I think it’s cool that you care about your heritage, but yet you don’t conform. Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never lose that feisty, impulsive side of you.
Excuse me? Do you mind if I sit next to you? This spot has the best view of... ” I glanced out the window. “The... gravel roof.
Leaning against him, feeling the warmth radiate off him, listening to his breath go in and out, she knew she was exactly where she belonged.
I lacked whatever version of radar was for players. Playdar – yeah, I was definitely missing playdar.
Sweetheart, there’s probably something you should know about me... ” Hudson tightened his grip on my hand. “I’m no gentleman.
Is that a microphone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
The girl had so many evasive maneuvers, I was starting to think she was a trained spy.
Then she’d turned enough for me to get a better look, and I’d actually felt my eye bulge, like in those cartoons where the character’s eyes pop out of their head, stretched until they can’t stretch any more.
She kissed him with all the built-up frustration inside her and drew it out, gently biting his lower lip. He groaned, and she moved her lips to his ear. “The longer you make me wait, the harder I’m gonna make you work for it.
But you’re different from other girls, and I’m different when I’m with you. I’m better when I’m with you.
Without trust, we didn’t have a shot. As much as I knew it, it didn’t make the truth hurt any less.
I pretended to be done with love again, although deep down, I craved it. Craved intimacy with anyone, really.
Honestly,” Lyla said, “I feel that finding the right person means not having to choose between them and your passion. Instead you work together to figure out a way to have both.
Like I said, you can’t save everyone. But the girl who saves you back? That’s the girl you fight like hell for.
You once said all you wanted was me. If you still feel that way – even a little bit – you have me. All of me, I’m yours.
Damn, Lyla. That’s what you’ve been hiding under those scarves and long skirts?
Why didn’t you tell me I had syrup on my face?” Lyla asked when I settled behind the steering wheel. Her tongue darted out, licking the corner of her lip. I went to put the key in the ignition and missed.
Cinderella was the first fairy tale I remember – the one I was most obsessed with because of the gowns and magic and pretty shoes. Yes, her home life was less than ideal – and considering the talking mice and birds, she probably needed serious therapy.
Hope was so dangerous.
You’re perfect in your not perfect.