Just for the Summer (Part of Your World, #3)

by Abby Jimenez

“The absolute chokehold that Starbucks has on us.

No long-term rentals in sight because it was peak tourist season, so we were trapped in the RV from Breaking Bad for three months—”

In a world where you can choose anger or empathy, always choose empathy,

Sometimes the best way to show love or be kind to someone is to meet them where they are.”

If he fucks with you and you unravel, I’m going to unalive him with a can opener.”

You can still love someone that you’ve decided not to speak to anymore. You can still wish them well and hope for the best for them.

That’s just what my face does when I leave it unattended.”

“Water?” Leigh said. “That stuff that killed everyone on the Titanic?”

He’s awakened something inside of your cold, dead heart.”

If I don’t find someone to love me I shall remain forever a beast?”

“You have to manifest your own destiny.”

“You are the worst.” “Don’t care. Bye.”

He baked brownies.” She looked up at me. “You’re right. You should bone him.”

I wanted to make sure you had enough snacks so you don’t get crabby.”

Because when you’re in love, you do hard things.

“I’m going to let that tall drink of water slam me like a door.”

Home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

If you can choose anger or empathy, always choose empathy. And I did.

The best kind of love doesn’t happen on moonlit walks and romantic vacations. It happens in between the folds of everyday life. It’s not grand gestures that show how you feel, it’s all the little secret things you do to make her life better that you never tell her about.

It isn’t glamorous, it isn’t all butterflies and stars in your eyes. It’s real. This is the kind of love that forever is made of. Because if it’s this good when life is draining and mundane and hard, think of how wonderful it will be when the love songs are playing and the moon is out.

Home is something that’s always there, I realized. No matter where you are in the world, you know it’s where you left it, unchanged and waiting.

“I would stay forever if you asked me,” I whispered. “Then stay.”