Ugly Love

by Colleen Hoover

I’d say they were as clear blue as the waters of the Caribbean, but I’ve never actually been to the Caribbean, so I wouldn’t know.

The strength in his bone structure contrasts with the soft, inviting appeal of his lips.

My father visits Phoenix a lot. My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my mother died. My father is a bastard.

When Miles looks at me, his eyes hide everything. Dillon’s eyes don’t hide anything, and right now, they’re clearly undressing me.

Oh, wow. That was an oddly sexy sentence.

His shirt isn’t buttoned. I’m staring at his stomach. Stop staring at his stomach.

Oh my word, he has the V. Those beautiful indentations on men that run the length of their outer abdominal muscles, disappearing beneath their jeans as if the indentations are pointing to a secret bull’s-eye. Jesus Christ, Tate, you’re staring at his damn crotch!

He’s buttoning his shirt now, so I somehow gain superhuman strength and force my eyes to...

I’m not supposed to fall in love with your laugh, Rachel. She sighs. I fall in love with that, too.

They don’t tell me no, so I do. When my lips touch hers, it’s so many things. It’s good and bad and right and wrong and revenge.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Miles but only two seconds since the last time I’ve thought about him.

He smiles, too. He. Smiles. Too.

I have to chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I think you’re attracted to me, Miles.

“So what’s the point of continuing this if we know it won’t end well?” I ask her. “Because we don’t know how to stop.” She’s right.

Good Lord. He’s kissing me.

I have no thoughts left. Brain = Liquid. Heart = Butter.

Now Miles seems even bigger, and my lungs seem smaller.

But when you like to kiss someone because of who she is, the difference isn’t found in the pleasure. The difference is found in the pain you feel when you’re not kissing her.

then make a stop in the restroom to check my hair (I hate that I care)

Miles smiles For no one else Miles only smiles For me.

Because I’m reciting embarrassing third-grade-level rhymes about you.

I love being with him but hate myself more and more with each new lie that passes my lips.

“Love isn’t always pretty, Tate. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it’ll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you’re back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way.”

His punctuality pisses me off,

I fall in and out and back in love with that answer.

“I can’t tell if you’re really mature for your age or really delusional.”

“An unhealthy mixture of both, I’m sure.”

You like me, Miles Archer.

“I suppose if a man lived through the ugliest side of love, he might never want to experience it again.”

I’m learning that no matter how difficult a situation is, people learn how to adapt to it.

I may not know anything about his past or his life, but I definitely notice that he hasn’t called anyone to let them know he’s okay. That makes me sad for him.

I’m sad, because we’re having fun together. I’m angry, because we’re having fun together and it makes me want so much more of this.

Every time I’m with him, he fills my heart up more and more, and the more it’s filled with pieces of him, the more painful it’ll be when he rips it out of my chest as though it never belonged there in the first place.

“If you love me more today than you loved me yesterday, then I can’t wait for tomorrow,”

“I don’t want to swim any more,” he says, sliding his lips from the base of my throat all the way up to my mouth again. “Well, then, what do you want to do?” I whisper weakly. “You,”

I can’t explain what happens to me, because I don’t know. But it’s as if every single thing he’s ever said and done that’s hurt me impales me all at once. I want to scream at him. I want to hate him. I want to know what the hell happened that made him capable of saying things that can hurt me more

than any other words have ever come close to doing.

someone and making love to them. You haven’t fucked me in more than a month. Every time you’re inside me, you’re making love to me. I can see it in the way you look at me. You miss me when we aren’t together. You think about me all the time. You can’t even wait ten seconds to walk in your own front door before coming to see me. So don’t you dare try to tell me you’ve been clear from day one, because you are the murkiest goddamn man I’ve ever met.”

That name. It said it all. I’ll never have his past, because she has it. I’ll never have his future, because he refuses to give it to anyone who isn’t her.

The only times he wasn’t brutally honest with me were the times he didn’t

speak.

I want to, Tate. I want to love you so much it fucking hurts.

“You deserve so much more than what you’re allowing yourself to have.”

“Some people… they grow wiser as they grow older. Unfortunately, most people just grow older.”

The silence was never so loud until I told Miles good-bye.

“It may be a small piece at a time, but my past is yours now. All of it. Anything you want to know, I want to tell you. But only if you promise me I can also have your future.”

This makes me nervous. “What rules?” “Well, for one, I’m not allowed to break your heart,” he says. “Second, I’m also not allowed to break your damn heart. And last, I’m not allowed to fucking break your damn heart.”

“you’re looking at me like you fell in love with me.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t fall in love with you, Tate. I flew