Picking Daisies on Sundays (Picking Daisies on Sundays, #1)

by Liana Cincotti

For the hopeless, and hopeful, romantics who don’t know they’re noticed in a crowded room.

“I wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful because you are. I knew I wouldn’t miss you when you walked in tonight because you’re you. You’re so physically enthralling, let alone when you speak. And when you speak, all of the light in the room comes from you. You’re absolute sunshine and spring.

The Lover and the Archer, they’d call it. The girl who kept falling in love, and the boy who could receive love from whomever he aimed his heart at.

Romantic playlists burned into CDs. Hearts embroidered into scarves. Soft kisses on foreheads. Dark theaters on rainy Friday nights. Dainty gold jewelry against soft skin. French poems written while drunk. Protective hands against your hips guiding you through crowds.

“I’ll buy you flowers every day for the rest of my life if it makes you this happy.”

“I want to be noticed in a crowded room. I want to be the only person in a crowded room. I want to be wanted, truly wanted, and desired. I want to laugh and to sing and to dance with someone and not feel self-conscious over it because I love them and I’m confident that they love me. I want to be touched and kissed and held because I’ve forgotten what it feels like … and yet, I think I deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve this, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re spring, baby. You’re more radiant than flowers and the sun and no one can take that away from you.”

“I’m so grateful for everything I have in life, I am. But when I see you, all I can think about is how much better life would be if you were mine. I’m so infatuated with everything you do, from the color of your lips to the way you slide your hips back and forth when you dance to the way you twist your earrings when you’re upset or how you blush when I touch you and how you breathe when I say Daisy.”

“I hate you,” I muttered. ​“You love me,” he argued. ​“I do,” I succumbed.

“Because when you find out the person you’ve been in love with for your entire life loves you back, you’ll spend the rest of your life making up for lost time.”

I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy. – Don’t Blame Me, Taylor Swift