Re Rack Weights Quotes

Honestly kiddo? You’re beautiful. You use your weight as an excuse but you’re just all woman. Not every woman has to look like a stripper. Or a model. Or Megan Fox. You’re petite, have a tiny waist, a fantastic rack, a devastating ass…what the hell more do you want? You should know it. Everyone else knows it…that’s why you’re getting all these asinine comments. Can’t you just see that it’s just jealously that’s ripping these people apart?

Here he comes,” Blake said. When Kaidan climbed the steps to the deck he came straight for me, his hair slicked back with sweat from running. He took my face in his hands, breathing hard, lips tight, eyes like blue blazes. “Don’t ever do that again,” he ground out. It took a second to process his words and remember what exactly I wasn’t supposed to do again. Then I recalled interfering. “I know it was dangerous,” I admitted, “but there were five of them—” “I can bloody well handle myself, Anna!” His hands flung away from my face. “Maybe if there were only a couple, but there were five pissed-off psychos with weapons! I couldn’t just stand there and watch!” Kaidan, exasperated, pivoted like he was going to walk away, raked his fingers through his hair, and turned to me again. “What did you think you could do?” he asked. “You got in a lucky shot when you racked him, but what if it hadn’t worked? As you saw today your mind powers don’t always work!” Ah. He had no idea what I was capable of now. I held a hand out. “Give me your knife.” His eyebrows went together. “What?” “Just give it to me.” I stepped closer, feeling edgy. “No, Anna, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this is ridic—” My movements were fast as I went for him full force, using all my body weight and strength to hook a foot behind his knee and slam my palm into his shoulder. He landed on his back with a surprised oof and I crouched over him. “Give me your knife,” I said again. “Holy . . .” Blake let out a long whistle from where he watched at the rail. Kaidan lay there with a whimsical sort of look and said, “God, that was hot.” I held out my hand. This time he fished the knife from his waistband and placed the onyx handle in my palm. From my crouched position I momentarily eyed a wooden bird statue perched at the top of the deck rail twenty feet away, then let the cool metal fly from my fingers. It spun through the air with a sound like rapid wing beats, then a whump as it stuck into the side of the bird’s head. “Dude!” Blake yelled. Beneath me, where Kaidan lay, burst a vivid cloud of red so brief I wondered if I’d imagined it. I stared down at him in shock. “You showed your colors!” I said. “Did not.” He pushed himself up and we both stood. “You totally let ’em out, brah,” Blake told him with a grin. “Shut up.” When he peered down at me I said, “I’ve been training. I’m not completely helpless anymore.” “I can see that,” he murmured.

Nick made himself release his grip on the timber. He swung free for one terrifying moment. He felt Sayer’s grip tighten to a crushing vise and a mighty tug upward as the runner hauled him just far enough to balance his weight on top of the crackling wood. “Move forward,” Sayer muttered, retaining his hold on Nick’s arm, and together they maneuvered away from the perilous fall. When they had both retreated from the beam and found the safety of some relatively sound planking, they collapsed side by side, gasping violently. “Damn,” Sayer rasped when he had sufficient breath to speak, “you’re a heavy bastard, Sydney.” Disoriented, his body racked with pain, Nick tried to make himself comprehend that he was still alive. He drew his sleeve over his sweat-soaked brow and found that his arm was cramping and shaking, the abused muscles going berserk. Sayer sat up and regarded him with clear anxiety. “It looks like you’ve strained some muscles. And your hand looks like it’s been pushed through a sieve.” But he was alive. It was too miraculous to believe. Nick had gotten a reprieve he didn’t deserve, and by all that was holy, he was going to take advantage of it. As he thought of Lottie, he was seized with dark longing. “Sayer,” he managed to say hoarsely, “I’ve just decided something.” “Oh?” “From now on, you’ll have to find your own fucking way around Fleet Ditch.” -Sayer & Nick

I want you to know that I see your face when someone parks over the line in a crowded parking lot and inadvertently wastes a whole second spot, and I know your scowl isn’t really about the parking space. When you stop to pick up trash on a sidewalk or put the to-go menus back in their rack at the sandwich shop, you wish you didn’t have to. You’d rather everyone else pull their weight, but if they won’t, you will. You like having work to do, but it’s hard for you to work alongside people who cut corners and blow off responsibilities. It feels like they’re doing these things to spite you, like they slack off because they know you’ll catch whatever balls they drop. You can’t fathom how they can feel okay letting so many things remain half done. This leaves you in a constant state of simmering, low-grade resentment, and you feel guilty about occasionally having the urge to throw your laptop at someone’s face. You wish these things didn’t get to you. You want to live and let live.

It’s ok, man,” I said with amusement. “You know what they say, it’s not the size of the wave, it’s the motion of the ocean.” He stood up and started re-racking the weights for the next person. “Oh, but when you have a giant wave that moves just right . . . it’s the best feeling your woman can ever have,” he said, his eyebrows waggling up and down.