All Hail the Underdogs (Breakaway, #3)

by E.L. Massey

It’s as physical as affection can get, and it’s excused by adrenaline and the triumph of the effort succeeding, and god, he loves hockey.

Damien tries to imagine it: Rome with little ringlets. Rome doing the same multistep routine that Damien does to keep his curls defined and frizz-free. It makes his head hurt.

He wants to touch him. He wants to write him. I wish I was smaller. I wish I was a tidy thing I could place in your hands. He has to look away, for a moment, to get the words in his head to quiet down. He can’t get his phone out and start composing a poem on the spot. That would be weird, even for him.

I fucking relate, Damien

He’s like a poem in a language Damien doesn’t know. But he wants to.

Love is supposed to be a reckless thing. But all I’m made of is caution.

!!!!!!!!(!

if he’s going to be pathetic, he’s going to do it really fucking thoroughly.

because if i keep my love in my chest and not in my mouth then maybe it won’t hurt so badly when it is taken away

I like to think of personal discovery and developing your perception of self that way, a process of building that needs all the difficult and unsavory experiences at its foundation.