She asks if I’m a virgin, but her voice is timid when she asks it. “No,” I say. “But now that I’ve met you, I kind of wish I was.
We all have a limit. What we’re willing to put up with before we break.
Jeremy opens the door, peeking his head in. “Hey. I’m headed to Target to get a few groceries. If you make me a list, I can grab whatever you need.
If someone is homeless because he has a need for something that is stronger than his need for a home, it doesn’t deter me in the least. Maybe it’s because I’m a nurse, but I don’t believe addiction is a choice. Addiction is an illness, and it pains me to see people forced to live this way because they’re unable to help themselves.
Sometimes people meet and none of the surface-level stuffs matters because they see past all that.
But sitting here with my mother, I crave weakness. I just want to be able to give up for a little while. I want her to take over and hug me and tell me it’ll all be okay. And for the next fifteen minutes while I cry in her arms, that’s exactly what happens. I just stop fighting for myself because I need someone else to do it for me.
Every November 9th I’ll wait for you, hoping one day you’ll be able to find enough forgiveness to love me again.
But heartache builds character. Remember?” “So does being in love,” he says.
I spot the roof first as I climb the hill: slate gray like an angry storm cloud. Seconds later, the rest of it appears, and my breath snags in my throat. Dark stone works its way across the front of the house, broken only by the blood red door, the only relief of color in this sea of gray. Ivy covers the left side of the house, but instead of charming, it’s threatening – like a slow-moving cancer. I.
It’s funny how you can be so happy with someone and love them so much, it creates an underlying sense of fear in you that you never knew before them. The fear of losing them. The fear of them getting hurt. I imagine that’s what it’s like when you have children. It’s probably the most incredible kind of love you’ll ever know, but it’s also the most terrifying.
Sometimes the things that matter to you most are also the things that hurt you the most.
I want to tell him thank you, but I don’t. If I tell him thank you, it would seem like I assume he did that for me. I know he didn’t do it for me. He did it for the man who was cold.
I haven’t read any of them, either. Not since her first book.” I spin and look at him. “Really?” “I didn’t like being inside her head.
Ned gets decapitated? I swear to God, if that actually happens, I’m throwing away my television.
It’ll take time. I would attempt to organize it myself, but it’s all Greek to me.
Everything about him is exactly what I needed tonight. His voice is calm and caring, and his arms are protective, and his presence is comforting.
I was not the mouse, I was the cheese. I was going to stand there until he came to me.
Do you live off chicken nuggets and French fries?
I’m beginning to think Verity writes from a villainous point of view because she’s a villain. Being evil is all she knows.
It’s as if she were an egg, cracked open and poured out, and all that’s left are the tiny fragments of hard shell.