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Not fucking dimples. Those should be illegal. Or at least require some sort of warning before flashing them at people. Warning: Dimples may appear and cause panty-dropping.
what it might be like to be not just liked but loved.
“I see you, Ada. I always see you, even when you won’t look at me.”
Because you’re standing in front of me like some Wild West god in nothing but a towel, I thought.
“Wait,” Gus interrupted. “You have a secret place? What secret place?” “Well, if I told you about it, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it!” Brooks countered. “But Emmy knows about it.” Gus sounded genuinely offended. “Yeah, so?” “So why don’t I know about it?” “Because it’s a secret, Gus.” “But I’m your best friend.” My brother folded his arms over his chest. Jesus Christ, these two.
“Okay, I hate to break up the lovers’ quarrel,” Dusty interjected, “but we’re talking about Wes here.”
Loretta. The woman who told me she didn’t like country music named a calf after Loretta Lynn today.
“Are you seriously shirtless and bottle-feeding a baby cow right now?” I winked at her and she groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
For years, I had desperately wanted someone to just…be…with me. To sit next to me while the power was out and weather the storm together.
Gus rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear about the dreams you have about me, Theodora.”
He saw me for exactly who I was, and he loved me because of it, not in spite of it.

