The American Roommate Experiment Quotes

Rosalyn Graham, Will you be my best friend? My roommate. My Dancing Queen. My experiment life partner. My heart. Will you be mine, just like I'm completely, hopelessly yours?

I read you like you were my favorite book, Rosie. Like I’ve memorized you.

Remember to pick the boy that will pant a garden for you instead of just getting you the flowers.

I missed being in love with the idea of love, too.

Sometimes we keep things from those we love for reasons we don’t even understand ourselves.

Everything I didn't believe of myself, everything I couldn't possibly think you saw in me, was there. I saw myself through your eyes. You loved me.

Rosie: you’re supposed to side with me. Lucas: I’ll always be on your side.

Some days, I found excuses to touch her. I'd tell her she had something in her hair. Or that I'd thought there had been something clinging to her clothes. Sometimes, I reached for her and didn't come up with an excuse in time so I just smiled at her like a total idiot, and hoped for the best.

Open your eyes, preciosa.

I've waited enough. I've waited a lifetime without me knowing. So why don't you open this door and let me show you?

To those waiting on love, be patient. Love is a total drama queen. It’s just waiting to make an entrance.

Life was too short, too brittle, to keep secrets and live in half-truths. Even when we thought that we were protecting those we loved. Or protecting ourselves. Our hearts. Because the reality was that without honesty, without truth, we never lived fully.

Mamá had taught me better than to leave things hanging over my head. Ignoring and waiting for them to go away on their own wasn’t the smart thing to do. Because they didn’t. Sooner or later—and just when you least expected them to—they’d fall off right on top of you, and chances were, they’d take you down with them if you let them.

She used to tell me how the moment I was born, she knew she had found her light in the dark. That one lighthouse that, no matter what, was always up. Lighting up the night and signaling her way home.

Lina me va a cortar las pelotas.

There’s no such thing as silly when it comes to dreams. No matter how new or old they are.

Dear God. The amount of information one could learn from someone’s socials when one looked long and frequently enough was terrifying.

First impressions were like words penned with permanent ink. Once etched on paper, there was little one could do to change them.

It’s not about forgetting, but about forgiving yourself and putting in the work to be better. And I tried every day to do that. I’d also learned to live with who I was today without resenting what I’d lost. And I sure as hell knew what I wanted in my future.

God, I loved him. I had fallen in love with Lucas Martín.

Sometimes, when we're in pain, we need to come to the realization on our own that we need help. Before we can ever accept it.

That slow grin broke free, making me a little weak in the knees. Inevitably, I matched him with one of my own. “There it is,” he said, his fingers still on my chin and his eyes dipping down to my lips. “Deslumbrante. Como el mismo sol.

Because as much as touching Lucas usually left every cell in my body tingling, I was beginning to understand that touching someone you loved was about much more than just that. It wasn’t always about the sparks and the fireworks. Not exclusively. It could also be about the peace it brought you. The comfort. And for all the romances I’d read and the one, almost two, I’d written, I hadn’t known that. I would have never imagined that touching a man could light me up inside and quiet every worry and every noise in the world.

This is not a one-way street, Rosie. You look after me and I look after you. We take care of each other. We're a team.

It’s not smart to pretend everything’s okay when it isn’t. When you bottle something up so tightly, the lid will blow up. Sooner rather than later.

That was… intense. And a little heartbreaking.” “But that’s life for you. Intense and heartbreaking.

I’m crying because we’re just friends, because none of this is real.

And I imagined this, his hug, his body, him, being my safe-heaven. My normal. My bad days, my good days. My every day...

She took me back. Eventually,” he said, stepping closer to my side, leaning forward until the side of his face lined with mine. “But I don’t go around putting on an apron for just anybody.

You like it when I speak in Spanish to you.” Yes. Obviously. “I guess I do.” “I can say it again for you, would you like that?” he offered, and then, instead of waiting for my answer—Yes please, sir, and can you record it, too, so I can play it for years to come?

Millennials: We lost the genetic lottery. We graduated high school into terrorist attacks and wars. We graduated college into a recession and mounds of debt. We will never acquire the financial cushion, employment stability, and material possessions of our parents. We are often more educated, experienced, informed, and digitally fluent than prior generations, yet are constantly haunted by the trauma of coming of age during the detonation of the societal structure we were born into. But perhaps we are overlooking the silver lining. We will have less money to buy the material possessions that entrap us. We will have more compassion and empathy because our struggles have taught us that even the most privileged can fall from grace. We will have the courage to pursue our dreams because we have absolutely nothing to lose. We will experience the world through backpacking, couch surfing, and carrying on interesting conversations with adventurers in hostels because our bank accounts can't supply the Americanized resorts. Our hardships will obligate us to develop spiritual and intellectual substance. Maybe having roommates and buying our clothes at thrift stores isn't so horrible as long as we are making a point to pursue genuine happiness.

Tontos son los que hacen tonterías. Stupid people are those that do stupid stuff.

Remember to pick the boy that will plant a garden for you instead of just getting you the flowers, Bean.

Lucas and Rosie’s Soundtrack.

my safe haven. My normal. My bad days, my good days. My every day.

Rosie,” he half said, half slurred in a husky voice. “This really you or I did I wake up in heaven?

Cronut you,

Of course, I'm scared," Dad had answered. "I'm terrified for you. I will always be, Bean. But that's part of loving someone. You want them to thrive, to succeed, to accomplish any dream they reach for, but you also want to protect them. To soften any blow that might come. But I'd never be disappointed in you." He had paused and then added, "And I'll always make an effort to understand, Bean.

Rosie,” he said in a low, warning voice that made my stomach flop for some reason. “Take the bed.” He smiled, but it wasn’t lighthearted and fun. “Don’t make me fight you over this. Because I will.” How? That part of me that had my stomach flip-flopping wanted to ask him. How would you fight me exactly?

There's nothing wrong', she repeated, right before the dam broke. 'There's a freaking hole in the ceiling of my apartment; these stupid repairs are going to take a much longer time than I though; I'm inconveniencing you because I have been lying to my dad for months and I can't stay with him; I'm pretty sure my brother is in some king of weird business and I have less than eight weeks left until I have to hand in a manuscript that's nowhere near where it should be because I'm stuck. I can't write, Lucas! And now you are, witnessing the complete and utter mess that is my life. Oh, and to make everything even better, I've been craving Cronuts ever since I got my period this morning and when we leave here it will be too late to get them because Holy Cronut will be closed!

I wasn’t surprised that she’d fallen asleep last night. In fact, I was shocked it hadn’t happened until the fourth or fifth episode of that vampire show she knew by heart. As much as we both had fought to stay awake—her because she had every intention of leaving, and me, because, damn, that show was laced with crack—we’d dozed off.

He came forward, getting close, really close. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "This is not a one-way street, Rosie. You look after me and I look after you. We take care of each other. We're a team." "A team". I sighed, my eyelids falling closed.

Дотики до коханої людини- це набагато більше, ніж просто дотики

Життя надто коротке, надто крихке, щоб зберігати секрети і жити напівправдою.

I’d read it, too. I had it memorized by now.

He'll realize on his own how isolating secrets can be." "Time was working against me, now. Everything was. And perhaps, it had always been.

Remember Lucas? Your cousin. The one whose Instagram profile you showed me what feels like an eternity ago? Well, I’ve been… checking it out. A few times. More than just a few times. Something like every day? It’s hard to explain but think… Joe Goldberg. Minus the murders.

I missed being in love with the idea of love, too.

Open your eyes, preciosa.

Some days, I found excuses to touch her. I’d tell her she had something in her hair. Or that I’d thought there had been something clinging to her clothes.

A volte teniamo nascoste delle cose a chi amiamo per dei motivi che nemmeno noi comprendiamo fino in fondo.

He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve shared a meal with someone. Traveling alone has its perks but it can also get a little lonely. I think I was beginning to feel that way. Until this morning.” He met my gaze. “And now.

Being used by beautiful women is something I don’t mind in the slightest.

Nope.” I shook my head. “Just resting my eyes for a second. It’s like a night routine. I always do it for a few seconds every day.” I waited one, two, three beats and then added as I sprung off the couch, “Okay, done!

Lucas thought about it for a few moments, then waved his pastry-holding hand. “Cronut you. How about that?

Come here and take pity on me, woman.” He held both hands in the air, looking at his palms. “Fix me up, before I end up completely covered in it.” “But you look soooo cute.

Soothing, healing, intentional—because Lucas hugged like he meant it.

Ah shit,” I said under my breath, looking down at my empty mug and the borrowed bills. “Lina me va a cortar las pelotas.

Do you think you can give me one, though? Maybe I’m the one who needs it.

It felt like someone had pulled me apart. Disassembled me and left all the parts scattered around. Too dispersed for me to attempt to piece anything back together.

Shall I remind you that we - as friends - Should hate each other's enemies an nemeses? Do you need me to print a copy of the best-friend code for you?

myself

Will you be mine, just like I'm completely, hopelessly yours?

But romance—big, grand gestures—should be about something personal. Well thought out,

Cronut you, Lucas.

I promise I will not fall in love with you and make things awkward, Rosalyn Sage.

Deslumbrante. Como el mismo sol.

When you bottle something up so tightly, the lid will blow up.

A pang of jealousy surged through me. The good kind. The kind of longing that made me wonder if I´d ever find what they had. Ironically, this had been the kind of longing that had pushed me to flirt with the idea of writing all that time ago. To bring to life the kind of love that never seemed to happen for me.

Cronut you.

There’s no such thing as silly when it comes to dreams. No matter how new or old they are.