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The way I see it, I have three options: Fake my own death. Finally admit to my parents that I’ve lied to them for five years. Fly to Los Angeles and bargain with my wife.
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.
She leans forward and hugs me. “This is going to be a disaster. I’m so excited!”
“That diamond is like… the size of my nipple.”
I can absolutely imagine I will, at some point, crack an inappropriate joke to someone who turns out to be the leader of a NATO country.
Being an artist is sometimes about not being afraid to do it badly first.
This is amazing. But I remember I’m rich:
“It’s great to see you both. I think I’m going to take my husband to the bungalow for a bit, if you know what I mean.” “She means for showers,” he says quickly. “Yes. Showers together,” I say, grinning. “After all these years, I still can’t get enough of him.”
Help. I cannot imagine pooping in there when West is anywhere in this bungalow with me.
If I had to choose between this shower and a lifetime supply of Takis, I would choose this shower. If I had to choose between this shower and seeing Pick-It-Up Ricky-Derrick walk face-first into a sliding glass door at a party, I’d choose this shower. If I had to choose between this shower and a date with Harry Styles… I would choose Harry Styles, but I’d hesitate. This is the best shower of my entire life.
“Dad just talks shit. It’s his favorite entertainment. Having smart people believe his nonsense makes him feel like the smartest person in the room.”
wonder who he voted for
“What kind of man needs to set an alarm?”
is it gay to set an alarm so you wake up on time?
“Don’t you fucking touch the lips,” he says, voice hoarse. “You look amazing.”
I realize, just before we touch, that he’s about to erase everything I know about the act of kissing.
Just ask. The two sexiest words ever spoken by an unreadable man.
“Even if you told me the offer was all fake, and you don’t actually have two nickels to rub together,” I tell him, “I’d still stay and help you pull this off. I’m your ride-or-die, West Weston.”
It is the comfort of having an ally. It is the powerlessness of infatuation. It is the terrifying beginning of more.
“Yeah. January 28. How did you know?”
omg birthday twinnn
And this, right here, is where I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether I’m supposed to laugh at Anna Green, ravage her, or marry her all over again—but this time for real.
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.”
Apparently while Liam and I were re-creating most of the Kama Sutra, our big brother was studying medical texts.
I feel the longing solidify into realization: I want our marriage to be real. Marrying her for student housing was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done, and it turns out it might have been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“No one here is trying to fuck you.” “Then why am I standing here with your goddamn dick up my ass!”
WHAT 😭
“When we care about someone, they deserve the benefit of the doubt. We have to consider not only what they did, but also why they did it. Intent matters,”
“I want to deserve you,”
“I want all of you. I want to give you everything I have.” His lips linger on mine one more time. “There are no strings attached to what I’m offering,” he tells me. “I just want you. I just want to love you.”
“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
