The Score Elle Kennedy Quotes

Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.

I do what I want, when I want. And I don’t give a shit what people think about me.

Garrett: Allie's gonna crash in my room. Garrett: Your dick can stay in your room.

All my senses are filled with her—her sounds, her smell, her touch. Her.

Life hack: if you don’t want someone asking you questions, say the word tampon, and the conversation ends.

You're lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me --" "You love me? You just said it." "I ... Well, damn. I guess I did." "Did you mean it? I want to hear it again." "Aw shit, babe. Don't make me say it again. It's bad enough I said it first.

Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.” “Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.

You know, I don’t think we’re dealing with a Bella’s-magical-blood situation here.” “No?” “No. I think you’ve imprinted on this girl’s pussy.” … “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re facing a Jacob quandary. You imprinted on her pussy, and now it’s the only pussy you can think about. You exist solely for this pussy. Like Jacob and that weird mutant baby.

I think it takes a certain level of trust to sit next to someone and not feel the pressing urge to babble away.

He looks at the bathtub, where I’m lounging like Cleo-fucking-patra.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for.

Hey, Heaven? Dean Di Laurentis here. Thanks for letting me visit.

I’m not ready to be with anyone else yet.” “Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.

I glare at my sister with enough force to make her wince. “Not one word out of you,” I snap. “And don’t think I didn’t feel you kick me right before I passed out. Who does that, Summer? Who kicks a man when he’s down?” From the corner of my eye, I see Tucker sink to the floor. He buries his face in his hands, shaking with laughter.

I told you, my dad made sure I knew self-defense.” “Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.

Relationships are a fucking pain in the ass sometimes.

See, if you take away my dick privileges, I’ll be fine for months. Years, even. But if I take away your pussy privileges? You’ll be utterly lost. Like a drowning man at sea, desperately grabbing for the vagina preserver.” She beams. “Therefore, vagina trumps penis.

Not only did I seduce him, but I tied him up and rode him like he was my own personal amusement park ride.

Dean Di Laurentis is in my blood now. I didn’t expect the intense sexual chemistry between us, but it’s here, and it’s addictive, and I don’t know how I can ever give it up.

You know Twilight?” He blinks. “Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?

Get over yourself,” I mutter. “I'd be wet if any guy was rubbing up against me.” “Bull. Fucking. Shit.” His thumb brushes my clit. I almost fall over. “It's me. You want me.

Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?

I’m adorable, first off. My sense of humor is stellar—obvs.” “Obvs,” she echoes dryly. “I’m extraordinarily skilled in the art of conversation.” She nods. “When it’s about yourself, of course.” “Of course.” I pretend to think it over some more. “Oh, and I’m a mind reader. No lie. I always know what the other person is thinking.” “Yeah? What am I thinking right now?” Allie challenges. “That you want me to shut up and fuck you again.” She shakes her head in dismay. “Goddamn it. That’s actually what I was thinking.” I smirk at her and tap my forehead. “Told ya. Mind reader.

Okay, so here’s our plan for tonight. First we’ll bone down to take the edge off. Then we’ll order a pizza and replenish our energy, and after that, round two. Sound good?” … “Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist about your delusions?” I ask politely. “Because, sweetie, there's no chance in hell of us boning tonight.” “Fine. How about we go down on each other instead?” “How about you leave?” “Counter offer - I stay and we dry hump.

I’m a card-carrying member of Team Boyfriend, and after last night, I can honestly say that Team One-Night-Stand sucks balls.

She’s probably ovaries-deep in a carton of Ben and Jerry’s right now while Mumford & Sons plays in the background.

I mean you’re facing a Jacob quandary. You imprinted on her pussy, and now it’s the only pussy you can think about. You exist solely for this pussy. Like Jacob and that weird mutant baby.

surprised his head doesn’t spin and his eyeballs don’t bug out. “Um.” His gaze bounces around the bathroom like a rubber ball. He looks at the towel rack, where his cargo pants are hanging. He looks at the bathtub, where I’m lounging like Cleo-fucking-patra. He looks at the bubbles surrounding my body like a fluffy white cloud. And then he looks at Winston. “Dude,” I blurt out. “It’s not what it looks like.” “Nope, nope, nope, I don’t want to know!

Whatcha making?” I call out to Tucker. “Soup,” he calls back. “And baking some bread.” I sigh. “Sometimes I worry about him,” I tell Allie. “The more domestic he gets, the bigger the risk of his penis falling off.” She tsks in disapproval. “Sexist bastard.” “I think you mean sexy bastard,” I say helpfully. “No, I got it right the first time.

Sowing oats is fun,” he agrees solemnly. “One time I sowed this really hot oat who poured maple syrup all over my dick and then licked it off.

I was a perfect gentlemen." Logan snorts. "Well, that's a first." "Fuck you very much. I happen to be skilled in the art of gentlemanry." "That's not an art. Or a work." Logan rolls his eyes.

I know women. And when they clam up like this? They’re not just working one thought over in their brains. Nope, they’re constructing a complicated web of scenarios and what ifs, each thread layering over another, thickening and twisting until suddenly they’re mad about something that never even occurred to you.

You want me to call Dean.” “Yes.” “Dean Di Laurentis?” “Yes.” I lick my dry lips, which are salty from my tears. Tears that won’t fucking stop falling. “Please…just call him. I…” I feel my entire face collapsing again. “I need him.

There's just one move a man needs to know in order to rock it on the dance floor." "Yeah? What's the move?" "STAG" "What's stag?" "The only one of Logan's crazy acronyms I live my life by-STAG. Stand there and grind.

Yeah. Go ahead and pick something to watch,” he answers. “I’m just popping upstairs to jerk it and then I’ll join you.” “Okay, I think I’m in the mood for—wait, what?

My face? Turn-on. Chest? Turn-on. I’d roll over and show you my ass, but we both know the answer will be ‘turn-on’ so I’ll skip that one. Dick? Turn the fuck on. And then we get to the non-physical awesomeness that is Dean.

I am perfect. I need to remind myself of that more often." I snort. "Right. Because you're not conceited enough." "I'm confident," he corrects.

I will do anything that woman asks. I'd sell my soul to the devil himself if Allie told me to do it.

Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?

Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.

- “Because you also look at him like he hung the moon. And I get the sense he feels the same about you.

Awww, look at him, G, he’s so precious when he’s sleeping.” “Like an angel.” “A really slutty angel.” “Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.” “Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.

You’re giving me a lot of responsibility here, baby doll. I don’t like responsibility.” Shocker. “You can handle this, baby doll. I have faith in you.

You hid behind the door? Really?” She steps forward sheepishly. “I’m sorry.” “You can shove your sorries in a sack, baby

There are five unread messages on the screen, which is what happens when you’re the meat in a hot girl sandwich. Threesomes trump checking your phone. That’s a no-brainer. Logan: Hey, bro, Wellsy’s friend Allie is crashing at our place this weekend. Logan: Keep your dick in your pants. G and I aren’t in the mood to beat u senseless if u try something. Wellsy might be in the mood for violence, tho. So: dick = pants = don’t bother our guest. Hannah: Allie’s staying with u guys til Sunday. She’s in a vulnerable place right now. Don’t take advantage of her or else I’ll be unhappy. And u don’t want to make me unhappy, do u? I snicker. Hannah, diplomatic as always. I quickly scan the last two messages. Garrett: Allie’s gonna crash in my room. Garrett: Your dick can stay in your room. Jeez, what is everybody’s fascination with my dick?

Fuck, I love sex. I don’t care if men and women were created by God or evolution or little green Martians. I’m just eternally grateful that someone gave us dicks and

No. I think you’ve imprinted on this girl’s pussy.

I think it takes a certain level of trust to sit next to someone and not feel the pressing urge to babble away. My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them.

I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” “How did he look at me?” Allie asks warily. “Like you were his entire world.” She frowns. “And that’s a bad thing?” “Damn right it is. Nobody should ever be someone else’s entire world. That’s not healthy, AJ. If your whole life is centered on one thing—one person—whatcha going to be left with if that person goes away? Absolutely nothing.” He gruffly reiterates, “Not healthy.

Fine. How about we go down on each other instead?” “How about you leave?” “Counter offer—I stay and we dry hump.

Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit?

My cock tents in my pants and nudges the porcelain, needing to make contact with something, anything.

Ugh. You even have perfect nipples," I gripe. His lips twitch. "Do you wanna touch em?

Maybe it's time to stop scoring...and shoot for love.

dorm. She’s probably ovaries-deep in a carton of Ben and Jerry’s right now while Mumford & Sons plays in the background.

You have ten minutes,” he told me. “Ten minutes to think about what you did wrong and how bad you feel right now. Are you ready?” He’d actually clicked a button on his watch and timed me, and for those ten minutes I brooded and sulked and wallowed in humiliation. I remembered the errors I’d made on the field and corrected them in my head. I imagined punching every player on the opposing team square in the mouth. And then Dad told me my time was up. “There. It’s over now,” he said. “Now you look forward and figure out how you’re going to get better.

He looks at the bathtub, where I'm lounging like Cleo-fuck-ing-patra. He looks at the bubbles surrounding my body like a fluffy white clod. And then he looks at Winston. "Dude," I blurt out. "It's not what it looks like!" "Nope, nope, nope, I don't want to know!" Snatches his pants off the rack. Continues backing away. His eyes again focus on the pink dildo two inches from my hand. I try again. "I promise you, it's not --" "I don't want to know.

You’re avoiding me.” I glance over. “Just a bit.” “A bit? There aren’t degrees of avoidance, Dean. You’re either avoiding someone, or you aren’t.” “Not true. Sometimes there’re extenuating circumstances. Unexpected variables.

Hunter scored a total beauty in the third,” Hollis says from his stool. “I almost came in my pants.” “Don’t be crude in front of the baby,” I say immediately. “Bro, you brought a baby to a bar. Go throw glass stones in your own house.” When everyone snickers, Hollis is visibly confused. “What?” “That’s not the phrase,” Hannah says helpfully. “Sure it is.” “It’s really not.” Hollis waves a hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.

Squish. That’s the noise my heart makes. Because it’s so fucking full of love it can no longer contain it all.

A moment later, Garrett Graham’s deep voice comes on the line. “Clean sheets are in the linen closet, and you might want to bring your own pillow. Wellsy thinks mine are too soft.” “They are too soft,” Hannah protests. “It’s like sleeping on a soggy marshmallow.” “It’s like sleeping on a fluffy cloud,” Garrett corrects. “Trust me, Allie, my pillows rock. But you should still bring your own, just in case.

Please, baby, I’ve been such a good boy… I’ve waited a whole week for this. Don’t I deserve a reward for my patience?” I rub the side of her neck with my lips. “I’ve been—” I kiss her jaw “such—” I kiss my way up to her mouth “—a good boy.

My phone rings, and I groan in relief. “Oh thank Jesus. Hopefully whoever this is will save me before you break my dick.” Turns out my savior is Beau, and I pick up with my usual, “What’s shaking, Maxwell?

Me: u + me = wild animal sex 2nite? She responds right away. Good, she’s still up. Her: u = tempting – me = already in bed ÷ sleep. Me: Why the division sign?? Her: I don’t know. I was trying to answer in math. Bottom line: I’m in bed. Me: Perfect. That’s right where I want u to be. I’ll be there in 45.

Hey. You know Twilight?” He blinks. “Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?” “Are you f*cking with me right now?” I ignore that. “Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit? Or is there actually a biological reason why we’re drawn to certain people? Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?” “Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?

Edward wants her on a biological level, right?" "Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?" God, I am. This is what Allie has reduced me to. A sad, pathetic loser who goes to a bar and forces his friend to to participate in a Twilight book club.

She studies my face as if she is playing Where’s Waldo, except she’s hunting for a lie instead of a weirdo in a hat.

You're lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl done this to me- you love me?

Does your father-in-law pay you to be his hype man? Or you do it for free to score approval points?

There’s a beat, and then Garrett surprises me by hauling me in for a hug. Not a macho side hug or quick chest bump, but a real hug, with both his arms around me, gripping me tight. I hug him back. “I’m sorry, man. About the house. The drinking. Just everything.” “I know,” he says for the third time. A door creaks open. “Is this a private homoerotic moment? Or can anyone join in?” I laugh weakly as Logan lumbers toward us. Garrett releases me, and Logan takes his place. His hug is briefer, but no less comforting.

I thought you said you didn’t want to salsa dance. And Dean Di Laurentis only does what he wants, remember?” He shrugs. “I am doing what I want.” My eyebrows knit together as I wait for him to clarify. “I’m making you happy.

Allie.” Dean leans forward and fixes me with an eerily somber stare. “This show is fucking stupid.” “I know,” I say sheepishly. “But it’s addictive. Trust me, one episode of this crap and you’ll be hooked.” “Sorry, baby doll, but I can pretty much guarantee that’s not gonna happen.” * Dean It happened. God help me. I’m into this show. I came over tonight with the single-minded purpose of working the charm and convincing Allie to get naked with me again. Instead, I’m sipping on a margarita, I’ve just watched two hours’ worth of a French soap opera, and now I’m texting Logan to let him know I won’t make it to Malone’s. Because…God help me…I want to know what happens next.

My phone buzzes, and I shut off YouTube so I can access my messages. Logan: Just found the perfect xmas present for you in Boston. A photo promptly appears, summoning a loud groan from my throat. The asshole sent me a pic of a novelty My Little Pony dildo. Damn thing is bright pink, with rainbow sparkles on the handle. Logan: And it’s rechargeable! U don’t have to buy batteries. THAT’S handy! Me: Hardy-har-har. You = comedian. Then I message Grace: Tell your BF to stop being mean to me. She texts back a smiley face. Traitor.

Did you seriously jerk off just now?” I demand. He nods as if it’s no biggie. “What, you think I can sit through a whole movie with blue balls?” I gawk at him. “So you can’t have sex with anyone while I’m in the house, but you can go upstairs and do that?” A wolfish grin stretches his mouth. “I could’ve done it down here, but then you would’ve been too tempted to take over for me. I was trying to be nice.” It’s hard not to roll my eyes. So I don’t bother fighting the urge. “Trust me, I would have kept my hands to myself.” “With my cock right there in the open? No way. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself.” He arches a brow. “I have a great cock.

Allie-Cat? Oh help me Rhonda. He’s given me a pet name.

You made one phone call and got your hands on an obscure French soap opera?” I stare at him. “Fuck. The Life of Dean is truly glorious.” “Told ya.

He purses his lips, and the sexual predator mustache he’s rocking bushes up.

At least we won the damn game.” “True. Our record still blows, though.” “It’s a fucking bummer, man. My Hurricanes have a better record, and they’re frickin’ middle-schoolers.” “Your Hurricanes?” He grins. “Dude, admit it. You’re in love with those kidlets.” “Fuck off. I just have fun coaching—” “You both need to go!” Wellsy announces, a mix of annoyance and exasperation on her face.

Who am I to decide what someone should or shouldn’t do? People skip funerals and memorials all the time, for all sorts of reasons. Maybe they want to grieve for their loved ones in private. Maybe it’s too hard for them. Maybe they just don’t believe in funerals. It’s not my place to judge

He looks way too comfortable sitting there on my couch. A blond Adonis with his golden chest and sculpted muscles and perfectly chiseled face. If the hockey thing doesn’t work out for him, he ought to consider going into modeling. Dean Di Laurentis oozes sexuality. He could slap his face on a laxative label and every woman in the world would be praying for constipation just to have an excuse to buy it.

Yeah…I need to nip this Dean idea in the bud. I don’t know why he’s so eager to jump into bed with me again, but I’m confident he’ll get over it eventually. The guy has the attention span of a fruit fly, and the affection-giving habits of a puppy, offering his sexual devotion to whoever happens to be holding the treat. By which I mean the vagina.

If your whole life is centered on one thing—one person—whatcha going to be left with if that person goes away? Absolutely nothing.

God,

I'd follow Dean Di Laurentis to the ends of the earth. To the bowels of a volcano, if he asked me to be the Meg Ryan to his Tom Hanks. To fucking Mordor, if he asked me to be the Sam to his Frodo.

She studies the endless rows of titles on the bookshelf, then whirls toward me. “Okay. Admit it.” “Admit what?” She points an accusing finger at me. “You’re smart.” I snort loudly. “Of course I’m smart.” “You sure as hell don’t act like it.” Allie crosses her arms over the front of her loose striped sweater. “In fact, I feel like you go out of your way to make everyone believe you’re a dummy. With your ‘baby dolls’ and foul language and the way you throw ‘ain’t’ into a sentence every so often.” I flash her a grin. “Nope, that’s just how I fucking talk, baby doll. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

Awww, look at him, G, he’s so precious when he’s sleeping.” “Like an angel.” “A really slutty angel.” “Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.” “Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.” “Ah. Makes sense. Sort of like how whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” “Exactly like that.” I crank one eye open and direct it toward the doorway. “I can hear you, you know.” My annoyed voice puts an end to the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever heard. “Oh good, you’re up,” Logan says. “Of course I’m up,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep when you two fucktards are standing at the foot of my bed talking about angels blowing their loads?” Garrett snickers. “Like I’m the first one to ever wonder about that.” “Trust me, you are.

He looks at the bathtub, where I’m lounging like Cleo-fucking-patra. He looks at the bubbles surrounding my body like a fluffy white cloud. And then he looks at Winston. “Dude,” I blurt out. “It’s not what it looks like.” “Nope, nope, nope, I don’t want to know!” Logan throws his hands in the air and starts backing toward the door as if he accidentally walked into a lion’s den. He halts. Snatches his pants off the rack. Continues backing away. His eyes once again focus on the pink dildo two inches from my hand. I try again. “I promise you, it’s not—” “I don’t want to know.

Grams bailed on us—went on some seniors’ cruise instead of spending the holiday with her family. How dare she, right? That bitch.” Beau snickers, which I take as an indication that he’s joking. If not, I feel bad for his grandmother. “Joanna and I are in the city with our folks. Let’s meet up.

My roommates continue to lurk in the doorway. I find a pair of clean boxers and tug them on. “I swear to God, if you tell me you’ve been watching me sleep for the last hour like a bunch of creepers, I’m calling the cops.

And I guess my sister is on to something about her universe theory, because an hour after my call with Parklane Academy? Allie’s agent phoned with news that made her shriek so loud that Garrett heard her all the way from his shower and flew into my room buck-naked, armed with a hockey stick... we assured him everything was okay—and commented on how pretty his dick looked

I’m nervous about Beau Maxwell’s reaction to me and Dean showing up together, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Beau doesn’t even blink when Dean introduces me as “G’s GF’s BFF”. Maybe all the letters Dean threw out confused him? Either way, he just seems thrilled that we came out to the club at all.

Sighing, I turn to the girls. “Rain check?” Neither of them puts up much of a fight. Apparently Miss Allie didn’t just kill the mood, she scorched the fuckin’ earth and covered it with salt to prevent horniness from ever growing back.

You think I like this?” I say defensively. “Trust me, I don’t need this headache in my life.” I swallow a mouthful of beer. “Hey. You know Twilight?” He blinks. “Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?” “Are you fucking with me right now?” I ignore that. “Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit? Or is there actually a biological reason why we’re drawn to certain people? Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?” “Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?” God, I am. This is what Allie has reduced me to. A sad, pathetic loser who goes to a bar and forces his friend to participate in a Twilight book club.

Of course I’m up,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep when you two fucktards are standing at the foot of my bed talking about angels blowing their loads?” Garrett snickers. “Like I’m the first one to ever wonder about that.

It wasn’t Dean’s fault,” Allie insists. “Seriously, it’s all on me. I freaked out for no reason.” She finally looks over at me. “See? This is why I don’t like horror movies! You watch one scary movie when you’re a kid and suddenly everyone who comes to your door is a serial killer.” “Are you kidding me right now? You’ll watch a horror movie with my sister but not me? We have to watch the cancer movie?” “Dicky,” Summer chides. “You’re being grumpy.” I glare at my sister with enough force to make her wince. “Not one word out of you,” I snap. “And don’t think I didn’t feel you kick me right before I passed out. Who does that, Summer? Who kicks a man when he’s down?” From the corner of my eye, I see Tucker sink to the floor. He buries his face in his hands, shaking with laughter. The EMT blocks my line of sight by squatting in front of me. “I need to examine you for a concussion.” Oh for fuck’s sake.

I happen to be skilled in the art of gentlemanry.

Do you know how jealous I am right now? Do you think I like seeing every guy in the bar drooling over you? I want to rip their eyes out just for looking at you

Fuckity fuck.

No booze, no drugs, no brawling. Understood?

Well, either that or high.

See what a good girlfriend I am? I’m all about the compromises.” She grins. “This relationship rocks.” “Damn right it does.” I kiss her cheek, then suck in a breath when something occurs to me. “What is it?” she says in concern. I turn to her with even wider eyes. “Babe…are we boring?” Allie hoots. “Did you really just ask that?” “Yes, I fucking asked that.” I wave a hand around the room. “Look at us. It’s Friday night and we’re on the living room couch, talking about how great our relationship is. That’s the most boring thing we can be doing.” I sigh loudly. “Is this our life now? Doomed to stay in and cuddle every night? Is the excitement over?” “The excitement isn’t over,” she assures me. “Are you sure?

Seriously, though.” He gestures around the bar. “This place is full of women who’d sell their firstborn to go home with you. Pick one and sex this other chick right out of your head.” “My dick won’t let me,” I mutter. Beau snickers. “Can you repeat that, please?” “My dick is being difficult,” I explain irritably. “I tried to jerk off to porn last night, and swear to God, damn thing wouldn’t get hard. Then I thought of All—this girl,” I correct myself, because I promised Allie I wouldn’t tell anyone about our night together “—and bam” I snap my fingers. “Hard as a rock.” Beau eyes me thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think we’re dealing with a Bella’s-magical-blood situation here.” “No?” “No. I think you’ve imprinted on this girl’s pussy.

I poke myself in the eye. “Would you stop touching yourself?” I drop the mascara tube on the table and pick up a tissue to wipe the smear of black I just made at the inside corner of my eyelid because I can’t keep my fricking eyes off Dean. “What’s wrong, baby? You jealous? I was thinking of how hot you look.” He rolls to his side. “You make a little circle with your mouth when you put your eye makeup on. It’s basically begging me to stick my dick in there.” Nope, there’s nothing warm and squishy about my relationship with this guy. I shoot him a disbelieving glance. “We just got done having morning sex,” I remind him. I apply two quick swipes of the mascara before Dean’s hand can do more damage under the bed sheets. “That was thirty minutes ago. Since then, you’ve showered, waved your tits and bare ass in front of me getting dressed, and then made little blowjob circles with your mouth. So yeah, I’m horny again. Sue me.

The one and only time I demanded money from my dad, he turned around and donated my entire college fund to a charity for underprivileged kids. Then he made me clerk at his firm for the whole summer to earn it all back.

Oh yes, they do.” Allie addresses me like I’m a kindergartner. “See, if you take away my dick privileges, I’ll be fine for months. Years, even. But if I take away your pussy privileges? You’ll be utterly lost. Like a drowning man at sea, desperately grabbing for the vagina preserver.” She beams. “Therefore, vagina trumps penis.

I can’t remember the last time I got high. I don’t do it often, but honestly? If any night merits some weed-induced serenity, it’s this one. “Oh, fine. Give it to me.” I stick out my hand before I can second-guess myself.

Oooh, and I should check if Fletch is around.” “Fletch?” “Kyle Fletcher, but I call him Fletch,” she says absently. “Ex-boyfriend.” My head swivels toward her. “You’re making plans with your ex-boyfriend?” “Retract those claws, missy. Fletch is still a good friend of mine.” I can’t fight my curiosity. “How long were you together?” “Three years.” I whistle softly. “And then three and a half more with Sean…You’re a nester, huh?” “No, I’m not,” she protests. “Babe, that’s almost seven years of your life spent in a serious relationship. And you’re only twenty-two.” “Twenty-one. I’m a Christmas baby.” “For real? Your birthday’s the twenty-fifth?” “The twenty-fourth. I guess that makes me a Christmas Eve baby. Sorry.” “You better be sorry. How dare you mislead me like that?

You know my brother Robbie?” Dakota asks in a hushed voice. I snicker loudly. “No, kid, I don’t know Robbie. I just coach his team.” A sheepish flush blooms on her cheeks. “Oops. Right. That was a stupid question.” “Ya think?” Giggling, she says, “Anyway, you can’t tell anyone, but Robbie has a girlfriend!” I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah? And how do you know that? Are you spying on your big brother?” “No, he told me, dum-dum. Robbie tells me everything. Her name is Lacey and she’s in eighth grade.” Dakota shakes her head in amazement. “That’s a whole grade higher than him.” I stifle the laughter threatening to spill over. “Landed himself an older woman, huh? Good for Robbie.” Dakota lowers her voice to a whisper and proceeds to tell me every single detail about her brother’s eighth-grade girlfriend. I listen obligingly, all the while trying to pinpoint exactly when it was that hanging out with middle-schoolers became the highlight of my days.

I’m still lost in thought when my phone rings. I check the screen, and for a second I think it’s Dean calling, until I do a double take and realize it’s an S, not a D. Huh. My ex-boyfriend and my one-night-stand literally have the same name with one letter replaced. I wonder if that means something… Sean’s calling you, you idiot. Yeah, that’s probably the more pressing issue at the moment. My chest fills with anxiety. I shouldn’t pick up. I really, really shouldn’t pick up. I pick up.

I grin at her enthusiasm. “Did you like the little gun-finger I flashed you after that goal? All for you, baby.” She grins back. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for.” I break down in laughter. “Why is nothing ever simple with us?” “Hey,” she protests. “We’re more interesting this way.” I can’t argue with that.

What rhymes with insensitive?” I tap my pen on the kitchen table, beyond frustrated with my current task. Who knew rhyming was so fucking difficult? Garrett, who’s dicing onions at the counter, glances over. “Sensitive,” he says helpfully. “Yes, G, I’ll be sure to rhyme insensitive with sensitive. Gold star for you.” On the other side of the kitchen, Tucker finishes loading the dishwasher and turns to frown at me. “What the hell are you doing over there, anyway? You’ve been scribbling on that notepad for the past hour.” “I’m writing a love poem,” I answer without thinking. Then I slam my lips together, realizing what I’ve done. Dead silence crashes over the kitchen. Garrett and Tucker exchange a look. An extremely long look. Then, perfectly synchronized, their heads shift in my direction, and they stare at me as if I’ve just escaped from a mental institution. I may as well have. There’s no other reason for why I’m voluntarily writing poetry right now. And that’s not even the craziest item on Grace’s list. That’s right. I said it. List. The little brat texted me not one, not two, but six tasks to complete before she agrees to a date. Or maybe gestures is a better way to phrase it... “I just have one question,” Garrett starts. “Really?” Tuck says. “Because I have many.” Sighing, I put my pen down. “Go ahead. Get it out of your systems.” Garrett crosses his arms. “This is for a chick, right? Because if you’re doing it for funsies, then that’s just plain weird.” “It’s for Grace,” I reply through clenched teeth. My best friend nods solemnly. Then he keels over. Asshole. I scowl as he clutches his side, his broad back shuddering with each bellowing laugh. And even while racked with laughter, he manages to pull his phone from his pocket and start typing. “What are you doing?” I demand. “Texting Wellsy. She needs to know this.” “I hate you.” I’m so busy glaring at Garrett that I don’t notice what Tucker’s up to until it’s too late. He snatches the notepad from the table, studies it, and hoots loudly. “Holy shit. G, he rhymed jackass with Cutlass.” “Cutlass?” Garrett wheezes. “Like the sword?” “The car,” I mutter. “I was comparing her lips to this cherry-red Cutlass I fixed up when I was a kid. Drawing on my own experience, that kind of thing.” Tucker shakes his head in exasperation. “You should have compared them to cherries, dumbass.” He’s right. I should have. I’m a terrible poet and I do know it. “Hey,” I say as inspiration strikes. “What if I steal the words to “Amazing Grace”? I can change it to…um…Terrific Grace.” “Yup,” Garrett cracks. “Pure gold right there. Terrific Grace.” I ponder the next line. “How sweet…” “Your ass,” Tucker supplies. Garrett snorts. “Brilliant minds at work. Terrific Grace, how sweet your ass.” He types on his phone again. “Jesus Christ, will you quit dictating this conversation to Hannah?” I grumble. “Bros before hos, dude.” “Call my girlfriend a ho one more time and you won’t have a bro.” Tucker chuckles. “Seriously, why are you writing poetry for this chick?” “Because I’m trying to win her back. This is one of her requirements.” That gets Garrett’s attention. He perks up, phone poised in hand as he asks, “What are the other ones?” “None of your fucking business.” “Golly gee, if you do half as good a job on those as you’re doing with this epic poem, then you’ll get her back in no time!” I give him the finger. “Sarcasm not appreciated.” Then I swipe the notepad from Tuck’s hand and head for the doorway. “PS? Next time either of you need to score points with your ladies? Don’t ask me for help. Jackasses.” Their wild laughter follows me all the way upstairs. I duck into my room and kick the door shut, then spend the next hour typing up the sorriest excuse for poetry on my laptop. Jesus. I’m putting more effort into this damn poem than for my actual classes.

Hey. You know Twilight?” He blinks.“Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?” “Are you fucking with me right now?” I ignore that. “Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit? Or is there actually a biological reason why we’re drawn to certain people? Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?” “Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?

I settle back in my seat, gazing out the window as we cross the bridge toward New Jersey. I don’t know where the heck he’s taking me, but I’m happy to let him. I’d follow Dean Di Laurentis to the ends of the earth. To the bowels of a volcano, if he asked me to be the Meg Ryan to his Tom Hanks. To fucking Mordor, if he asked me to be the Sam to his Frodo. To— “We’re here,” he announces. I’m jolted out of the most ridiculous train of thought I’ve ever ridden.

She lifts her head at my entrance, and the desolate look in her big blue eyes shreds my heart to pieces. "Baby," I say softly.

My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them.

The last piece of advice my mom gave me before she died was to never give up on love.

Be nice to me, and I promise I'll be even nicer in return.

Do you ever take no as an answer?" "I'm not familiar with that word. Nobody's ever said it to me before.

all my senses are filled with her- her sounds, her smell, her touch. Her.

I might not want to get back together, but I hate knowing that I hurt someone I care about.

Another requirement in the Life of Dean. Say what you mean, mean what you say.

The worst thing about hope, though? More often than not, it leads to disappointment.

But maybe he needed to fall apart in order to learn that life isn’t perfect, that bad things do happen and you can’t stop living when they do.

I have this terrible habit of wanting to make everyone happy, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness.

It’s hard to let go of someone who’s been such a big part of your life for so long. It’s even harder when that person refuses to let you go.

I like the idea of getting caught.

You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me—” “You love me?” I blurt out.

Fine. If I have to suffer through this crap movie, I’m smoking a joint first.

follow him inside. My mind feels foggy from the weed, but in a good way,

He looks at the bathtub, where I’m lounging like Cleo-fucking-patra. He looks at the bubbles surrounding my body like a fluffy white cloud. And then he looks at Winston. “Dude,” I blurt out. “It’s not what it looks like.” “Nope, nope, nope, I don’t want to know!” Logan throws his hands in the air and starts backing toward the door as if he accidentally walked into a lion’s den. He halts. Snatches his pants off the rack. Continues backing away. His eyes once again focus on the pink dildo two inches from my hand. I try again. “I promise you, it’s not—” “I don’t want to know.

Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.” “Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.

Coach wastes no time delivering one of his brief, post-game speeches. As usual, it sounds like he’s talking in point form. “We lost. It feels shitty. Don’t let it get to you. Just means we work harder during practice and bring it harder for the next game.” He nods at everyone, then stalks out the door. I’d think he was pissed at us, if not for the fact that his victory speeches more or less go the same way—“We won. It feels great. Don’t let it go to your head. We work just as hard during practice and we win more games.” If any of our freshman players are expecting Coach to deliver epic motivational speeches a la Kurt Russell in Miracle, they’re in for a grave disappointment.

As I make the ten-minute drive into town, I curse O’Shea for forcing this volunteer gig on me and ponder the authenticity of voodoo dolls. Eventually I decide it doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. It’d still be fun to poke needles into a teeny doll version of Frank O’Shea. Once it starts falling apart from all the holes, I can use the head as a stress ball. At a red light, I shoot a quick text to my teammate Fitzy—Hey, do u know how 2 make a voodoo doll? His response doesn’t come until I reach the small arena across the street from the school. Him: I’d think u were fcking with me, but the question is stupid enuff to feel legit. No idea how to make v-doll. Can prolly use any old doll? Challenge will be finding a voodoo witch to link it to your target. Me: That makes sense. Him: Does it?? Me: Voodoo implies magic, hexes, etc. I don’t think any doll would work. Otherwise every doll is a v-doll, right? Him: Right. Me: Anyway. Thx. Thought u might know. Him: Why the fuck would *I* know? Me: Ur into all those fantasy role-play games. U know magic. Him: I’m not Harry Potter, ffs. Me: HP is a nerd. Ur a nerd. Ergo, ur a boy wizard. He sends a middle-finger emoji, then says, Bday beers at Malone’s 2nite. U still down? Me: Yup. Him: C U ltr

Damn right it is. Nobody should ever be someone else’s entire world. That’s not healthy, AJ. If your whole life is centered on one thing—one person—whatcha going to be left with if that person goes away? Absolutely nothing.” He gruffly reiterates, “Not healthy.

Right. Yeah, she did.” I keep my response vague, because Tucker is right there and he’s not allowed to know about Allie and me. And…shit. I guess that means I’m not allowed to harass him for being so secretive lately, what with this pot/kettle situation we’re in.

We go quiet as the next episode picks up exactly where it left off. Antoine manages to subdue Marie-Thérèse, and the two proceed to argue for ten minutes. Don’t ask me about what, because it’s in French, but I do notice that the same word—héritier—keeps popping up over and over again during their fight. “Okay, we need to look up that word,” I say in aggravation. “I think it’s important.” Allie grabs her cell phone and swipes her finger on the screen. I peek over her shoulder as she pulls up a translation app. “How do you think you spell it?” she asks. We get the spelling wrong three times before we finally land on a translation that makes sense: heir. “Oh!” she exclaims. “They’re talking about the father’s will.” “Shit, that’s totally it. She’s pissed off that Solange inherited all those shares of Beauté éternelle.” We high five at having figured it out, and in the moment our palms meet, pure clarity slices into me and I’m able to grasp precisely what my life has become. With a growl, I snatch the remote control and hit stop. “Hey, it’s not over yet,” she objects. “Allie.” I draw a steady breath. “We need to stop now. Before my balls disappear altogether and my man-card is revoked.” One blond eyebrow flicks up. “Who has the power to revoke it?” “I don’t know. The Man Council. The Stonemasons. Jason Statham. Take your pick.” “So you’re too much of a manly man to watch a French soap opera?” “Yes.” I chug the rest of my margarita, but the salty flavor is another reminder of how low I’ve sunk. “Jesus Christ. And I’m drinking margaritas. You’re bad for my rep, baby doll.” I shoot her a warning look. “Nobody can ever know about this.” “Ha. I’m going to post it all over the Internet. Guess what, folks—Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis is over at my place right now watching soaps and drinking girly drinks.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “You’ll never get laid again.” She’s right about that. “Can you at least add that the night ended with a blowjob?” I grumble. “Because then everyone will be like, oh, he suffered through all that so he could get his pole waxed.” “Your pole waxed? That’s such a gross description.” But her eyes are bright and she’s laughing as she says it.

Hey. You know Twilight?” He blinks. “Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?” “Are you fucking with me right now?” I ignore that. “Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit? Or is there actually a biological reason why we’re drawn to certain people? Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?” “Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?” God, I am. This is what Allie has reduced me to. A sad, pathetic loser who goes to a bar and forces his friend to participate in a Twilight book club.

Our facility is state of the art. There are half a dozen big cozy offices that Chad Jensen could’ve parked his ass in, but for some reason he chose this modest office tucked away near the laundry room. I knock on the door, only opening it when I hear Coach’s gruff, “Get in here.” The last player who waltzed in without knocking got a tongue-lashing that the rest of us could hear all the way from the showers. I like to think Coach uses the office to jack off and that’s why he insists on privacy. Logan hypothesizes that he has a secret office family that’s only allowed to venture out in the wee hours of the night. Logan is an idiot.

What do you want, Allie? Tell me one thing you’ve been dying to do but haven’t gotten around to doing.” Her forehead furrows as she thinks it over. “Well. I’ve been wanting to start a new cleanse, but I keep putting it off.” “I have no idea what that means.” “I go on these juice cleanses a couple times a year,” she explains. “It sucks, because you’re stuck on a liquid diet for two whole weeks, but you feel so much better afterward.” “You’re a fucking weirdo. Pick something else. Something normal.” She pauses, deep in thought again, and then her expression brightens. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to salsa dance.” Fuck. That’s such a chick thing to say. “Then do it,” I tell her.

Upstairs,” I say again. And once again he shoots that down. “Here,” he whispers against my breasts. I slide my fingers through his short hair and tug his head up. “Why are you so allergic to your bedroom?” I demand. Hannah told me that Dean rarely has sex up there, and now I’m even more curious to know why. “I’d rather fool around down here,” is the vague reply. “Why?” I press. I instantly regret asking, because Dean’s eyes go heavy-lidded and his voice lowers to a sexy, molten rasp. “Because I like the idea of getting caught.” My mouth falls open in amazement, but he’s not finished. “And once I get caught…” The grin he gives me is downright filthy. “…I like being watched.” Then he kisses me again, and my surroundings fade away until all I can see, all I can feel, is him.

The thump of my footsteps drowns out the rest of that sentence. I burst into Allie’s bedroom, then skid to a stop when I find her curled up on the bed. She lifts her head at my entrance, and the desolate look in her big blue eyes shreds my heart to pieces. “Baby,” I say softly. A startled gasp sounds from the door. Gritting my teeth, I spin on my heel and proceed to slam the door in Hannah’s and Garrett’s astonished faces. They don’t exist to me right now. Only Allie does,

The countdown starts, and I make a big show of studying Diana’s face. Tilting my head, squinting, taking a good, hard look. “Oh, fuck off,” she grumbles. “We all know you’re going to say something sleazy, like my⁠—” “Your smile.” Her suspicion is palpable. “Are you serious?” “You have a really pretty smile.” My voice suddenly sounds a little gruff to my ears. “The prompt was sexiest feature, not prettiest,” Gia gloats. “You guys don’t score the point.” “Oh, in that case, I love her ass.” “And there he is,” Diana says, sighing.

Lo digo en serio. Deja de llamarte eso y avergonzarte a ti misma. Y que le den por saco a la palabra «putón» o «puta». Es ofensivo. Y la gente debería ser capaz de tener relaciones sexuales siempre que les apetezca, todas las veces que les apetezca, con todas las personas que les apetezca, sin que se les cuelgue una etiqueta de mierda” - Dean DiLaurentis

Him: I’ll bring the rope.

Me and Garrett can handle our own in a fight, but if you want some bone-crushing, we can unleash Logan on him.

If I slide my hand under that dress right now, we both know what I’ll find. That your pussy is wetter than it’s ever been.

It’s me. You want me.” He pushes one finger inside and my inner muscles betray me by tightening around it. “And as long as this pussy keeps dripping for me, we’re not fucking done.

I’m trying to decide what I want more—those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, or your tight pussy squeezing the hell out of it.

- Como é que ele olhava para mim? - pergunta a Allie, cautelosa. - Como se fosses o mundo dele. Ela franze o sobrolho. - E isso é uma coisa má? - Podes crer que é. Ninguém devia ser o mundo de ninguém. Isso não é saudável, AJ. Se toda a tua vida estiver centrada à volta de uma coisa, de uma pessoa, o que te vai restar quando essa pessoa se for embora? Nada. - Resmunga: - Não é saudável.

- Então devias falar com ele sobre ser professor, ou treinador, qualquer coisa que envolva um trabalho com os miúdos. Ele foi feito para isso. - O Ellis começa a levantar-se, mas eu impeço-o. - Porque está a dizer-me isto? - Porque também olhas para ele como se ele fosse o dono do mundo. E tenho a impressão de que ele pensa o mesmo de ti. - O Ellis inclina a cabeça e vai-se embora, patinando para se juntar ao Dean e aos rapazes no gelo.

O meu pai estava errado. E certo. Estava errado e certo ao mesmo tempo. O Dean foi-se abaixo, sim. Mas talvez precisasse de se ir abaixo para aprender que a vida não é perfeita, que acontecem coisas más e que não podemos deixar de viver quando elas acontecem.

Life hack: if you don’t want someone asking you questions, say the word tampon and the conversation ends.

I do what I want, when I want. And I don’t give a shit what people think about me.

You're lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me --" "You love me? You just said it." "I ... Well, damn. I guess I did.

I need him.

Me: You’re into all those fantasy role-play games. You know magic. Him: I’m not Harry Potter, ffs. Me: HP is a nerd. You’re a nerd. Ergo, you’re a boy wizard.

The guy has the attention span of a fruit fly, and the affection-giving habits of a puppy, offering his sexual devotion to whoever happens to be holding the treat. By which I mean the vagina.

You…really don’t, huh? I’m starting to think you might be the most honest person I’ve ever met.” “Another requirement in the Life of Dean. Say what you mean, mean what you say.” “And do what you want.” “And do what you want,” I echo. “I think I really like the Life of Dean.” I think I really like you, I almost blurt out.

think it takes a certain level of trust to sit next to someone and not feel the pressing urge to babble away. My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them.

Please, baby, I’ve been such a good boy… I’ve waited a whole week for this. Don’t I deserve a reward for my patience?

Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.” A laugh flies out. “Dream on.

The entirety of chapter 28

I’m taking a shower,” I announce. “And when I get out, you and I are going to have a little talk about how fucking crazy you are.

She’s Wellsy’s best friend, for starters. And it doesn’t feel right to wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am her.

Because you also look at him like he hung the moon. And I get the sense he feels the same about you.

Garrett points a finger at me. “If he tries anything, I’ll beat the shit out of him.

Baby…” I swallow my rage. “Baby, look at me.

relax, baby doll. It’s just a little French kissing between me and my girl. Nobody died.

And five minutes in the life of a hockey player?More than enough to score a few points.

the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them.

Well, of course he does. I’m amazing in bed.

Is it crazy that I almost wish he’s going for a gun? That he plans on holding everyone hostage until I agree to get back together with him? For some screwed up reason, I think I’m better equipped to handle that than a proposal.

Well, it doesn’t mean anything, baby doll. So you were jealous. Big deal. Do you know how fucking jealous I am right now? Do you think I like seeing every guy in the bar drooling over your tits and shoving their hands in their pockets to rearrange the stiffies you gave them showing up in that getup? I want to rip their eyes out just for looking at you.

I heard footsteps outside the front door and suddenly someone just walked in like they live here⁠—” “I do live here,” I growl.

I’m taking a shower,” I announce. “And when I get out, you and I are going to have a little talk about how fucking crazy you are.” Her cheeks redden. “I’m sorry, okay? I already admitted I overreacted. ” “You think?” I hop on one foot, then the other, to peel off my disgusting socks. “I’m serious. I’m not done being angry at you, so you better be waiting for me in my room when I’m out of the shower.” “What are you going to do, spank me?” I growl. “Don’t fucking tempt me, babe.” “Gross,” Summer pipes up. “Please don’t discuss your BDSM sex games in front of your sister.” I point my finger at her. “Not. Another. Word.” I glance at Tucker, the traitor who was getting so much joy out of my misery. “Please escort Summer to Garrett’s room and figure out a way to lock her inside it.

Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.” He groans again. “Jesus. I can’t believe you got the drop on me like that. You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me⁠—” “You love me?” I blurt out.

The time apart succeeded in centering me, but now it’s time to get my man back.

I pushed away the most important person in my life last night. It floors me how, in three short months, that’s what Allie Hayes has become. She’s everything to me.

Stellar boyfriend doesn’t quite make his list of strengths either, at least not in recent days.

Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?” “Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?

Hey. You know Twilight?” He blinks. “Excuse me?” “Twilight. The vampire book.” His wary eyes study my face. “What about it?” “Okay, so you know how Bella’s blood is extra special? Like how it gives Edward a raging boner every time he’s around her?

never give up on love.

Aun así, me duele el corazón. Es difícil dejar marchar a alguien que ha sido un parte muy importante de tu vida durante tanto tiempo. Y es aún mas difícil cuando esa persona se niega rotundamente a dejarte marchar.

Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.” “Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.” “Ah. Makes sense. Sort of like how whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” “Exactly like that.

Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.

You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me—

Because you told me you love me, and I love you too, and you know how turned on I get by all this emotional stuff.

But it wasn’t fair to you. I had no right to insist that you sacrifice the future you want just so I could feel better about the future I’m stuck with.

You can’t order someone to put your happiness ahead of their own.

I can’t keep doing this to myself, this twisted cycle of joy and heartache, especially when the person I’m supposed to be building a future with is determined to hold me back.

I know he would never lay a hand on me or fly into a manic rage. But I’m afraid of his ability to sweet-talk me. He’s so good at it. All he has to do is call me baby and flash that adorable smile, and I’m a goner.

Truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll survive this breakup. I’ve loved this guy for years. And Sean does have his sweet moments

The only one of Logan’s crazy acronyms I live my life by—STAG.” His mouth stretches in a broad smile. “Stand there and grind.

Stop slut-shaming yourself. And fuck the word slut. People should be able to have sex whenever they want, however many times they want, with however many partners they choose, and not get some shitty label slapped on them.

Don’t bother,” Fitzy advises. “The show sucks. Read the books instead.

You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me⁠—” “You love me?” I blurt out.

- Como é que ele olhava para mim? - pergunta a Allie, cautelosa. - Como se fosses o mundo dele. Ela franze o sobrolho. - E isso é uma coisa má? - Podes crer que é. Ninguém devia ser o mundo de ninguém. Isso não é saudável, AJ. Se toda a tua vida estiver centrada à volta de uma coisa, de uma pessoa, o que te vai restar quando essa pessoa se for embora? Nada. - Resmunga: - Não é saudável.

- Porque também olhas para ele como se ele fosse o dono do mundo. E tenho a impressão de que ele pensa o mesmo de ti. (...)

mean you’re facing a Jacob quandary. You imprinted on her pussy, and now it’s the only pussy you can think about. You exist solely for this pussy. Like Jacob and that weird mutant baby.

Hand it over, baby doll.