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“Are you shitting my dick right now?” West squints at me. “I—no?
“I was fake-marrying you because I couldn’t afford rent off campus. What made you think I could afford an attorney?
“In what universe am I your type?” “You were present and willing. At the time, that’s all I required.” She twirls a pretend mustache. “Ah, amour.”
Google tells me that West is the son of a billionaire, and a glance at my banking app tells me I am a thirty-dollaraire.
“Rich ladies lack wrinkles, self-awareness, and body hair.”
“Despite the vibe of these photos, I’m convinced the man himself only performs perfunctory missionary with his eyes closed.”
“This is going to be a disaster. I’m so excited!”
I need you to look like you’re comfortable with me, comfortable being married to me. But I don’t need you to pretend to not be Anna Green, Muppet-human hybrid.”
“Raymond Weston never met a nepo baby he didn’t like.”
“It’s all boring family dynasty shit,” I tell her. “Nothing boring involves the word dynasty.”
“Eccentric. Another word only rich people use. For the rest of us, I believe the word is nutty.”
Being an artist is sometimes about not being afraid to do it badly first.
“Luxury overwater bungalow,” I whisper to West. “The best three-word combination ever uttered.”
What must his life be if he can be walking in literal paradise and look like he’s being led to the gallows?
“I’d forgotten what you look like. This wife of yours keeps you locked up.” Houston, we have a problem(atic man). “Chained, too,” I say, and wink. “But only when he asks for it.”
“After meeting your parents, I can’t imagine seeing me naked will be the hardest part of this trip.” “Point taken.”
There’s a real Isle Esme feel to the decor (if you know, you know),
“Charlotte wanted to color her hair in high school. I said absolutely not.” “Actually, Mom, you said if I got straight A’s, I could do it.” Janet smiles tightly. “Exactly.”
we all spend too much time talking about how busy we are and not enough time taking care of ourselves!” “Do less, but better,”
“I would say we love a short king, but in your dad’s case, I’m not sure we do.”
“No hands or feet or boners on my side, sir.” Another laugh. I really like that sound. “If my boner could reach that side, I think you’d be intrigued.”
The ocean is monster soup,
Whenever someone asks me what my Enneagram is, I’m like, ‘Whichever is the lazy, affectionate, cheese-loving one.’ ”
it was easy to choose to do what I loved, rather than what might make someone love me.
My husband’s idea of romance is three pumps and a high five.”
My ovaries stand up and exit my body with a forlorn salute,
If there’s one common skill every adult woman possesses, it’s how to scope out a friend’s prospective or cheating love interest on the Internet.
“There’s nobody more fearless than people who can’t have dairy,”
Reddit is both a trash fire and an invaluable resource.”
“The nice thing about art is that it can be terrible, and people will still call it art.”
He looked like he knew how to read a map but i guess not Narrator: Like most men, Micah didn’t stop to ask for directions
“Everything about a good business starts at the bottom.
whoever managed the installation of his emotional programming did a great job.” “I think that’s called ‘therapy.’ ”
Kisses aren’t feelings. But… what if they are?
“He would do anything to protect the people he loves. Remember that.”
It isn’t anger. It’s anguish.
I finally register the unnamed cocktail of anguish that’s been churning in me all day. It is the comfort of having an ally. It is the powerlessness of infatuation. It is the terrifying beginning of more.
when I wanted to feel bad, he let me feel bad. The only thing he ever said was “It’ll get better.” And he was never wrong.
“Boredom never killed anyone.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “It just made them wish it would.”
I’ve kissed guys. A lot of guys. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s great. But mostly it’s fine. Mostly it feels good but doesn’t hit me like a spear to the chest and a slap to the lady parts.
“What’s your sign?” “Scorpio.” I wince,
“What’s your most cherished possession?” “Probably my kitchen drawer that’s full of packets of red pepper flakes and Parmesan cheese.”
“How did you take this off without removing skin?” he asks, flummoxed. “I guess now is when I tell you the truth,” I say with quiet solemnity. “You may have noticed that I sparkle in the sunlight. That my skin is like marble.” I pause. “This is the skin of a killer.”
“Let’s head back and be lazy today.” “Do we have to be lazy?” she asks. “No…” I pull back so I can get a better look at her expression. The heat in her eyes sends fire licking across my skin. “But if you’re going to look at me like that, we do have to be alone.”
chemotherapy, which is just… fuck,” she says, exhaling sharply. “Just a type of drug that kills the cancer a little faster than it kills you.”
“The pheromones are so strong at this table, it’s like living in a Teen Wolf fanfic.”
“No one here is trying to fuck you.” “Then why am I standing here with your goddamn dick up my ass!”
Am I okay? No. But will I be? Probably also no.
fuck anyone who makes you feel small. Fuck them.”
love—or something that looks like it.
