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I don’t love change, personally. I prefer stability. Once I feel comfortable with something—a place, a person, a routine—I want it to last forever.
“Do you feel like you’re in danger right now, Gigi?”
“Also,” he continues, cutting off a piece of the pecan pie with his fork, “before you get involved with any dude, make sure he’s not the slut of the group. And if he is, get him tested. Because there’s always one slutty boy in every crew.”
“All right, Woody,” Nance chirps. “Bean that bag.” She should be arrested for that phrase.
“Use me.”
Women have truly mastered the art of social media warfare.
“You don’t owe people your forgiveness.” “You forgive for yourself, not for them.”
“Hypothermia is hot.” Beckett gives her another wink.
happily take in the sight of butterflies against a tropical backdrop. The beautiful colors all around us. Shimmery pastels to iridescent blues, with browns and yellows and reds thrown into the stunning array.
That’s when I realized I don’t want my whole life online. All these moments belong to me. Not anyone else.”
I suddenly wonder if somewhere, somehow, maybe someone designed us to fit this well together.
“Dude. You’re so bad at human interaction that people get suspicious when you inquire about their well-being.”
“Just feel what you feel. It’s okay.”
My heart clenches at the sound of her voice. It’s crazy how much you can miss someone’s voice when you’re no longer hearing it every day.
“Nobody likes failure, G. But I maintain that this isn’t failure. This is just one moment in time.”
“Always. You fall, I pick you up. Always.”
