition.’ You’d think a man in his position wouldn’t be so squeamish, especially after examining all of those corpses.”
Calaena opened an eye and frowned as Dorian sat on her bed. “I’m in a state of absolute agony and I can’t be bothered.”
“It can’t be that bad,” he said, fishing a deck of cards from his jacket. “Want to play?”
“I already told you that I don’t feel well.”
“You look fine to me.” He skillfully shuffled the deck. “Just one game.”
“Don’t you pay people to entertain you?”
He glowered, breaking the deck. “You should be honored by my company.”
“I’d be honored if you would leave.”
“For someone who relies on my good graces, you’re very bold.”
“Bold? I’ve barely begun.” Lying on her side, she curled her knees to her chest.
He laughed, pocketing the deck of cards. “Your new canine companion is doing well, if you wish to know.”
She moaned into her pillow. “Go away. I feel like dying.”
“No fair maiden should die alone,” he said, putting a hand on hers. “Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?”
She snatched her hand back. “How about the story of the idiotic prince who won’t leave the assassin alone?”
“Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending, too—why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince’s attention! Who would have guessed it? Such a clever girl. And the bedroom scene is so lovely—it’s worth reading through all of their ceaseless banter!”
“Out! Out! Out! Leave me be and go womanize someone else!” She grabbed a book and chucked it at him.
Sarah J. Maas (Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass, #1))
How is it different?"
He rolled his head back, sable hair falling down on his shoulders. "With Rose I knew what to say. I could take a step back and talk to her. I remembered all the crap from the magaznies. It was easy."
"And with me, it's hard?" Why? Because she was a swamp girl? And how did the magazines fit into it?
William looked away from her. "I don't like it when you're away. If I don't see you, I can't settle down. If I see you talking with another man, I want to claw his throat out. And none of the things you're supposed to say fit."
Oh, this had to be good. "What sort of things?"
He sighed. "The lines. Like, 'You're my everything,' or 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Ilona Andrews (Bayou Moon (The Edge, #2))
It's not right, man,” Jay said, following my stare. “Some guys have all the luck.”
“What?” I finally broke my trance to look at Jay.
“That guy, the drummer? Get this. He's a killer musician, he gets tons of chicks, his dad's loaded, and as if that wasn't enough, he's got a friggin' English accent!”
I had to smile at Jay's mix of envy and admiration.
“What's his name?” I hollered as the third song started.
“Kaidan Rowe. Oh, and that's another thing. A cool name! Bastard.”
“How do you spell it?” I asked. It sounded like Ky-den.
Jay spelled it for me. “It's A-I, like Thai food,” he explained.
Kai, like Thai, only yummier. Gah! Who was this girl invading my brain?
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
I'm going to ask Bree if she'll help me."
"I'm a little scared if her," I admit.
"Me too," Ally says, then laughs. "Maybe it's because she's so beautiful. Don't you think she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?"
I shake my head. "I've seen prettier."
"You have not."
"I have." It takes all my courage to look up.
"Oh," she says, and then blushes furiously.
Wendy Mass (Every Soul a Star)
Let's stay!" Ivy shouted.
"Oh no you don't," I said, grabbing her arm. "You called me to come get you."
"I changed my mind." She pouted.
"Too bad," I said and started pulling her away. She dug in her heels.
I sighed. "I have cookies in the car," I lied.
Her face brightened.
Drunk girls were idiots.
Cambria Hebert (#Nerd (Hashtag, #1))
You are the last Five left in the competition, yes? Do you think that hurts your chances of becoming the princess?"
The word sprang from my lips without thought. "No!"
"Oh, my! You do have a spirit there!" Gavril seemed pleased to have gotten such an enthusiastic response. "So you think you'll beat out all the others, then? Make it to the end?"
I thought better of myself. "No, no. It's not like that. I don't think I'm better than any of the other girls; they're all amazing. It's just...I don't think Maxon would do that, just discount someone because of their caste."
I heard a collective gasp. I ran over the sentence in my head. It took me a minute to catch my mistake: I'd called him Maxon. Saying that to another girl behind closed doors was one thing, but to say his name without the word "Prince" in front of it was incredibly informal in public.
And I'd said it on live television.
I looked to see if Maxon was angry. He had a calm smile on his face. So he wasn't mad...but I was embarrassed. I blushed fiercely.
"Ah, so it seems you really have gotten to know our prince. Tell me, what do you think of Maxon?"
I ahd thought of several answers while I was waiting for my turn. I was going to make fun of his laugh or talk about the pet name he wanted his wife to call him. It seemed like the only way to save the situation was to get back the comedy. But as I lifted my eyes to make one of my comments, I saw Maxon's face.
He really wanted to know.
And I couldn't poke fun at him, not when I had a chance to say what I'd really started to think now that he was my friend. I couldn't joke about the person who'd saved me from facing absolute heartbreak at home, who fed my family boxes of sweets, who ran to me worried that I was hurt if I asked for him.
A month ago, I had looked at the TV and seen a stiff, distant, boring person-someone I couldn't imagine anyone loving. And while he wasn't anything close to the person I did love, he was worthy of having someone to love in his life.
"Maxon Schreave is the epitome of all things good. He is going to be a phenomenal king. He lets girls who are supposed to be wearing dresses wear jeans and doesn't get mad when someone who doesn't know him clearly mislabels him." I gave Gavril a keen look, and he smiled. And behind him, Maxon looked intrigued. "Whoever he marries will be a lucky girl. And whatever happens to me, I will be honored to be his subject."
I saw Maxon swallow, and I lowered my eyes.
"America Singer, thank you so much." Gavril went to shake my hand. "Up next is Miss Tallulah Bell."
I didn't hear what any of the girls said after me, though I stared at the two seats. That interview had become way more personal than I'd intended it to be. I couldn't bring myself to look at Maxon. Instead I sat there replaying my words again and again in my head.
Kiera Cass (The Selection (The Selection, #1))
And how is Jamie doing?"
"Fine. He seems to be spending a lot of time in the shower," I noted quietly, my voice so low that even Jamie's super hearing couldn't pick it up.
Dick chuckled, followed by Zeb and Gabriel.
"Remember that summer I turned thirteen and my mom complained that she couldn't ever get me out of the bathroom?" Zeb asked.
"Yeah, but that's because you were-" I slapped my hand over my mouth. "Oh!"
"Welcome to the wonderful world of parenting," Zeb said. ""It's one big, horrifying miracle."
"Augh!" I grumbled.
Molly Harper (Nice Girls Don't Bite Their Neighbors (Jane Jameson, #4))
Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry
that breast your threshold with their scented gifts.
Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.
As for me, this body is now so arthritic
I cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.
Can you believe my white hair was once black?
And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.
Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.
To think I danced as delicate as a deer!
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:
useless: we are all born to lose life,
and what is worse, girls, to lose youth.
The legend of the goddess of the dawn
I’m sure you know: how rosy Eos
madly in love with gorgeous young Tithonus
swept him like booty to her hiding-place
but then forgot he would grow old and grey
while she in despair pursued her immortal way.
Are you enjoying your company so far?"
"Yes! It's been a pleasure getting to know these ladies."
"Are they all the sweet, gentle ladies they appear to be?" Gavril asked. Before Maxon replied, the answer brought a smile to my face. Because I knew that it was yes...sort of.
"Umm..." Maxon looked past Gavril at me. "Almost."
"Almost?" Gavril asked, surprised. He turned to us. "Is someone over there being naughty?"
Mercifully, all the girls let out light giggles, so I blended in. The little traitor!
"What exactly did these girls do that isn't so sweet?" Gavril asked Maxon.
"Oh, well, let me tell you." Maxon crossed his legs and got very comfortable in his chair. It was probably the most relaxed I'd ever seen him, sitting there poking fun at me. I liked this side of him. I wished it would come out more often. "One of them had the nerve to yell at me rather forcefully the first time we met. I was given a very severe scolding."
Above Maxon's head, the king and queen exchanged a glance. It seemed they were hearing this story for the first time, too. Beside me the girls were looking at one another, confused. I didn't get it until Marlee said something.
"I don't remember anyone yelling at him in the Great Room. Do you?"
Maxon seemed to have forgotten that our first meeting was meant to be a secret. "I think he's talking it up to make it funnier. I did say some serious things to him. I think he might mean me."
"A scolding, you say? Whatever for?" Gavril continued.
"Honestly, I wasn't really sure. I think it was a bout of homesickness. Which is why I forgave her, of course." Maxon was loose and easy now, talking to Gavril as if he were the only person in the room. I'd have to tell him later how wonderful he did.
"So she's still with us, then?" Gavril looked over at the collection of girls, grinning widely, and then returned to face his prince.
"Oh, yes. She's still here," Maxon said, not letting his eyes wander from Gavril's face. "And I plan on keeping her here for quite a while.
Kiera Cass (The Selection (The Selection, #1))
She reached to give him an awkward hug, and when he hugged her back, his hand accidentally
touched her belly. It was surprisingly hard and something shifted beneath the surface.
“Oh, shit!” he yelped, jerking back.
“It, uh, moved.”
“Feels like an alien, doesn’t it? I swear to God, I have nightmares that it’s going to burst out of my stomach like a monster. But I think it’s pretty
Victoria Dahl (Good Girls Don't (Donovan Brothers Brewery, #1))
Just a little pointer, Indy, girl to girl, if you want that week with Lee to last into two. He likes it
when you go down on him in the morning. He’s a fucking animal in bed but give him a morning BJ,
he’ll return the favor and rock your world.”
Every muscle in my body froze solid.
“What did she just say?” Stevie asked.
“She did not just say that in front of me,” Kitty Sue said.
“Holy crap,” Dolores said.
“Oh… my… gawd,” Tod said.
“You fucking bitch,” Ally said.
“This is more like it,” Tex said.
Kristen Ashley (Rock Chick (Rock Chick, #1))
He looked down at himself and laughed softly. ‘‘My dark side dresses better than I do.’’ He stood up
and reached for clothes folded neatly on a table to the side as he loosened the tie on his robe. He hesitated, smiled, and raised his
eyebrows. ‘‘If you don’t mind, Claire . . . ?’’
‘‘Oh. Sorry.’’ Claire turned her back. She didn’t like turning her back on him, even with the cell door locked. He was better
behaved when he knew she was watching. She focused on the faint, distorted image of his reflection on the TV screen as he shed
the dressing gown and began to pull on his clothing. She couldn’t see much, except that he was very pale all over. Once she was
sure his pants were up, she glanced behind her. He had his back to her, and she couldn’t help but compare him with the only other
man she’d really studied half-naked. Shane was broad, strong, solid. Myrnin looked fragile, but his muscles moved like cables
under that pale skin—far stronger than Shane’s, she knew.
Myrnin turned as he buttoned his shirt. ‘‘It’s been a while since a pretty girl looked at me with such interest,’’ he said. She looked
away, feeling the blush work its heat up through her neck and onto her cheeks. ‘‘It’s all right, Claire. I’m not offended.
Rachel Caine (Feast of Fools (The Morganville Vampires, #4))
“Exactly. Earlier there was a big, huge food chunk right here.” She pointed at her front tooth. “And nobody told me. Nobody. Oh wait, Mark told me after I’d been talking to him for five minutes.”
“You would’ve told me, right? Tricia should have told me. It’s girl code. I think Tricia likes Mark, too. That’s the problem here.”
“Maybe she didn’t see the food.”
“Lil, people on the space station saw this chunk of food. It was massive. And right on my front tooth.”
“That was rude of the people on the space station not to tell you about it.”
Kasie West (P.S. I Like You)
You died here," I said quietly.
"I wasn't here, and the girl I'm supposed to be finding was, and you died ." I looked up at him, glaring through the tears in my eyes. I left my fingers balanced on the floor, letting his blood sing its song of pain and longing. Longing to live; refusal to let go of the world. Maybe that's what differentiates the Kings and Queens of Cats from the rest of Faerie. They have a cat's stubbornness and the power to back it up. So when death says, "Go," they just refuse.
My heart hurt. My heart hurt so badly, and I was still trying to recover from Connor, and oh, Titania, I couldn't do this again. The thought startled me. I froze where I was, still glaring.
Tybalt sighed. "I know." he hesitated before adding, "This is not the time, and this is not the place, and my nephew needs us. But I ask you to consider this. I got better. I will always get better." He hesitated again - possibly the first time I'd ever seen him pause more than once after he'd decided he was going to say something.
Finally, he said, "Some of us, October, will not leave you.
Seanan McGuire (Ashes of Honor (October Daye, #6))
I'll tell the truth; all of my songs
Are pretty much the fucking same
I'm not a faerie but I need
More than this life so I became
This creature representing more to you
Than just another girl
And if I had a chance to change my mind
I wouldn't for the world
Can I trust you
But I don't want to
I don't want to be a legend
Oh well that's a god damned lie - I do
To say I do this for the people
I admit is hardly true
You tell me everything's all right
As though it's something you've been through
You think this torment is romantic
Well it's not except to you
Can I trust you
But I don't want to
I will swallow
If it will help my sea level go down
But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown
Low tide and high tea
The oysters are waiting for me
If I'm not there on time
I'll send my emissary
If I photoshop you
Out of every picture I could
Go quietly quiet
But would that do any good
Will it hurt? No it won't
Then what am I so afraid of
They made me what I'm made of
The brighter the light
The darker the shadow
I don't need a minder
I've made up my mind
He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on."
"Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony."
"It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look."
I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time.
And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky.
The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful.
Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home.
"Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?"
"Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.
Sarah Dessen (Keeping the Moon)
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.
Cassandra Clare (The Lost Herondale (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, #2))
I spent days and nights staring at the blank page, searching the deepest corners of my mind: who have I been, what have I seen, what did I learn? I thought about all the nights I've spent outside, all the times I laid down to cry and how I took a deep breath every morning and decided to simply go on. Because what else is there to do? Decide that this is it?
I quit, I'm done?
Oh if I could find words to justify those feelings I've carried. I could write the thickest of books with explosions of emotions from a young girl's lost heart. I could make you see, make you hear, make you feel, at least a tiny fragment
of what's out there.
Charlotte Eriksson (Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps)
Along with the trust issues, one of the hardest parts to deal with is the feeling of not being believed or supported, especially by your own grandparents and extended family. When I have been through so much pain and hurt and have to live with the scars every day, I get angry knowing that others think it is all made up or they brush it off because my cousin was a teenager. I was ten when I was first sexually abused by my cousin, and a majority of my relatives have taken the perpetrator's side. I have cried many times about everything and how my relatives gave no support or love to me as a kid when this all came out. Not one relative ever came up to that innocent little girl I was and said "I am sorry for what you went through" or "I am here for you." Instead they said hurtful things: "Oh he was young." "That is what kids do." "It is not like he was some older man you didn't know." Why does age make a difference? It is a sick way of thinking. Sexual abuse is sexual abuse. What is wrong with this picture? It brings tears to my eyes the way my relatives have reacted to this and cannot accept the truth. Denial is where they would rather stay.
Erin Merryn (Living for Today: From Incest and Molestation to Fearlessness and Forgiveness)
America," he begged.
I turned to Maxon.
"They're fine. The rebels were slow, and everyone here knows what to do in an emergency."
I nodded. We stood there quietly for a minute, and I could tell he was about to move on.
"Maxon," I whispered.
He turned back, a little surprised to be addressed so casually.
"About last night. Let me explain. When they came to prep us, to get us ready to come here, there was a man who told me that I was never to turn you down. No matter what you asked for. Not ever."
He was dumbfounded. "What?"
"He made it sound like you might ask for certain things. And you said yourself that you hadn't been around many women. After eighteen years...and then you sent the cameras away. I just got scared when you got that close to me."
Maxon shook his head, trying to process all this. Humiliation, rage, and disbelief all played across his typically even-tempered face.
"Was everyone told this?" he asked, sounding appalled at the idea.
"I don't know. I can't imagine many girls would need such a warning. They're probably waiting to pounce on you," I noted, nodding my head toward the rest of the room.
He gave a dark chuckle. "But you're not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?"
"I hit your thigh!"
"Oh, please. A man doesn't need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh," he replied, his voice full of skepticism.
A laugh escaped me. Thankfully, Maxon join in. Just then another mass hit the windows, and we stopped in unison. For a moment I had forgotten where I was.
"So how are you handling a roomful of crying women?" I asked.
There was a comical bewilderment in his expression. "Nothing in the world is more confusing!" he whispered urgently. "I haven't the faintest clue how to stop it."
This was the man who was going to lead our country: the guy rendered useless by tears. It was too funny.
Kiera Cass (The Selection (The Selection, #1))
Matthew sighed as he set the bottle on the mantel. “You know what they say,” he said, as he and James left the room and began to wend their way back toward the party. “Drink, and you will sleep; sleep, and you will not sin; do not sin, and you will be saved; therefore, drink and be saved.”
“Matthew, you could sin in your sleep,” said a languorous voice.
“Anna,” said Matthew, sagging against James’s shoulder. “Have you been sent to fetch us?”
Lounging against the wall was James’s cousin Anna Lightwood, gorgeously dressed in fitted trousers and a pin-striped shirt. She had the Herondale blue eyes, always disconcerting for James to see, as it felt a bit as if his father were looking at him. “If by ‘fetch,’ you mean ‘drag you back to the ballroom by any means possible,’ ” Anna said. “There are girls who need someone to dance with them and tell them they look pretty, and I cannot do it all on my own.”
The musicians in the ballroom suddenly struck up a tune—a lively waltz.
“Crikey, not waltzing,” said Matthew, in despair. “I loathe waltzing.”
He began to back away. Anna seized him by the back of the coat. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, and firmly herded both of them toward the ballroom.
Cassandra Clare (Chain of Gold (The Last Hours, #1))
You like my forearms?
No, not yours in particular. I mean, they're fine. Just, it's a sexy body part.
I totally agree. I just didn't know girls liked them too.
Oh, yes, Daniel. All girls like forearms. Every single one. No really, I've asked all of us and we all agree. We don't even agree about whether or not the long arm of the law should be able to reach into our vaginas, but we agree about forearms.
Roan Parrish (In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1))
Can't you get a guard or something to take me to the bathroom?" I asked.
"I am the guard," Ludlow snapped, sounding huffy.
"Oh,really?" I smirked at him, realizing this might be far easier than I thought.
"Don't underestimate me, Princess," Ludlow growled. "I eat girls like you for breakfast."
"So you're a cannibal?" I wrinkled my nose.
"Ludlow, are you harassing the poor girl?" came a voice from behind Ludlow. He moved to the side, and through the slot I saw Loki swaggering toward us.
"She's harassing me," Ludlow complained.
"Yes,talking to a beautiful Princess-what a rough lot you have in life," Loki said dryly, and Matt snorted behind me.
Amanda Hocking (Torn (Trylle, #2))
I have leveled with the girls - from Anchorage to Amarillo.
I tell them that all marriages are happy
It's the living together afterward that's tough.
I tell them that a good marriage is not a gift,
It's an achievement.
that marriage is not for kids It takes guts and maturity.
It separates the men from the boys and the women from the girls.
I tell them that marriage is tested dily by the ability to compromise.
Its survival can depend on being smart enough to know what's worth fighting about.
Or making an issue of or even mentioning.
Marriage is giving - and more important, it's forgiving.
And it is almost always the wife who must do these things.
Then, as if that were not enough, she must be willing to forget what she forgave.
Often that is the hardest part.
Oh, I have leveled all right.
If they don't get my message, Buster,
It's because they don't want to get it.
Rose-colored glasses are never made in bifocals
Because nobody wants to red the small print in dreams.
Desperately, Phoenix attempted to maneuver both tips of the instrument around the bullet. He knew that each move caused Nellie unimaginable pain, but he could not grasp the target. "It's no use," he sobbed. "And my hand is going numb."
In a frenzy, Nellie shouted something into the gag, but no one could understand her.
"I beg your pardon, child?" queried Alistair.
Nellie spat out the rag and rasped, "Get the Kabra chick!"
"Natalie?" Fiske exclaimed. "She's fallen completely to pieces."
"Get her!" Nellie demanded. "Anybody with eyebrows plucked like that knows how to use a tweezers!"
Reagan bounded across the room and came back with a shivering, mewling Natalie.
"I can't!" she wheezed.
Fiske poured alchohol over the girl's beautifully manicured fingers. "You must."
Still protesting, her eyes tightly shut, she took over the instrument from Phoenix. "I can't do it! You can't make me—oh!" She said in sudden surprise. "This?" And when she pulled the tweezers out of the wound, the tips were firmly grasping a flattened, blood-slimed bullet.
Nellie laughed—and promptly fainted.
Gordon Korman (The Medusa Plot (39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers, #1))
Like, this whole Molly thing with the secret crushes that go nowhere. I’m over it.” “Oh, you’re over it?” My throat tightens. “Uh, I’m sorry boys don’t like me.” “That is such bullshit, Molly. You don’t even talk to them.” Here we go. Cassie’s soapbox: the fact that I’ve had twenty-six crushes and exactly zero kisses. Apparently, it’s because I need to woman up. If I like a guy, I’m supposed to tell him. Maybe in Cassie’s world, you can do that and have it end in making out. But I’m not so sure it works that way for fat girls.
Becky Albertalli (The Upside of Unrequited)
Cookie?” he offered, holding up a cookie full of chocolate chips.
Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. “Sure.”
His lips tipped to one side and he leaned towards me, his mouth inches from mine. “Come and get it.”
Come and get…? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.
Oh, holy alien babies everywhere…
My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to check out what they were doing.
That cookie – those lips – were right there.
Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone else and Demon… dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me.
Dee gagged. “I think I’m going to hurl.”
Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take that cookie out of his mouth like something straight out of an R-rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to, and I wasn’t too sure what that said about me.
Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just won some battle. “Time’s up, Kitten.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Onyx (Lux, #2))
Tegan leans forward, pressing his lips to mine too quickly for my taste. "Because." Another kiss. "You're." Oh, one more. "My girl." Two kisses this time. "And it doesn't feel right for you to pay me for us to work out together. Because I want to be able to kiss you when I want and I can't do that if you're my client."
At least I think that's what he said. I'm not sure I caught anything after him telling me I'm his girl.
"I am? Your girl, I mean?"
He gives my waist a squeeze and I suck in my stomach. "I thought so, unless you're only using me for my make-out abilities."
"You're so -"
"Conceited. I know. But you like it.
Nyrae Dawn (Measuring Up)
Oh aye. He's as dangerous as a sack of blackmark vipers. A right cunt and no mistake.'
The boy raised his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape.
Mia met his tare, scowling. 'What?'
'My mother said that's a filthy word,' Tric Frowned.
'The filthiest. She told me never to say it. Especially in front of dona.'
'O, really.' The girl took another pull on her cigarillo, eyes narrowed. 'And whys that?'
'I don't know.' Tric found himself mumbling. 'It's just what she said.
Jay Kristoff (Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle, #1))
one night, they went down to the Village for dinner at an italian restaurant. most of the band had picked up young girls and had them hanging on their arms. janis was feeling lonesome and said, "goddamn, you guys have all these groupies and i don't have anybody."
turning to mark, the youngest person in the crowd, she ordered, "go out on the street there and find the first pretty boy you see and bring him to me."
aw, i dunno," mark said.
go ahead," janis said.
after a while, mark returned with a handsome, long-haired youth with a british accent. he was wearing a floor-length embroidered afghan wool coat. looking him over, janis nodded approvingly and said, "he's cute, mark!" turning to the young man, she said, "well! hi, honey! sit down! my name's janis joplin. have you ever heard of me?"
yeah," he said, "i've heard of you."
oh," she said, "what's your name?"
Ellis Amburn (Pearl: The Obsessions and Passions of Janis Joplin)
You veriest varlet.” Ashbury lowered his mangled face to within an inch of Chase’s nose. “This. Is. Nap. Time.” Chase was nonplussed. “What?” The duke rolled aside, resting on his elbow as he worked for breath. “My infant son is currently upstairs, sleeping for the first time in nineteen hours. The only thing keeping me from disemboweling you here in the entrance hall, you cream-faced rooting hog, is that you’d probably wake him with all your sniveling and sobbing for mercy.” “Oh.” Somewhere upstairs, a thin wail pierced the silence. Ashbury closed his eyes. “I hate you.
Tessa Dare (The Governess Game (Girl Meets Duke, #2))
Ginger, truth or dare?”
“Forgive me for taking the idea from Kai, but I dare you to snog Blake—” She modified the request at the insistent stare from her sister. “Oh, come on! Just the teeniest peck on the lips.”
I thought she would still refuse, but apparently she wasn't one to outright turn down a dare. She turned to Blake and pointed a finger at him.
“Try to cop a feel and I'll make Anna's chair flip look angelic,” she warned.
He grinned and she leaned in, both closing their eyes as she pressed her lips against his for one, two, three seconds. It appeared innocent, but they were shy when they pulled away and sat back.
“Right,” Ginger said, clearing her throat. “My turn. Jay, truth or dare?”
“Do you fancy Marna?”
“I'm not sure what that means, but if you're asking if I like her and think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever met and I wish she would move here, then yes.”
Marna and I giggled at his brazen, smitten openness.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
Oh,” Jace said carelessly, as if he hadn’t been waiting out here for the express purpose of seeing Simon off. He looked up, golden gaze casual, then looked away. “You.”
Being too cool for school was Jace’s thing. Simon supposed he must have understood and been fond of it, once.
“Hey, I figured I wasn’t going to get the chance to ask this again. You and me,” Simon said. “We’re pretty tight, aren’t we?”
Jace looked at him for a moment, face very still, and then bounded to his feet and said: “Absolutely. We’re like this.” He crossed two of his fingers together. “Actually, we’re more like this.” He tried to cross them again. “We had a little bit of initial tension, as you may later recall, but that was all cleared up when you came to me and confessed that you were struggling with your feelings of intense jealousy over my—these were your words—stunning good looks and irresistible charm.”
“Did I,” said Simon.
Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, buddy. I remember it clearly.”
“Okay, whatever. The thing is … Alec’s always really quiet around me,” Simon said. “Is he just shy, or did I tick him off and I don’t remember it? I wouldn’t like to go away without trying to make things right.”
Jace’s expression took on that peculiar stillness again. “I’m glad you asked me that,” he said finally. “There is something more going on. The girls didn’t want me to tell you, but the truth is—
Cassandra Clare (Welcome to Shadowhunter Academy (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, #1))
Well, now there is a very excellent, necessary, and womanly accomplishment that my girl should not be without, for it is a help to rich and poor, and the comfort of families depends upon it. This fine talent is neglected nowadays and considered old-fashioned, which is a sad mistake and one that I don't mean to make in bringing up my girl. It should be part of every girl's eductation, and I know of a most accomplished lady who will teach you in the best and pleasantest manner."
"Oh, what is it?" cried Rose eagerly, charmed to be met in this helpful and cordial way.
"Is that an accomplsihment?" asked Rose, while her face fell, for she had indulged in all sorts of vague, delightful daydreams.
Louisa May Alcott (Eight Cousins (Eight Cousins, #1))
Oh, come on, what’s the matter with Romeo and Juliet?”
Megan took the movie from my grasp to put it in the DVD player.
“Do you want a list?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Romeo’s whining about a girl one day, in love with Juliet the next. He has the decency to marry her but then they go back to her parent’s house? I mean, what kind of asinine plan is that? Come on, their families hate each other! If you’re going to sneak away and get married, just sneak away! It’s like watching the girl in a horror movie walk up the dark attic stairs. She totally deserves whatever
she gets at the top.”
"Are you saying they deserved to die?
Jolene Perry (The Next Door Boys (Next Door Boys, #1))
Jules: Emma? You haven't said anything since we left the church.
Emma: You're in love with me. Still.
Jules: What are you talking about?
Emma: I thought you didn't love me anymore. But that isn't true, is it?
Jules: Why are you saying that? Why now?
Emma: Because of the church. Because of what happened. We burned a church down, Julian, we melted stone.
Jules: What does that have to do with anyhing?
Emma: It has everything to do with. You don't understand. You can't.
Jules: You're right. I don't understand. I don't understand any of it, Emma. I don't understand why you suddenly decided you didn't want me, you wanted Mark, and then you decided you didn't wnat him either and you dropped him like he was nothing, in fron of everyone. What the hell were you thinking ...
Emma: What do you care? What do you care how I feel about Mark?
Jules: Because I needed you to love him. Because if you threw me away and everything we had, it had better be for something that meant more to you, it had better be for something real, but maybe none of this is ever real to you ...
Emma: Not real to me? You don't know what you're talking about, Julian Blackthron! You don't know what I've given up, what my reasons are for anything, you don't know what I'm trying to do ...
Jules: What you're trying to do? How about you did do? How about breaking my heart and breaking Cameron's and breaking Mark's? What, am I missing someone else, some other person whose life you want to wreck forever?
Emma: Your life isn't wrecked. You're still alive. You can have a good life! You kissed that faerie girl...
Jules: She was a leanansidhe! A shape-shifter! I thought se was you!
Emma: Oh. Oh.
Jules: Yes, oh. You really think I'm going to fall in love with someon else? You think I get to do that? I'm not you, I don't geet to fall in love every week with someone different. I wish it wasn't you, Emma, but it is, it'll always be you, so don't tell me life isn't wrecked when you don't know the first thing about it!
Cassandra Clare (Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices, #2))
I stopped at a red light, turned my head, and allowed myself to enjoy the handsomeness that was Brent.
He noticed my staring and asked, "What?"
"As if you don't know. You're not the type of guy that a girl gets tired of looking at."
"Oh. Well in that case, you're welcome to look all you want," he said and gestured to himself. "You're allowed to touch, too." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I lowered my voice into its sexy-husky range. "I was hoping you'd say that." With my flirtiest look on my face, I rubbed my hand slowly up his arm and then pinched him firmly on the shoulder.
"Ow!" Brent rubbed his shoulder and grinned. "Not what I had in mind!
Lani Woodland (Indelible (The Yara Silva Trilogy, #2))
It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me; he isn’t sentimental, doesn’t say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don’t seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble hopes and impulses and purposes, and am so proud to know it’s mine. He says he feels as if he ‘could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast.’ I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be when two people love and live for one another!
Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)
Charlie Brown: I think lunchtime is about the worst time of day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes, mornings aren't so pleasant either. Waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there's the night, too. Lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I've done during the day. And all those hours in between when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. Well, I guess I'd better see what I've got. Peanut butter. Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely...I guess they're right. And when you're really lonely, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. There's that cute little red-headed girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she would do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her?...She'd probably laugh right in my face...it's hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There's an empty place next to her on the bench. There's no reason why I couldn't just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand up...I'm standing up!...I'm sitting down. I'm a coward. I'm so much of a coward, she wouldn't even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can't remember her ever looking at me. Why shouldn't she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn't look at me? Is she so great, and I'm so small, that she can't spare one little moment?...SHE'S LOOKING AT ME!! SHE'S LOOKING AT ME!! (he puts his lunchbag over his head.) ...Lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. If that little red-headed girl is looking at me with this stupid bag over my head she must think I'm the biggest fool alive. But, if she isn't looking at me, then maybe I could take it off quickly and she'd never notice it. On the other hand...I can't tell if she's looking, until I take it off! Then again, if I never take it off I'll never have to know if she was looking or not. On the other hand...it's very hard to breathe in here. (he removes his sack) Whew! She's not looking at me! I wonder why she never looks at me? Oh well, another lunch hour over with...only 2,863 to go.
Clark Gesner (You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown)
Footsteps approach the kitchen. Garrett wanders in, wiping sweat off his brow. When he notices Sabrina, he brightens. “Oh good. You’re here. Hold on—gotta grab something.”
She turns to me as if to say, Is he talking to me?
He’s already gone, though, his footsteps thumping up the stairs.
At the table, Hannah runs a hand through her hair and gives me a pleading look. “Just remember he’s your best friend, okay?”
That doesn’t sound ominous.
When Garrett returns, he’s holding a notepad and a ballpoint pen, which he sets on the table as he sits across from Sabrina. “Tuck,” he says. “Sit. This is important.”
I’m so baffled right now. Hannah’s resigned expression doesn’t help in lessening the confusion.
Once I’m seated next to Sabrina, Garrett flips open the notepad, all business. “Okay. So let’s go over the names.”
Sabrina raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug, because I legitimately don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.
“I’ve put together a solid list. I really think you’re going to like these.” But when he glances down at the page, his face falls. “Ah crap. We can’t use any of the boy names.”
“Wait.” Sabrina holds up a hand, her brow furrowed. “You’re picking names for our baby?”
He nods, busy flipping the page.
My baby mama gapes at me.
I shrug again.
“Just out of curiosity, what were the boy names?” Grace hedges, clearly fighting a smile.
He cheers up again. “Well, the top contender was Garrett.”
I snicker loud enough to rattle Sabrina’s water glass. “Uh-huh,” I say, playing along. “And what was the runner-up?”
“But it’s okay. I have some kickass girl names too.” He taps his pen on the pad, meets our eyes, and utters two syllables. “Gigi.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I’m not naming my daughter Gigi.”
Sabrina is mystified. “Why Gigi?” she asks slowly.
Hannah sighs again.
The name suddenly clicks in my head. Oh for fuck’s sake.
“G.G.,” I mutter to Sabrina. “As in Garrett Graham.”
She’s silent for a beat. Then she bursts out laughing, triggering giggles from Grace and eventually Hannah, who keeps shaking her head at her boyfriend.
“What?” Garrett says defensively. “The godfather should have a say in the name. It’s in the rule book.”
“What rule book?” Hannah bursts out. “You make up the rules as you go along!”
Elle Kennedy (The Goal (Off-Campus, #4))
You okay?" he says, touching my cheek. His hand cradles the side of my head, his long fingers slipping through my hair. He smiles and holds my head in place as he kisses me. Heat spreads through me slowly.And fear, buzzing like an alarm in my chest.
His lips still on mine,he pushes the jacket from my shoulders.I flinch when I hear it drop,and push him back,my eyes burning. I don't know why I feel this way. I didn't feel like this when he kissed me on the train.I press my palms to my face,covering my eyes.
"What? What's wrong?"
I shake my head.
"Don't tell me it's nothing." His voice is cold.He grabs my arm. "Hey. Look at me."
I take my hands from my face and lift my eyes to his.The hurt in his eyes and the anger in his clenched jaw surprise me.
"Sometimes I wonder," I say,as calmly as I can, "what's in it for you. This...whatever it is."
"What's in it for me," he repeats. He steps back,shaking his head. "You're an idiot,Tris."
"I am not an idiot," I say. "Which is why I know that it's a little weird that,of all the girls you could have chosen,you chose me.So if you're just looking for...um,you know...that..."
"What? Sex?" He scowls at me. "You know, if that was all I wanted, you probably wouldn't be the first person I would go to."
I feel like he just punched me in the stomach. Of course I'm not the first person he would go to-not the first, not the prettiest,not desirable. I press my hands to my abdomen and look away, fighting off tears. I am not the crying type.Nor am I the yelling type. I blink a few times, lower my hands, and stare up at him.
"I'm going to leave now," I say quietly. And I turn toward the door.
"No,Tris." He grabs my wrist and wrenches me back. I push him away,hard, but he grabs my other wrist, holding our crossed arms between us.
"I'm sorry I said that," he says. "What I meant was that you aren't like that. Which I knew when I met you."
"You were an obstacle in my fear landscape." My lower lip wobbles. "Did you know that?"
"What?" He releases my wrists, and the hurt look is back. "You're afraid of me?"
"Not you," I say. I bite my lip to keep it still. "Being with you...with anyone. I've never been involved with someone before,and...you're older, and I don't know what your expectations are,and..."
"Tris," he says sternly, "I don't know what delusion you're operating under,but this is all new to me, too."
"Delusion?" I repeat. "You mean you haven't..." I raise my eyebrows. "Oh. Oh.I just assumed..." That because I am so absorbed by him, everyone else must be too. "Um. You know."
"Well,you assumed wrong." He looks away. His cheeks are bright,like he's embarrassed. "You can tell me anything, you know," he says. He takes my face in his hands,his fingertips cold and his palms warm. "I am kinder than I seemed in training. I promise."
I believe him.But this has nothing to do with his kindness.
He kisses me between the eyebrows, and on the tip of my nose,and then carefully fits his mouth to mine. I am on edge.I have electricity coursing through my veins instead of blood. I want him to kiss me,I want him to; I am afraid of where it might go.
Veronica Roth (Divergent (Divergent, #1))
She tried to hurt Fitz!" He turned to Gabriel and Dick. "That'll get her mad. "
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "She's been framed for murder twice over, shot in the back, her arms were set on fire, and her parents are being held hostage. You think tampered dog water is what's going to make her angry?"
"You tried to hurt my dog!" I wheezed as I lurched toward a grinning Missy.
"Oh, big deal, " Missy huffed. "It's the ugliest dog I've ever seen. "
"You tried to hurt my dog, " I said again.
"I would have been doing you a favor. " Missy sneered.
"Nobody. Screws. With. My. Dog. " I growled, punctuating each word with a punch to Missy's face. I gave an upper cut to the chin that sent her flying back into a pile on the ground.
Zeb grinned at Dick and Gabriel. "Told you.
Molly Harper (Nice Girls Don't Have Fangs (Jane Jameson, #1))
...It's not that she has not tried to improve her condition before acknowledging its hopelessness. (Oh, come on, let's get the hell out of this, and get into the first person.) I have sought, by study, to better my form and make myself Society's Darling. You see, I had been fed, in my youth, a lot of old wives' tales about the way men would instantly forsake a beautiful woman to flock about a brilliant one. It is but fair to say that, after getting out in the world, I had never seen this happen, but I thought that maybe I might be the girl to start the vogue. I would become brilliant. I would sparkle. I would hold whole dinner tables spellbound. I would have throngs fighting to come within hearing distance of me while the weakest, elbowed mercilessly to the outskirts, would cry "What did she say?" or "Oh, please ask her to tell it again." That's what I would do. Oh I could just hear myself."
-Review of the books, Favorite Jokes of Famous People, by Bruce Barton; The Technique of the Love Affair by "A Gentlewoman." (Actually by Doris Langley Moore.) Review title: Wallflower's Lament; November 17, 1928.
Dorothy Parker (Constant Reader)
CUSTOMER: Do you have a book with a list of careers? I want to give my daughter some inspiration.
BOOKSELLER: Ah, is she applying to university?
CUSTOMER: Oh no, not yet. She’s just over there. Sweetheart? (a four year old girl comes over)
CUSTOMER: There you are. Now, you talk to the nice lady, and I’m going to find you a book on how to become a doctor or a scientist. What do you think about that? (The girl says nothing)
CUSTOMER (to bookseller): Won’t be a sec. (Customer wanders off into non-fiction) BOOKSELLER: So, what’s your name? CHILD: Sarah.
BOOKSELLER: Sarah? That’s a beautiful name.
CHILD: Thank you.
BOOKSELLER: So, Sarah, what do you want to be when you grow up?
CHILD: . . . A bumblebee.
Jen Campbell (Weird Things Customers Say in Bookshops)
I end up watching this movie about some girl who's supposed to be so smart and edgy and unpopular. She wears glasses, that's how you know she's so smart. And she's the only one that has dark hair in the school- a place that looks like Planet Blond.
Anyway, she somehow ends up going to the prom- hello, gag- and she doesn't wear her glasses, so suddenly she's all beautiful. And she's bashful and shy because she doesn't feel comfortable wearing a dress. But then the guy says something like, "Wow, I never knew you were so pretty," and she feels on top of the world.
So, basically, the whole point is she's pretty. Oh, and smart, too. But what's really important here is that she's pretty.
For a second I think about Katie. About her thin little Clarissa Le Fey.
It must be a pain being fat. There are NO fat people on Planet Blond.
I don't get it. I mean, even movies where the actress is smart- like they seem like they'd be smart in real life, they're all gorgeous. And they usually get a boyfriend somewhere in the story. Even if they say they don't want one. They always, always end up falling in love, and you're supposed to be like, "Oh, good."
I once said this to my mom, and she laughed. "Honey, Hollywood... reality- two different universes. Don't make yourself crazy."
Which made me feel pretty pathetic. Like I didn't know the difference between a movie and the real world.
But then when everyone gets on you about your hair and your clothes and your this and your that, and "Are you fat?" and "Are you sexy?" you start thinking, Hey, maybe I'm not the only one who can't tell the difference between movies and reality.
Maybe everyone really does think you can look like that. And that you should look like that.
Because, you know, otherwise you might not get to go to the prom and fall in love.
Mariah Fredericks (Head Games)
I told her if she really cared about me, then she’d let me do whatever I wanted for my birthday, just like Mom did when I was twelve.”
“What happened when you were twelve?”
“Oh, Mom offered to take us all out for dinner—us girls, Dad was out of town—to celebrate, but I didn’t want to. This book I’d been waiting for had just come out, and the only thing I wanted to do was read it all night.”
“My God,” I said, touching the top of her nose. “You’re adorable.”
She swatted me away. “Anyway, Carly and Zoe really wanted to go out so that they could score a meal, but Mom just said, ‘It’s her birthday. Let her do whatever she wants.’”
“Your mom is cool.
Richelle Mead (The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines, #4))
My own dear love, he is strong and bold
And he cares not what comes after.
His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is jubilant as a flag unfurled—
Oh, a girl, she’d not forget him.
My own dear love, he is all my world,—
And I wish I’d never met him.
My love, he’s mad, and my love, he’s fleet,
And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And the skies are sunlit for him.
As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As the fragrance of acacia.
My own dear love, he is all my dreams,—
And I wish he were in Asia.
My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
He’ll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathway of the morrows.
He’ll live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart,—
And I wish somebody’d shoot him.
People listen to music for different reasons. Some people, -its background music— but other people need it to survive. Other people need music to get things out and maybe that’s just where I’m coming from, you know, when things weren’t easy for me, growing up. You know, music, I felt, saved my life. Pete Townshend, wherever you are, Pete, you saved my life. You know, whether he knows it or not. I wouldn’t be here. And I had absolutely nothing else besides music. And so that’s still, you know, that’s in me, and so if we’re gonna play, if we’re gonna get up and play, or write a song, you know, write about something that means something. You know, why write about, you know, 'Oh, pretty day', or, 'Pretty girl' or 'Pretty people', there’s nothing… people have different reasons for listening and playing. I need to —for me-, it’s much more.. religious!
He slouches,' DeeDee contributes.
'True--he needs to work on his posture,' Thelma says.
'You guys,' I say.
'I'm serious,' Thelma says. 'What if you get married? Don't you want to go to fancy dinners with him and be proud?'
'You guys. We are not getting married!'
'I love his eyes,' Jolene says. 'If your kids get his blue eyes and your dark hair--wouldn't that be fabulous?'
'The thing is,' Thelma says, 'and yes, I know, this is the tricky part--but I'm thinking Bliss has to actually talk to him. Am I right? Before they have their brood of brown-haired, blue-eyed children?'
I swat her. "I'm not having Mitchell's children!'
'I'm sorry--what?' Thelma says.
Jolene is shaking her head and pressing back laughter. Her expressing says, Shhh, you crazy girl!
But I don't care. If they're going to embarrass me, then I'll embarrass them right back.
'I said'--I raise my voice--'I am not having Mitchell Truman's children!'
Jolene turns beet red, and she and DeeDee dissolve into mad giggles.
'Um, Bliss?' Thelma says. Her gaze travels upward to someone behind me. The way she sucks on her lip makes me nervous.
'Okaaay, I think maybe I won't turn around,' I announce.
A person of the male persuasion clears his throat.
'Definitely not turning around,' I say. My cheeks are burning. It's freaky and alarming how much heat is radiating from one little me.
'If you change your mind, we might be able to work something out,' the person of the male persuasion says.
'About the children?' DeeDee asks. 'Or the turning around?'
'DeeDee!' Jolene says.
'Both,' says the male-persuasion person.
I shrink in my chair, but I raise my hand over my head and wave.
'Um, hi,' I say to the person behind me whom I'm still not looking at. 'I'm Bliss.'
Warm fingers clasp my own.
'Pleased to meet you,' says the male-persuasion person. 'I'm Mitchell.'
'Hi, Mitchell.' I try to pull my hand from his grasp, but he won't let go. 'Um, bye now!'
I tug harder. No luck. Thelma, DeeDee, and Jolene are close to peeing their pants.
Fine. I twist around and give Mitchell the quickest of glances. His expressions is amused, and I grow even hotter.
He squeezes my hand, then lets go. 'Just keep me in the loop if you do decide to bear my children. I'm happy to help out.' With that, he stride jauntily to the food line.
Once he's gone, we lost it. Peals of laughter resound from our table, and the others in the cafeteria look at us funny. We laugh harder.
'Did you see!' Thelma gasps. 'Did you see how proud he was?'
'You improve his posture!' Jolene says.
'I'm so glad, since that was my deepest desire,' I say. 'Oh my God, I'm going to have to quit school and become a nun.'
'I can't believe you waved at him,' DeeDee says.
'Your hand was like a little periscope,' Jolene says. 'Or, no--like a white surrender flag.'
'It was a surrender flag. I was surrendering myself to abject humiliation.'
'Oh, please,' Thelma says, pulling me into a sideways hug. 'Think of it this way: Now you've officially talked to him.
Lauren Myracle (Bliss (Crestview Academy, #1))
I always wondered what your type was, but I never imagined it would be a hard-core rocker!”
Here we go. I had been hoping he'd be too sleepy for this conversation.
“He's not my type. If I had a type it would be...nice. Not some hotheaded, egocentric male slut.”
“Did you just call him a male slut?” Jay laughed. “Dang, that's, like, the worst language I've ever heard you use.”
I glowered at him, feeling ashamed, and he laughed even harder.
“Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you. What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?”
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. “I don't know. What?”
“A drummer!” I shook my head while he cracked up at his joke for another minute before hounding me again about Kaidan. “All right, so you talked about my CDs, you had some cultural confusion with some of his lingo, then you talked about hot dogs? That can't be everything. You looked seriously intense.”
“That's because he was intense, even though we weren't really talking about anything. He made me nervous.”
“You thought he was hot, didn't you?”
I stared out my window at the passing trees and houses. We were almost to school.
“I knew it!” He smacked the steering wheel, loving every second of my discomfort. “This is so weird. Anna Whitt has a crush.”
“Fine, yes. He was hot. But it doesn't matter, because there's something about him I don't like. I can't explain it. He's...scary.”
“He's not the boy next door, if that's what you mean. Just don't get the good-girl syndrome.”
“You know. When a good girl falls for a bad boy and hopes the boy will fall in love and magically want to change his ways. But the only one who ends up changing is the girl.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
... Anyway, you put too much stock in hierarchy and fear.”
“Who else? I could spot it a mile away. All you cared about was your mission, whatever it is. You’re like a driven arrow with a very depressing shadow. First time I met you, I knew you’d cut my throat to get whatever it is you want.” She waits for a moment. “What is it that you want, by the way?”
“To win,” I say.
“Oh, please. You’re not that simple.”
“You think you know me?” The rabbit hisses out fat over the fire.
“I know you cry in your sleep for a girl named Eo. Sister? Or a girl you loved? It is a very offColor name. Like yours.”
“I’m a farplanet hayseed. Didn’t they tell you?”
“They wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t get out much.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. All that matters is that no one trusts you because it’s obvious you care more about your goal than you do about them.”
“And you’re something different?”
“Oh, very much so, Sir Reaper. I like people more than you do. You are the wolf that howls and bites. I am the mustang that nuzzles the hand. People know they can work with me. With you? Hell, kill or be killed.
Pierce Brown (Red Rising (Red Rising Saga #1))
Don't you recognize me?'
Marius bent hastily forward and saw that it was indeed that unhappy girl, clad in a man's clothes.
'How do you come to be here? What are you doing?'
'I'm dying,' she said.
There are words and happenings which arouse even souls in the depths of despair. Marius cried, as though starting out of sleep:
'You're wounded! I'll carry you into the tavern. They'll dress your wound. Is it very bad? How am I to lift you without hurting you? Help, someone! But what are you doing here?'
He tried to get an arm underneath her to raise her up, and in doing so touched her hand. She uttered a weak cry.
'Did I hurt you?'
'But I only touched your hand.'
She lifted her hand for him to see, and he saw a hole in the centre of the palm.
'What happened?' he asked.
'A bullet went through it.'
'A bullet? But how?'
'Don't you remember a musket being aimed at you?'
'Yes, and a hand was clapped over it.'
'That was mine.'
'What madness! Your poor child! Still, if that's all, it might be worse. I'll get you to a bed and they'll bind you up. One doesn't die of a wounded hand.'
'The ball passed through my hand, but it came out through my back. It's no use trying to move me. I'll tell you how you can treat my wound better than any surgeon. Sit down on that stone, close beside me.'
Marius did so. She rested her head on his knee and said without looking at him:
'Oh, what happiness! What bliss! Now I don't feel any pain.
Victor Hugo (Les Misérables)
Question," says Christina, leaning forward. "The leaders who were watching your fear landscape...they were laughing at something."
"Oh?" I bite my lip hard. "I'm glad my terror amuses them."
"Any idea which obstacle it was?" she asks.
"You're lying," she says. "You always bite the inside of your cheek when you lie. It's your tell."
I stop biting the inside of my cheek.
"Will's is pinching his lips together, if it makes you feel better," she adds.
Will covers his mouth immediately.
"Okay,fine.I was afraid of...intimacy," I say.
"Intimacy," repeats Chrstina. "Like...sex?"
I tense up.And force myself to nod.Even if it was just Christina, and no one else was around,I would still want to strangle her right now. I go over a few ways to inflict maximum injury with minimum force in my head. I try to throw flames from my eyes.
"What was that like?" she says. "I mean,did someone just...try to do it with you? Who was it?"
"Oh,you know. Faceless...unidentifiable male," I say. "How were your moths?"
"You promised you would never tell!" cries Christina,smacking my arm.
"Moths," repeats Will. "You're afraid of moths?"
"Not just a cloud of moths," she says, "like...a swarm of them. Everywhere. All those wings and legs and..." She shudders and shakes her head.
"Terrifying," Will says with mock seriousness. "That's my girl. Tough as cotton balls."
Veronica Roth (Divergent (Divergent, #1))
But I thought we might get naked, just like Adam and Eve, so natural...”
I gasped. I'd forgotten all about that part of my conversation with Scott! Utter humiliation. I curled into a tighter ball.
“Oh, come on. You haven't even thanked me yet.”
“For what?” I asked, still not looking.
“For saving you from snogging that plonker. You didn't really fancy him, did you?”
My cheeks burned, and I was glad to be turned away from him. I kept my mouth shut.
“So that's it, then?” he asked. I ignored him. “I always wondered what it would feel like.”
That made me curious enough to turn to him.
“What what would feel like?” I asked.
“Rejection.” He seemed in the midst of a revelation.
“What are you saying? That no girl has ever told you no?”
Well, that explained a lot.
“And what about you?” I asked. "Haven't you ever stopped or said no to a girl?”
He laughed as if I'd said something ridiculous. "Why would I do that?”
“Lots of reasons,” I said. “Never mind, just go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” I turned away from him again, punching the thick pillow and laying my head down.
“I suppose I did refuse one, but she doesn't count,” he said.
“Because she was Neph.”
Discomfort gnawed at me.
“This must be the part where I take a cold shower?” he asked.
When he was in the bathroom with the water running, I jumped down and changed into my pajamas. Then I leaped back into bed and chanted to myself, Don't think about the kiss. Don't think about the kiss. Impossible.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
I remember a little girl...
But how can that be...
Once I was that little Resi,
and then one day I became an old woman?
...If God wills it so, why allow me to see it?
Why doesn't he hide it from me?
Everything is a mystery, such a deep mystery...
I feel the fragility of things in time.
From the bottom of my heart, I feel we should
cling to nothing.
Everything slips through our fingers.
All that we seek to hold on to dissolves.
Everything vanishes, like mist and dreams...
Time is a strange thing.
When we don't need it, it is nothing.
Then, suddenly, there is nothing else.
It is everywhere around us. Also within us.
It seeps into our faces.
It seeps into the mirror, runs through my temples...
Between you and I it runs silently, like an hourglass.
Oh, Quin Quin.
Sometimes I feel it flowing inexorably.
Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night
and stop all the clocks...
Carlo Rovelli (L'ordine del tempo)
Because I kissed you? Seriously? You only like me because I’m a good kisser? That’s it. We’re not doing this. I’m not letting you risk your life just
because you can’t think with your upstairs brain.”
“No, you twit.” Ryan laughed. “Because you kissed me that day. I expected the ice queen and got a funny, go-with-the-flow girl that didn’t care what
anyone thought about her. A girl willing to stir up gossip just so that I could win a date with someone else.
“You didn’t have to help me. In fact, you probably should have been insulted, but you weren’t.
You kissed me, you smiled, and then you wished me good luck. No one’s ever surprised me like that. I couldn’t figure out why you did it, and I just
had to get to know you after that.” I had no idea that stupid kiss had that kind of effect on him. Charged him up like a battery, sure, but do all that? All
this time I really thought it was just the superkissing that kept him coming back. I looked down at my lunch, feeling a little ashamed of my lack of faith
in him, but Ryan couldn’t stop there.
Oh, no, not Ryan Miller.
“After that day, every time I was with you I got brief glimpses of the real Jamie, the one who is dying to break out, and she was this fun, relaxed,
smart, funny, caring girl. Finding out the truth about you only made you that much more incredible. You’re so strong. You’ve gone through so much,
you’re going through so much, but you never stop trying. You’re amazing.” I was surprised when I felt Ryan’s hand lift my chin up. I didn’t want to look
at him, I knew what would happen to my heart if I did, but I couldn’t stop myself. I craved him too much.
When we made eye contact, his face lit up and he whispered, “I love you, Jamie Baker.” It came out of nowhere, and it stole the breath from me,
leaving me speechless. Ryan stared at me, just waiting for some kind of reaction, and then I was the one who broke the no-kissing rule.
It wasn’t my fault. He totally cheated! Like anyone could resist Ryan Miller when he’s touching your face and saying he loves you?
I threw myself at him so fast that I startled him for a change, and he was the one who had to pull me off him when his hair started to stick up.
“Sorry,” I breathed as he pulled away.
“Don’t be sorry,” he teased. “Just stop.”
“Sorry,” I said again when I noticed that his leg was now bouncing under the table.
“Yeah. Looks like I don’t get to sleep through economics today.”
“On the bright side, Coach could make you run laps all practice long and you’d be fine.
Kelly Oram (Being Jamie Baker (Jamie Baker, #1))
I noticed several things about the drummer all at once. He was focused on the task at hand, keeping perfect rhythm. Instead of a swirl of transparent colors around his torso, there was a small, concentrated starburst of bright red at his sternum. But otherwise his aura was blank. Huh. That was strange. But before I could contemplate it too much, my eyes landed on his face.
He was smokin' hot. As in H-O-T-T hot. I'd never understood until that moment why girls insisted on adding an extra T. This guy was extra-T worthy.
I examined the drummer, determined to find a flaw.
Brown hair. An interesting haircut: short around the sides and back, but longer on top, hanging loose and angling across his forehead. His eyes were narrow and his eyebrows were a bit thick and...Oh, who was I kidding? I could pick him apart, but even the shifty slant of his eyes made him more alluring to me.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
Niphon, standing with a glass of wine, regarded me with curious amusement as I headed straight for him.Considering I usually avoided him if it all possible, my approach undoubtedly astonished him.
But not as much as when I punched him.
I didn’t even need to shape-shift much bulk into my fist. I’d caught him by surprise. The wineglass fell out of his hand, hitting the carpet and spilling its contents like blood. The imp flew backward, hitting Peter’s china cabinet with a crash. Niphon slumped to the floor, eyes wide with shock. I kept coming. Kneeling, I grabbed his designer shirt and jerked him toward me.
“Stay the fuck out of my life, or I will destroy you,” I hissed.
Terror filled his features. “Are you out of your fucking mind? What do you—” Suddenly, the fear disappeared. He started laughing. “He did it, didn’t he? He broke up with you. I didn’t know if he could do it, even after giving him the spiel about how it’d be better for both of you. Oh my. This is lovely. All your so-called charms weren’t enough to—ahh!”
I’d pulled him closer to me, digging my nails into him, and finally, I felt an emotion. Fury. Niphon’s role had been greater than I believed. My face was mere inches from his.
“Remember when you said I was nothing but a backwoods girl from some gritty fishing village? You were right. And I had to survive in gritty circumstances—in situations you’d never be able to handle. And you know what else? I spent most of my childhood gutting fish and other animals.” I ran a finger down his neck. “I can do it for you too. I could slit you from throat to stomach. I could rip you open, and you’d scream for death. You’d wish you weren’t immortal. And I could do it over and over again.”
That wiped the smirk off Niphon’s face.
Richelle Mead (Succubus Dreams (Georgina Kincaid, #3))
Miss Edi: My brother Bertrand is the laziest person in the world.
David: Oh yeah? And how lazy is that?
Miss Edi: When he was three and saw all his gifts under the Christmas tree, he said, 'Who's going to open them for me?'
David: I've heard worse.
Miss Edi: When he was six, my father bought him a bicycle and took him out to teach him to ride it.
Miss Edi: Bertrand did very well. My father ran along behind him, holding on, and my brother balanced perfectly. But when my father let go and the bicycle stopped, Bertrand asked why. When my father said he had to push on the pedals, my brother left it lying there in the street, and he never got on a bicycle again.
David: Not bad, but I've heard worse.
Miss Edi: When he was twelve, my parents took us out to a restaurant, the first one we'd ever been to, and my father ordered steaks for each of us. When my brother's came, he looked at it and asked how he was to eat it. My father showed him how to cut the steak, then how to chew it. My brother called the waiter back and ordered a bowl of mashed potatoes.
David: Okay, that's getting up there, but I have heard a few worse.
Miss Edi: When he was sixteen, my mother arranged for her beloved son to go to a dance with a very nice young girl. He was to pick her up at six pm. At six-thirty Bertrand was sitting in the living room and my father asked him why he hadn't gone on his date. My brother said, 'Because she hasn't come to get me yet.
Jude Deveraux (Lavender Morning (Edilean, #1))
Go on, my dear," urges the snake. "Take one. Hear it? 'Pluck me,' it's saying. That big, shiny red one. 'Pluck me, pluck me now and pluck me hard.' You know you want to."
"But God," quotes Eve, putting out feelers for an agent provacateur, clever girl, "expressly forbids us to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge."
"Ah yessssss, God ... But God gave us life, did He not? And God gave us desire, did He not? And God gave us taste, did He not? And who else but God made the damned apples in the first place? So what else is life for but to tassste the fruit we desire?"
Eve folds her arms schoolgirlishly. "God expressly forbade it. Adam said."
The snake grins through his fangs, admiring Eve's playacting. "God is a nice enough chap in His way. I daresay He means well. But between you and The Tree of Knowledge, He is terribly insecure."
"Insecure? He made the entire bloody universe! He's omnipotent."
"Exactly! Almost neurotic, isn't it? All this worshiping, morning, noon, and night. It's 'Oh Praise Him, Oh Praise Him, Oh Praise the Everlassssting Lord.' I don't call that omnipotent. I call it pathetic. Most independent authorities agree that God has never sufficiently credited the work of virtual particles in the creation of the universssse. He raises you and Adam on this diet of myths while all the really interesting information is locked up in these juicy apples. Seven days? Give me a break.
David Mitchell (Ghostwritten)
Your grandparents are English?"
"Grandfather is,but Grandmere is French. And my other grandparents are American,of course."
"Wow.You really are a mutt."
St. Clair smiles. "I'm told I take after my English grandfather the most, but it's only because of the accent."
"I don't know.I think of you as more English than anything else.And you don't just sound like it,you look like it,too."
"I do?" He surprised.
I smile. "Yeah,it's that...pasty complexion. I mean it in the best possible way," I add,at his alarmed expression. "Honestly."
"Huh." St. Clair looks at me sideways. "Anyway.Last summer I couldn't bear to face my father, so it was the first time I spent the whole holiday with me mum."
"And how was it? I bet the girls don't tease you about your accent anymore."
He laughs. "No,they don't.But I can't help my height.I'll always be short."
"And I'll always be a freak,just like my dad. Everyone tells me I take after him.He's sort of...neat,like me."
He seems genuinely surprised. "What's wrong with being neat? I wish I were more organized.And,Anna,I've never met your father,but I guarantee you that you're nothing like him."
"How would you know?"
"Well,for one thing,he looks like a Ken doll.And you're beautiful."
I trip and fall down on the sidewalk.
"Are you all right?" His eyes fill with worry.
I look away as he takes my hand and helps me up. "I'm fine.Fine!" I say, brushing the grit from my palms. Oh my God, I AM a freak.
"You've seen the way men look at you,right?" he continues.
"If they're looking, it's because I keep making a fool of myself." I hold up my scraped hands.
"That guy over there is checking you out right now."
"Wha-?" I turn to find a young man with long dark hair staring. "Why is he looking at me?"
"I expect he likes what he sees."
I flush,and he keeps talking. "In Paris, it's common to acknowledge someone attractive.The French don't avert their gaze like other cultures do. Haven't you noticed?"
St. Clair thinks I'm attractive. He called me beautiful.
"Um,no," I say. "I hadn't noticed."
"Well.Open your eyes."
But I stare at the bare tree branches, at the children with balloons, at the Japanese tour group. Anywhere but at him. We've stopped in front of Notre-Dame again.I point at the familiar star and clear my throat. "Wanna make another wish?"
"You go first." He's watching me, puzzled, like he's trying to figure something out. He bites his thumbnail.
This time I can't help it.All day long, I've thought about it.Him.Our secret.
I wish St. Clair would spend the night again.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
I scooted out of the laundry room and skipped down the hallway, arms flaying around my head like one of the hot pink puppets from the movie Labyrinth. “A scent and a sound, I’m lost and I’m found. And I’m hungry like the wolf. Something on a line, it’s discord and rhyme—whatever, whatever, la la la—Mouth is alive, all running inside, and I’m hungry like the—” Warmth spread down my neck.
“It’s actually, ‘I howl and I whine. I’m after you,’ and not blah or whatever.”
Startled by the deep voice, I shrieked and whipped around. My foot slipped on a section of well-cleaned wood and my butt smacked on the floor.
“Holy crap,” I gasped, clutching my chest. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“And I think you broke your butt.” Laughter filled Daemon’s voice.
I remained sprawled across the narrow hallway, trying to catch my breath. “What the hell? Do you just walk into people’s houses?”
“And listen to girls absolutely destroy a song in a matter of seconds? Well, yes, I make a habit out of it. Actually, I knocked several times, but I heard your…singing, and your door was unlocked.” He shrugged.
“So I just let myself in.”
“I can see that.” I stood, wincing. “Oh, man, maybe I did break my butt.”
“I hope not. I’m kind of partial to your butt.” He flashed a smile. “Your face is pretty red. You sure you didn’t smack that on the way down?”
I groaned. “I hate you.
Jennifer L. Armentrout
No Child of Yours
I saw a child hide in the corner
So I went and asked her name
She was so naive and so petite
With such a tiny frame.
'No one,' she replied, that's what I am called
I have no family, no one at all
I eat, I sleep, I get depressed
There is no life, I have nothing left.'
'Why hide in the corner?' I had to ask twice
Because I've been hurt, it not very nice
I tried to stop it, it was out of my control
I feared for myself I wanted to go.
I begged for my sorrow to disappear
I turned in my bed, oh God, I knew they were near
'So come on little girl, where do you go
A path ahead, or a path to unknown?'
With that she arose, her head hung low
She held herself for only she knows
Her tears held back, her heart like ice
It looks as though she has paid the price.
The ice started melting, her tears to flow
The memories flood back, still so many years to go
The pain, the anger all built up inside
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
It will get better, just wait and see
You'll get a life, though you'll never be fire
Open your heart and love yourself
The abuse you suffered was NOT your fault.
Teresa Cooper (Pin Down)
[speaking of a friend named Lavendar Lewis] 'I think her parents gave her the only right and fitting name that could possibly be given her,' said Anne. 'If they had been so blind as to name her Elizabeth or Nellie or Muriel she must have been called Lavendar just the same, I think. It's so suggestive of sweetness and old-fashioned graces and "silk attire." Now, my name just smacks of bread and butter, patchwork and chores.'
'Oh, I don't think so,' said Diana. 'Anne seems to me real stately and like a queen. But I'd like Kerenhappuch if it happened to be your name. I think people make their names nice or ugly just by what they are themselves. I can't bear Josie or Gertie for names now but before I knew the Pye girls I thought them real pretty.'
'That's a lovely idea, Diana,' said Anne enthusiastically. 'Living so that you beautify your name, even if it wasn't beautiful to begin with...making it stand in people's thoughts for something so lovely and pleasant that they never think of it by itself. Thank you, Diana.
L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Avonlea (Anne of Green Gables, #2))
So, you guyes are like us in other, uh, departments?”
Deamon sat up, arching a brow. “Come again?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “You know, like sex? I mean, you guys are all glowy and stuff. I don’t see how certain stuff would work.”
Deamon’s lips curled into a half smile, and that was the only warning he gave. Moving unbelievably fast, I was on my back and he was above me in a flash. “Are you asking if I’m attracted to human girls?” he asked. Dark, wet waves of hair fell forward. Tiny droplets of water fell off the ends, splashing against my cheek. “Or are you asking if I’m attracted to you?”
Using his hands, he lowered himself slowly. There wasn’t an inch of space between our bodies. Air fled my lungs at the contact of his body against mine. He was male and ripped in all the places I was soft. Being this close to him was startling, causing an array of sensations to zing through me. I shivered. Not from the cold, but from how warm and wonderful he felt. I could feel every breath he took, and when he shifted his hips, my eyes went wide and I gasped.
Oh yeah, certain stuff was definitely working.
Daemon rolled off me, onto his back beside me. “Next question?” he asked, voice deep and thick.
I didn’t move. I stared wide-eyed at the blue-skies. “You could’ve just told me, you know?” I looked at him. “You didn’t have to show me.”
“And what fund would there be in telling you?” He turned his head toward me. “Next question, Kitten?”
“Why do you call me that?”
“You remind me of a little fuzzy kitten, all claws and no bite.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Obsidian (Lux, #1))
What about you and me, Adina?” Duff said, sidling up to her by the railing. “I know I screwed up. But do you think we could start over?”
Adina thought about everything that had happened. Part of her wanted to kiss Duff McAvoy, the tortured British trust-fund-runaway-turned-pirate-of-necessity who loved rock ‘n’ roll and mouthy-but-vulnerable bass-playing girls from New Hampshire. But he didn’t exist. Not really. He was a creature of TV and her imagination, a guy she’d invented as much as he’d invented himself. And this was what she suddenly understood about her mother: how with each man, each husband, she was really trying to fill in the sketchy parts of herself and become somebody she could finally love. It was hard to live in the messiness and easier to believe in the dream. And in that moment, Adina knew she was not her mother after all. She would make mistakes, but they wouldn’t be the same mistakes. Starting now.
“Sorry,” she said, heading for the bow, where a spot of sun looked inviting. ”Oh, also, about that blog? Just so you know, my dads know a lot of gay lawyers. Bitches will take your ass down if you try to publish that. Peace out.
Libba Bray (Beauty Queens)
mad maddie: I GOT ACCEPTED TO SANTA CRUZ!!!!
zoegirl: maddie!!!! yay!!!!!
mad maddie: i know! it's incredible!
SnowAngel: *squeals and hugs sweet maddie*
SnowAngel: tell us every single detail!!!
mad maddie: well, i got home from school and saw this big thick envelope on the kitchen counter, with "Santa Cruz Admissions Office" as the return address. i got really fidgety and just started screaming, right there in the house. no one was there but me, so i could be as loud as i wanted.
mad maddie: i took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but my hands were shaking. i opened the envelope and pulled out a folder that said, "Welcome to Santa Cruz!" inside was a letter that said, "Dear Madigan. You're in!"
mad maddie: isn't that cool? i LOVE that, that instead of being all prissy and formal, they're like, "you're in! yahootie!"
SnowAngel: oh maddie, i am sooooo happy for u!
mad maddie: i ran out to my car all jumping and hopping around and drove to ian's, cuz i knew neither of u would be home yet. i showed him my letter and he hugged me really hard and lifted me into the air. it was AWESOME.
zoegirl: i'm so proud of u, maddie!
SnowAngel: me 2!
Lauren Myracle (l8r, g8r (Internet Girls, #3))
You aren't like your mom."
"I am.But I don't want to be like that anymore,I want what I want." He turns to me again,his face anxious. "I told my father's friends that I'm studying at Berkeley next year.It worked.He's really,really angry with me,but it worked.You told me to go for his pride.You were right."
"So." I'm cautious,hardly daring to believe. "You're moving to California?"
"I have to."
"Right." I swallow hard. "Because of your mom."
"Because of you. I'll only be a twenty-minute train ride from your school,and I'll make the commute to see you every night.I'd take a commute ten times that just to be with you every night."
His words are too perfect.It must be a misunderstanding,surely I'm misunderstanding-
"You're the most incredible girl I've ever known.You're gorgeous and smart, and you make my laugh like no one else can.And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don't deserve you,but what I'm trying to say is that I love you,Anna.Very much."
I'm holding my breath.I can't talk,but my eyes are filling with tears.
He takes it the wrong way. "Oh God.And I've mucked things up again,haven't I? I didn't mean to attack you like this.I mean I did but...all right." His voice cracks. "I'll leave.Or you can go down first,and then I'll come down,and I promise I'll never bother you again-"
He starts to stand,but I grab his arm. "No!"
His body freezes. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I never mean to hurt you."
I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. "Please stop apologizing,Etienne."
"Say my name again," he whispers.
I close my eyes and lean forward. "Etienne."
He takes my hands into his.Those pefect hands,that fit mine just so. "Anna?"
Our foreheads touch. "Yes?"
"Will you please tell me you love me? I'm dying here."
And then we're laughing.And them I'm in his arms,and we're kissing,at first quickly-to make up for lost time-and then slowly,because we have all the time in the world.And his lips are soft and honey sweet,and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I taste,too.
And in between kisses,I tell him I love him.
Again and again and again.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss, #1))
Miss Peyton,” Lillian Bowman asked, “what kind of man would be the ideal husband for you?”
“Oh,” Annabelle said with irreverent lightness, “any peer will do.”
“Any peer?” Lillian asked skeptically. “What about good looks?”
Annabelle shrugged. “Welcome, but not necessary.”
“What about passion?” Daisy inquired.
“Intelligence?” Evangeline suggested.
Annabelle shrugged. “Negotiable.”
“Charm?” Lillian asked.
“You don’t want much,” Lillian remarked dryly. “As for me, I would have to add a few conditions. My peer would have to be dark-haired and handsome, a wonderful dancer…and he would never ask permission before he kissed me.”
“I want to marry a man who has read the entire collected works of Shakespeare,” Daisy said. “Someone quiet and romantic—better yet if he wears spectacles— and he should like poetry and nature, and I shouldn’t like him to be too experienced with women.”
Her older sister lifted her eyes heavenward. “We won’t be competing for the same men, apparently.”
Annabelle looked at Evangeline Jenner. “What kind of husband would suit you, Miss Jenner?”
“Evie,” the girl murmured, her blush deepening until it clashed with her fiery hair. She struggled with her reply, extreme bashfulness warring with a strong instinct for privacy. “I suppose…I would like s-s-someone who was kind and…” Stopping, she shook her head with a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t know. Just someone who would l-love me. Really love me.”
The words touched Annabelle, and filled her with sudden melancholy. Love was a luxury she had never allowed herself to hope for—a distinctly superfluous issue when her very survival was so much in question. However, she reached out and touched the girl’s gloved hand with her own. “I hope you find him,” she said sincerely. “Perhaps you won’t have to wait for long.
Lisa Kleypas (Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers, #1))
Mystery the moon
A hole in the sky
A supernatural nightlight
So full but often right
A pair of eyes, a closin' one,
A chosen child of golden sun
A marble dog that chases cars
To farthest reaches of the beach and far beyond into the swimming sea of stars
A cosmic fish they love to kiss
They're giving birth to constellation
No riffs and oh, no reservation.
If they should fall you get a wish or dedication
May I suggest you get the best
For nothing less than you and I
Let's take a chance as this romance is rising over before we lose the lighting
Oh bella bella please
Bella you beautiful luna
Oh bella do what you do
Do do do do do
You are an illuminating anchor
Of leagues to infinite number
Crashing waves and breaking thunder
Tiding the ebb and flows of hunger
You're dancing naked there for me
You expose all memory
You make the most of boundary
You're the ghost of royalty imposing love
You are the queen and king combining everything
Intertwining like a ring around the finger of a girl
I'm just a singer, you're the world
All I can bring ya
Is the language of a lover
Bella luna, my beautiful, beautiful moon
How you swoon me like no other
May I suggest you get the best
Of your wish may I insist
That no contest for little you or smaller I
A larger chance happened, all them they lie
On the rise, on the brink of our lives
Bella you beautiful luna
Oh bella do what you do
Bella luna, my beautiful, beautiful moon
How you swoon me like no other, oh oh oh
Russkie, promise me a simple thing?" Out of the blue when they had finished, after a mouthful from the mug. Dan seemed relaxed, leaning on his side. Resting back, savoring the taste, Vadim turned his head to look at Dan. Oh, that body. The effect it had on him, all the time, even when Dan wasn't there. Twelve months. "Promise what?"
Sometimes, that kind of thing was about letters. Tell my girl I love her. Tell my mother I didn't suffer. Almost painful. Letters. Words that would hurt worse than the killing bullet.
"Simple." Dan nodded, "if I'm unlucky, and if you find my body, will you bury it? Some rocks would do, I can't stand the thought of carrion's. As if that mattered, eh? I'd be fucking dead." Dan shrugged, tossed a grin towards the other, made light of an entirely far too heavy situation. He took the bottle once more, washing down the taste of death and decay, chasing away unbidden images.
Vadim felt a shudder race over his skin. The thought of death chilled him to the bone, like a premonition. For a moment he saw himself stagger through enemy territory, looking for something that had been Dan. Minefields, snipers, fucking Hind hellfire. He might be able to track him. He might be able to guess where he had gone, where he had fallen. He had found the occasional pilot. But he had had help. Finding a dead man in a country full of dead people was more of a challenge.
"I'll send you home," he murmured. Stay alive, he thought. Stay alive like you are now. I don't want to carry your rotting body to fucking Kabul and hand myself in to whatever bastard is your superior or handler there, but it must be Kabul. I can't hand myself over. But I will. Fuck you. He felt his face twitch, and turned away, breathing.
"No, I have no home anymore." Dan's hand stopped Vadim from turning over fully. Fingers digging into the muscular thigh. "Not my brother's family. Nowhere to send the body to. Forget it." Grip tightening while he moved closer. Ignored the heat, the damned fan and its monotonous creaking, pressed his body behind the other. "You're as close to a fucking home as I get.
Marquesate (Special Forces - Soldiers (Special Forces, #1))
The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. And she had lost him again--had lost him again! At the sight of the familiar childish nickname all the hopelessness of her bereavement came over her afresh, and she put out her hands in blind desperation, as though the weight of the earth-clods that lay above him were pressing on her heart.
Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading:
"I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So if I am to keep at all my promise to tell you everything, I must keep it now. But, after all, there is not much need of explanations between you and me. We always understood each other without many words, even when we were little things.
"And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to break your heart over that old story of the blow. It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had plenty of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get over them,--even to pay back a few of them,--and here I am still, like the mackerel in our nursery-book (I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, oh!' This is my last kick, though; and then, tomorrow morning, and--'Finita la Commedia!' You and I will translate that: 'The variety show is over'; and will give thanks to the gods that they have had, at least, so much mercy on us. It is not much, but it is something; and for this and all other blessings may we be truly thankful!
"About that same tomorrow morning, I want both you and Martini to understand clearly that I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask no better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini as a message from me; he is a good fellow and a good comrade, and he will understand. You see, dear, I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are doing us a good turn and themselves a bad one by going back to secret trials and executions so soon, and I know that if you who are left stand together steadily and hit hard, you will see great things. As for me, I shall go out into the courtyard with as light a heart as any child starting home for the holidays. I have done my share of the work, and this death-sentence is the proof that I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because they are afraid of me; and what more can any man's heart desire?
"It desires just one thing more, though. A man who is going to die has a right to a personal fancy, and mine is that you should see why I have always been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget old scores. Of course, though, you understand why, and I tell you only for the pleasure of writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you were an ugly little girl in a gingham frock, with a scratchy tucker and your hair in a pig-tail down your back; and I love you still. Do you remember that day when I kissed your hand, and when you so piteously begged me 'never to do that again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; but you must forgive that; and now I kiss the paper where I have written your name. So I have kissed you twice, and both times without your consent.
"That is all. Good-bye, my dear"
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die
Ethel Lilian Voynich
What is wrong with you?” I say in lieu of greeting. “You went to Morris’s dorm and declared your intentions?”
He offers a faint smile. “Of course. It was the noble thing to do. I can’t be chasing after another guy’s girl without his knowledge.”
“I’m not his girl,” I snap. “We went on one date! And now I’m never going to be his girl, because he doesn’t want to go out with me again.”
“What the hell?” Logan looks startled. “I’m disappointed in him. I thought he had more of a competitive spirit than that.”
“Seriously? You’re going to pretend to be surprised? He won’t see me again because your jackass self told him he couldn’t.”
Astonishment fills his eyes. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Is that what he told you?” Logan demands.
“Not in so many words.”
“I see. Well, what words did he actually use?”
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “He said he’s backing off because he doesn’t want to get in the middle of something so complicated. I pointed out that there’s nothing complicated about it, seeing as you and I are not together.” My aggravation heightens. “And then he insisted that I need to give you a chance, because you’re a—” I angrily air-quote Morris’s words “—‘stand-up guy who deserves another shot.’”
Logan breaks out in a grin.
I stab the air with my finger. “Don’t you dare smile. Obviously you put those words in his mouth. And what the hell was he jabbering about when he told me you and him were ‘family’?” All the disbelief I’d felt during my talk with Morris comes spiraling back, making me pace the bedroom in hurried strides. “What did you say to him, Logan? Did you brainwash him or something? How are you guys family? You don’t even know each other!”
Strangled laughter sounds from Logan’s direction. I spin around and level a dark glower at him.
“He’s talking about the joint family we created in Mob Boss. It’s this role-playing game where you’re the Don of a mob family and you’re fighting a bunch of other mafia bosses for territory and rackets and stuff. We played it when I went over there, and I ended up staying until four in the morning. Seriously, it was intense.” He shrugs. “We’re the Lorris crime syndicate.”
Oh my God.
Lorris? As in Logan and Morris? They fucking Brangelina’d themselves?
“What is happening?” I burst out. “You guys are best friends now?”
“He’s a cool guy. Actually, he’s even cooler in my book now for stepping down like that. I didn’t ask him to, but clearly he grasps what you refuse to see.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” I mutter.
“That you and I are perfect for each other.”
No words. There are no words to accurately convey what I’m feeling right now. Horror maybe? Absolute insanity? I mean, it’s not like I’m madly in love with Morris or anything, but if I’d known that kissing Logan at the party would lead to…this, I would have strapped on a frickin’ chastity gag.
Elle Kennedy (The Mistake (Off-Campus, #2))
He leaned closer. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Your face is absolutely adorable when you blush.”
My ears burned. Oh great, am I the color of a tomato now?
“Yeah, well, I can make you blush,” I retorted. “By telling you how hot you are, and that when that little piece of black hair falls into your eyes, it’s so sexy it makes me forget my words, and...” I stopped, suddenly aware of how warm the mausoleum was.
“Go on,” Caspian prodded, shaking his head so that his hair covered one green eye. I blushed again, and glanced around me, slowly backing away from him. I just needed some... space to clear my head. He followed me, stalking my every move. My blood felt like pure oxygen racing through my veins, fizzy and bubbling and making me want to float away. A hard wall at my back stopped me, but Caspian kept coming. I thought desperately of some way to change the subject.
“I got you Moby-Dick,” I blurted out. He gave me a sly smile.
“Mmmm, did you? How... interesting.”
“And Treasure Island, and The Count of Monte Cristo.” I babbled on. “I thought you might like some boy books.” He stopped an inch away from me. I felt like I was his prisoner.
“Let’s go back to the sexy and hot thing,” Caspian said. “Could we add a gorgeous or mysterious in there, too?”
I gulped. “Like you don’t already know you’re all of those things. You probably had girls falling all over you before.”
Caspian cocked his head to one side. “True. But I always thought it was because I was the quiet new guy. And besides, there’s only one person I was ever really interested in.”
“Was?” I squeaked. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean—”
“Am,” Caspian corrected himself. “Technically, I guess it’s both. I was interested the first day I saw her, and I still am interested in her.”
His eyes glowed in the soft candlelight around us, and every last ounce of coherent thought left me.
“It’s... um... really. It’s...” My head felt like it was thickening and my body was overheating, every word dragged from somewhere in the depths of my fuzzy brain.
I waved a hand in front of my face to fan myself, and finally spit out what I was trying to say. “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think? It’s really warm.”
“I only feel warmth when I’m standing next to you,” Caspian said. He stepped half an inch closer. “Like right now.
Jessica Verday (The Haunted (The Hollow, #2))
Raw emotions and the need to hold him close overwhelmed me. Every part of ached for him-my mind, my soul and my body. Without hesitation, i closed the gap between us and pressed my lips eagerly to his.
Noah's hands were everywhere, my hair, my face, my back, and for the love of all things holy, my breasts. My hands roamed his glorious body just as greedily. After drugging me with delicious kisses for not nearly long enough, his warm lips skimmed my throat and kissed down the center of my breasts, causing me to arch my back and lose my ever loving mind.
Without meaning to, i moaned and whispered his name when his hands wandered to my thighs and set my world and blood on fire. Noah eased me back into the bed and my hair sprawled all around me.
"I love how you smell," he whispered as he suckled my earlobe. "I love how beautiful you are."
I reclaimed his lips and hooked a leg around his as we moved in rhythm with each other. In between frantic kisses, i whispered the words, "I love you". Because i did. Noah listened to me. He made me laugh and he made me feel special. He was strong and warm and caring and...everything. I loved him. I loved him more than i'd ever loved another person in my life.
Every muscle in my body froze when Noah stopped kissing and stare down at me with wide eyes. He caressed my cheek twice over and tilted his head. "Make love to me, Echo. I've never made love."
No way. Noah's experienced reputation walked down the hallway before he did. "But..."
Noah cut me off with a kiss. "Yes, but never love. Just girls who didn't mean anything" You..." His tongue teased my bottom lip, thawing my body. "Are everything. I got tested over winter break and i'm clean and i've got protection." He reached to the side of the bed and magically produced a small orange square.
I froze again. Sensing my hesitation, Noah kissed my lips slowly while stroking my cheek.
"And since break?" I asked.
"There's been no one," he whispered against my lips. "I met you soon after and i could never think of touching anyone else."
I loved him and we were together. I entwined my fingers in his hair and pulled his head back to mine, but the second his hand touched the waist of my jeans, my heart shook and my hands snapped out to stop him. "Please. Wait. Noah..." Oh, God, i was actually going to say it. "I'm a virgin."
Now Noah froze. "But you were with Luke."
A faint smile grew on my lips. I was typically the tongue-tied one and found it amusing to see him confused for once. "That's why we broke up. I wasn't ready."
He shifted his body off of mine and tuckled me close against his warmth. I laid my head on his chest and listened to the comforting sound of his beating heart. Noah ran his hand through my hair. "I'm glad you told me. This needs to be right for you and i'll wait, for as long as you need.
Katie McGarry (Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1))
Neel cuts in: "Where'd you grow up?"
"Palo Alto," she says. From there to Stanford to Google: for a girl obsessed with the outer limits of human potential, Kat has stayed pretty close to home.
Neel nods knowingly. "The suburban mind cannot comprehend the emergent complexity of a New York sidewalk."
"I don't know about that," Kat says, narrowing her eyes. "I'm pretty good with complexity."
"See, I know what you're thinking," Neel says, shaking his head.
"You're thinking it's just an agent-based simulation, and everybody out here follows a pretty simple set of rules"-- Kat is nodding--"and if you can figure out those rules, you can model it. You can simulate the street, then the neighborhood, then the whole city. Right?"
"Exactly. I mean, sure, I don't know what the rules are yet, but I could experiment and figure them out, and then it would be trivial--"
"Wrong," Neel says, honking like a game-show buzzer. "You can't do it. Even if you know the rules-- and by the way, there are no rules--but even if there were, you can't model it. You know why?"
My best friend and my girlfriend are sparring over simulations. I can only sit back and listen.
Kat frowns. "Why?"
"You don't have enough memory."
"Oh, come on--"
"Nope. You could never hold it all in memory. No computer's big enough. Not even your what's-it-called--"
"The Big Box."
"That's the one. It's not big enough. This box--" Neel stretches out his hands, encompasses the sidewalk, the park, the streets beyond--"is bigger."
The snaking crowd surges forward.
Robin Sloan (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore, #1))
So I got my stuff and the girl at the register puts these other things in my bag, too. Little free samples: gum and a comb and a marker pen. So I says to her, 'Look, girlie, I got false teeth and I wear a wig.' So she fishes back in my bag and takes out the comb and the gum. Left the pen in there. Anyways, I went back to the van, even though I knew it was locked. Figured I'd just wait and have a smoke. You can't smoke in the van, see? So while I'm waiting there, minding my own business, this car pulls into the handicapped space right next to us--brand-new car, white and clean, and it's got this bumper sticker on it that says, 'Life Is a Shit Sandwich.' Isn't that stupid? So this guy gets out--good-lookin' fella, in his twenties. I say to him, 'Hey, handsome, tell me something.' He takes a look at my walker and gets all panicky. 'I'm just running in for two seconds,' he says. See, he thinks I'm going to yell at him for parking in a handicapped space, but I ain't. I don't give a rat's ass about that, you see. I'd rather walk the extra ten feet than be called handicapped. Where was I?'
She amazed me. 'Life's a shit sandwich,' I said.
'Oh, yeah. Right. So that guy goes runnin' into the store and here's what I did. I fished that free pen out of the bag and marched right over there to that bumper of his. Got myself right down on the ground--and I wrote--just after the 'Life's a shit sandwich' part--I wrote, 'But only if you're a shithead.' 'Course, then I couldn't get myself back up again--had to yell over to a couple of kids at the phone booth to come pick me back up.
After dinner, I went upstairs and found Ren standing on the veranda again, looking at the sunset. I approached him shyly and stood behind him. “Hello, Ren.”
He turned and openly studied my appearance. His gaze drifted ever so slowly down my body. The longer he looked, the wider his smile got. Eventually, his eyes worked their way back up to my bright red face.
He sighed and bowed deeply. “Sundari. I was standing here thinking nothing could be more beautiful than this sunset tonight, but I was mistaken. You standing here in the setting sun with your hair and skin aglow is almost more than a man can…fully appreciate.”
I tried to change the subject. “What does sundari mean?”
“It means ‘most beautiful.’”
I blushed again, which made him laugh. He took my hand, tucked it under his arm, and led me to the patio chairs. Just then, the sun dipped below the trees leaving its tangerine glow in the sky for just a few more moments.
We sat again, but this time he sat next to me on the swinging patio seat and kept my hand in his.
I ventured shyly, “I hope you don’t mind, but I explored your house today, including your room.”
“I don’t mind. I’m sure you found my room the least interesting.”
“Actually, I was curious about the note I found. Did you write it?”
“A note? Ah, yes. I just scribbled a few notes to help me remember what Phet had said. It just says seek Durga’s prophecy, the Cave of Kanheri, Kelsey is Durga’s favored one, that sort of thing.”
“Oh. I…also noticed a ribbon. Is it mine?”
“Yes. If you’d like it back, you can take it.”
“Why would you want it?”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I wanted a memento, a token from the girl who saved my life.”
“A token? Like a fair maiden giving her handkerchief to a knight in shining armor?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
I jested wryly, “Too bad you didn’t wait for Cathleen to get a little older. She’s going to be very pretty.”
He frowned. “Cathleen from the circus?” He shook his head. “You were the chosen one, Kelsey. And if I had the option of choosing the girl to save me, I still would have picked you.”
“A number of reasons. I liked you. You are interesting. I enjoyed listening to your voice. I felt like you saw through the tiger skin to the person underneath. When you spoke, it felt like you were saying exactly the things I needed to hear. You’re smart. You like poetry, and you’re very pretty.”
I laughed at his statement. Me, pretty? He can’t be serious. I was average in so many ways. I didn’t really concern myself with current makeup, hairstyles, or fashionable, but uncomfortable, clothes like other teenagers. My complexion was pale, and my eyes were so brown that they were almost black. By far, my best feature was my smile, which my parents paid dearly for and so did I-with three years of metal braces.
Still, I was flattered. “Okay, Prince Charming, you can keep your memento.” I hesitated, and then said softly, “I wear those ribbons in memory of my mom. She used to brush out my hair and braid ribbons through it while we talked.”
Ren smiled understandingly. “Then it means even more to me.
Colleen Houck (Tiger's Curse (The Tiger Saga, #1))
As you can see,” Daisy said, “one glass is filled with soap water, one with clear, and one with blue laundry water. The other, of course, is empty. The glasses will predict what kind of man you will marry.”
They watched as Evie felt carefully for one of the glasses. Dipping her finger into the soap water, Evie
waited for her blindfold to be drawn off, and viewed the results with chagrin, while the other girls erupted with giggles.
“Choosing the soap water means she will marry a poor man,” Daisy explained.
Wiping off her fingers, Evie exclaimed good-naturedly, “I s-suppose the fact that I’m going to be m-married at all is a good thing.”
The next girl in line waited with an expectant smile as she was blindfolded, and the glasses were repositioned. She felt for the vessels, nearly overturning one, and dipped her fingers into the blue water. Upon viewing her choice, she seemed quite pleased. “The blue water means she’s going to marry a noted author,” Daisy told Lillian. “You try next!”
Lillian gaveher a speaking glance. “You don’t really believe in this, do you?”
“Oh, don’t be cynical—have some fun!” Daisy took the blindfold and rose on her toes to tie it firmly around Lillian’s head.
Bereft of sight, Lillian allowed herself to be guided to the table. She grinned at the encouraging cries of the young women around her. There was the sound of the glasses being moved in front of her, and she waited with her hands half raised in the air. “What happens if I pick the empty glass?” she asked.
Evie’s voice came near her ear. “You die a sp-spinster!” she said, and everyone laughed.
“No lifting the glasses to test their weight,” someone warned with a giggle. “You can’t avoid the empty glass, if it’s your fate!”
“At the moment I want the empty glass,” Lillian replied, causing another round of laughter. Finding the smooth surface of a glass, she slid her fingers up the side and dipped them into the cool
liquid. A general round of applause and cheering, and she asked, “Am I marrying an author, too?”
“No, you chose the clear water,” Daisy said. “A rich, handsome husband is coming for you, dear!”
“Oh, what a relief,” Lillian said flippantly, lowering the blindfold to peek over the edge. “Is it your turn
Her younger sister shook her head. “I was the first to try. I knocked over a glass twice in a row, and made a dreadful mess.”
“What does that mean? That you won’t marry at all?”
“It means that I’m clumsy,” Daisy replied cheerfully. “Other than that, who knows? Perhaps my fate has
yet to be decided. The good news is that your husband seems to be on the way.”
“If so, the bastard is late,” Lillian retorted, causing Daisy and Evie to laugh.
Lisa Kleypas (It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers, #2))
I'll be right here. Good luck, or break a leg, or something.”
As Jay and Gregory turned and headed into the crowd, my traitorous eyes returned to the corner and found another pair or eyes staring darkly back.
I dropped my gaze for three full seconds, and then lifted my eyes again, hesitant. The drummer was still staring at me, oblivious to the three girls trying to win back his attention. He put up one finger at the girls and said something that looked like, “Excuse me.”
Oh, my goodness. Was he...? Oh, no. Yes, he was walking this way.
My nerves shot into high alert. I looked around, but nobody else was near. When I looked back up, there he was, standing right in front of me. Good gracious, he was sexy-a word that had not existed in my personal vocabulary until that moment. This guy was sexy like it was his job or something.
He looked straight into my eyes, which threw me off guard, because nobody ever looked me in the eye like that. Maybe Patti and Jay, but they didn't hold my stare like he was doing now. He didn't look away, and I found that I couldn't take my gaze off those blue eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked in a blunt, almost confrontational way.
I blinked. It was the strangest greeting I'd ever received.
“Right. Anna. How very nice.” I tried to focus on his words and not his luxuriously accented voice, which made everything sound lovely. He leaned in closer. “But who are you?”
What did that mean? Did I need to have some sort of title or social standing to enter his presence?
“I just came with my friend Jay?” Oh, I hated when I got nervous and started talking in questions. I pointed in the general direction of the guys, but he didn't take his eyes off me. I began rambling. “They just wrote some songs. Jay and Gregory. That they wanted you to hear. Your band, I mean. They're really...good?”
His eyes roamed all around my body, stopping to evaluate my sad, meager chest. I crossed my arms. When his gaze landed on that stupid freckle above my lip, I was hit by the scent of oranges and limes and something earthy, like the forest floor. It was pleasant in a masculine way.
“Uh-huh.” He was closer to my face now, growling in that deep voice, but looking into my eyes again. “Very cute. And where is your angel?”
My what? Was that some kind of British slang for boyfriend? I didn't know how to answer without continuing to sound pitiful. He lifted his dark eyebrows, waiting.
“If you mean Jay, he's over there talking to some man in a suit. But he's not my boyfriend or my angel or whatever.”
My face flushed with heat and I tightened my arms over my chest. I'd never met anyone with an accent like his, and I was ashamed of the effect it had on me. He was obviously rude, and yet I wanted him to keep talking to me. It didn't make any sense.
His stance softened and he took a step back, seeming confused, although I still couldn't read his emotions. Why didn't he show any colors? He didn't seem drunk or high. And that red thing...what was that? It was hard not to stare at it.
He finally looked over at Jay, who was deep in conversation with the manager-type man.
“Not your boyfriend, eh?” He was smirking at me now. I looked away, refusing to answer.
“Are you certain he doesn't fancy you?” Kaidan asked. I looked at him again. His smirk was now a naughty smile.
“Yes,” I assured him with confidence. “I am.”
“How do you know?”
I couldn't very well tell him that the only time Jay's color had shown mild attraction to me was when I accidentally flashed him one day as I was taking off my sweatshirt, and my undershirt got pulled up too high. And even then it lasted only a few seconds before our embarrassment set in.
Wendy Higgins (Sweet Evil (Sweet, #1))
And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes”
says the man with a cart of empty bottles at the corner of church
and lincoln while I stare into my phone and I say
I know oh I know while trying to find the specific
filter that will make the sun’s near-flawless descent look
the way I might describe it in a poem and the man
says the moment is already right in front of you and I
say I know but everyone I love is not here and I mean
here like on this street corner with me while I turn
the sky a darker shade of red on my phone and I mean
here like everyone I love who I can still touch and not
pass my fingers through like the wind in a dream
but I look up at the man and he is a kaleidoscope
of shadows I mean his shadows have shadows
and they are small and trailing behind him and I know
then that everyone he loves is also not here and the man doesn’t ask
but I still say hey man I’ve got nothing I’ve got nothing even though I have plenty
to go home to and the sun is still hot even in its
endless flirt with submission and the man’s palm has a small
river inside I mean he has taken my hand now and here we are
tethered and unmoving and the man says what color are you making
the sky and I say what I might say in a poem I say all surrender
ends in blood and he says what color are you making the sky and
I say something bright enough to make people wish they were here
and he squints towards the dancing shrapnel of dying
light along a rooftop and he says I love things only as they are
and I’m sure I did once too but I can’t prove it to anyone these days
and he says the end isn’t always about what dies and I know I know
or I knew once and now I write about beautiful things
like I will never touch a beautiful thing again and the man
looks me in the eyes and he points to the blue-orange vault
over heaven’s gates and he says the face of everyone you miss
is up there and I know I know I can’t see them but I know
and he turns my face to the horizon and he says
we don’t have much time left and I get that he means the time
before the sun is finally through with its daily work or I
think I get that but I still can’t stop trembling and I close
my eyes and I am sobbing on the corner of church and
lincoln and when I open my eyes the sun is plucking everyone
who has chosen to love me from the clouds and carrying them
into the light-drunk horizon and I am seeing this and I know
I am seeing this the girl who kissed me as a boy in the dairy aisle
of meijer while our parents shopped and the older boy on the
basketball team who taught me how to make a good fist and swing
it into the jaw of a bully and the friends who crawled to my porch
in the summer of any year I have been alive they were all there
I saw their faces and it was like I was given the eyes of a newborn
again and once you know what it is to be lonely it is hard to
unsee that which serves as a reminder that you were not always
empty and I am gasping into the now-dark air and I pull my shirt
up to wipe whatever tears are left and I see the man walking in the
other direction and I chase him down and tap his arm and I say did
you see it did you see it like I did and he turns and leans into the
glow of a streetlamp and he is anchored by a single shadow now
and he sneers and he says have we met and he scoffs and pushes
his cart off into the night and I can hear the glass rattling even
as I watch him become small and vanish and I look down at my
phone and the sky on the screen is still blood red.
Filth, filth, filth, from morning to night. I know they're poor but they could wash. Water is free and soap is cheap. Just look at that arm, nurse.'
The nurse looked and clucked in horror. Francie stood there with the hot flamepoints of shame burning her face. The doctor was a Harvard man, interning at the neighborhood hospital. Once a week, he was obliged to put in a few hours at one of the free clinics. He was going into a smart practice in Boston when his internship was over. Adopting the phraseology of the neighborhood, he referred to his Brooklyn internship as going through Purgatory, when he wrote to his socially prominent fiancee in Boston.
The nurse was as Williamsburg girl... The child of poor Polish immigrants, she had been ambitious, worked days in a sweatshop and gone to school at night. Somehow she had gotten her training... She didn't want anyone to know she had come from the slums.
After the doctor's outburst, Francie stood hanging her head. She was a dirty girl. That's what the doctor meant. He was talking more quietly now asking the nurse how that kind of people could survive; that it would be a better world if they were all sterilized and couldn't breed anymore. Did that mean he wanted her to die? Would he do something to make her die because her hands and arms were dirty from the mud pies?
She looked at the nurse... She thought the nurse might say something like:
Maybe this little girl's mother works and didn't have time to wash her good this morning,' or, 'You know how it is, Doctor, children will play in the dirt.' But what the nurse actuallly said was, 'I know, Isn't it terrible? I sympathize with you, Doctor. There is no excuse for these people living in filth.'
A person who pulls himself up from a low environment via the bootstrap route has two choices. Having risen above his environment, he can forget it; or, he can rise above it and never forget it and keep compassion and understanding in his heart for those he has left behind him in the cruel upclimb. The nurse had chosen the forgetting way. Yet, as she stood there, she knew that years later she would be haunted by the sorrow in the face of that starveling child and that she would wish bitterly that she had said a comforting word then and done something towards the saving of her immortal soul. She had the knowledge that she was small but she lacked the courage to be otherwise.
When the needle jabbed, Francie never felt it. The waves of hurt started by the doctor's words were racking her body and drove out all other feeling. While the nurse was expertly tying a strip of gauze around her arm and the doctor was putting his instrument in the sterilizer and taking out a fresh needle, Francie spoke up.
My brother is next. His arm is just as dirty as mine so don't be suprised. And you don't have to tell him. You told me.' They stared at this bit of humanity who had become so strangely articulate. Francie's voice went ragged with a sob. 'You don't have to tell him. Besides it won't do no godd. He's a boy and he don't care if he is dirty.'... As the door closed, she heard the doctor's suprised voice.
I had no idea she'd understand what I was saying.' She heard the nurse say, 'Oh, well,' on a sighing note.
Betty Smith (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn)
FatherMichael has entered the room
Wildflower: Ah don’t tell me you’re through a divorce yourself Father?
SureOne: Don’t be silly Wildflower, have a bit of respect! He’s here for the ceremony.
Wildflower: I know that. I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere.
FatherMichael: So have the loving couple arrived yet?
SureOne: No but it’s customary for the bride to be late.
FatherMichael: Well is the groom here?
SingleSam has entered the room
Wildflower: Here he is now. Hello there SingleSam. I think this is the first time ever that both the bride and groom will have to change their names.
SingleSam: Hello all.
Buttercup: Where’s the bride?
LonelyLady: Probably fixing her makeup.
Wildflower: Oh don’t be silly. No one can even see her.
LonelyLady: SingleSam can see her.
SureOne: She’s not doing her makeup; she’s supposed to keep the groom waiting.
SingleSam: No she’s right here on the laptop beside me. She’s just having problems with her password logging in.
SureOne: Doomed from the start.
Divorced_1 has entered the room
Wildflower: Wahoo! Here comes the bride, all dressed in . . .
Wildflower: How charming.
Buttercup: She’s right to wear black.
Divorced_1: What’s wrong with misery guts today?
LonelyLady: She found a letter from Alex that was written 12 years ago proclaiming his love for her and she doesn’t know what to do.
Divorced_1: Here’s a word of advice. Get over it, he’s married. Now let’s focus the attention on me for a change.
SoOverHim has entered the room
FatherMichael: OK let’s begin. We are gathered here online today to witness the marriage of SingleSam (soon to be “Sam”) and Divorced_1 (soon to be “Married_1”).
SoOverHim: WHAT?? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?
THIS IS A MARRIAGE CEREMONY IN A DIVORCED PEOPLE CHAT ROOM??
Wildflower: Uh-oh, looks like we got ourselves a gate crasher here. Excuse me can we see your wedding invite please?
Divorced_1: Ha ha.
SoOverHim: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY? YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK, COMING IN HERE AND TRYING TO
UPSET OTHERS WHO ARE GENUINELY TROUBLED.
Buttercup: Oh we are genuinely troubled alright. And could you please STOP SHOUTING.
LonelyLady: You see SoOverHim, this is where SingleSam and Divorced_1 met for the first time.
SoOverHim: OH I HAVE SEEN IT ALL NOW!
SoOverHim: Sorry. Mind if I stick around?
Divorced_1: Sure grab a pew; just don’t trip over my train.
Wildflower: Ha ha.
FatherMichael: OK we should get on with this; I don’t want to be late for my 2 o’clock. First I have to ask, is there anyone in here who thinks there is any reason why these two should not be married?
SureOne: I could give more than one reason.
Buttercup: Hell yes.
SoOverHim: DON’T DO IT!
FatherMichael: Well I’m afraid this has put me in a very tricky predicament.
Divorced_1: Father we are in a divorced chat room, of course they all object to marriage. Can we get on with it?
FatherMichael: Certainly. Do you Sam take Penelope to be your lawful wedded wife?
SingleSam: I do.
FatherMichael: Do you Penelope take Sam to be your lawful wedded husband?
Divorced_1: I do (yeah, yeah my name is Penelope).
FatherMichael: You have already e-mailed your vows to me so by the online power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride. Now if the witnesses could click on the icon to the right of the screen they will find a form to type their names, addresses, and phone numbers. Once that’s filled in just e-mail it off to me. I’ll be off now. Congratulations again.
FatherMichael has left the room
Wildflower: Congrats Sam and Penelope!
Divorced_1: Thanks girls for being here.
SoOverHim has left the room
Cecelia Ahern (Love, Rosie)
As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with flirtations, a kiss, an embrace, an off-color joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other one, which is much purer, deeper and finer. No one knows Anne’s better side, and that’s why most people can’t stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that everyone’s had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I’m what a romantic movie is to a profound thinker—a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either. I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn’t I admit it when I know it’s true? My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne—to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why. I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the “lighthearted” Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the “deeper” Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeared. So the nice Anne is never seen in company. She’s never made a single appearance, though she almost always takes the stage when I’m alone. I know exactly how I’d like to be, how I am … on the inside. But unfortunately I’m only like that with myself. And perhaps that’s why—no, I’m sure that’s the reason why—I think of myself as happy on the inside and other people think I’m happy on the outside. I’m guided by the pure Anne within, but on the outside I’m nothing but a frolicsome little goat tugging at its tether. As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn’t give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way. If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I’m always up against a more powerful enemy. A voice within me is sobbing, “You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.” Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up anymore, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if … if only there were no other people in the world. Yours, Anne M. Frank ANNE’S DIARY ENDS HERE.
Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)