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I became far less insecure about my soft-edged figure when I realized my body had evolved to hold weight and strength because of what my Polish lineage—on Connie’s side—had to survive.
yuuuuuup
“When did you start making your feelings smaller for other people’s benefit?”
Warren is such an asshole. Then again, most good-looking men tend to be.
true
“You’re nice to look at—especially when you’re clean.” He winks, and somewhere, an angel gets its wings.
“I could resist, try to swim out, try to avoid it—but it would be easier to float. And, for the first time, I’m not scared to.” Warren’s blue eyes look up, swirling with mixed emotion. Hopeful yet weary. “I’ve had a lot of people come and go in my life—most of those I was supposed to trust failed me.” His eyes close and hold a moment before he opens them. “I’d be an idiot to let myself get hurt. So I make judgments. I put people into boxes. I let my anger get the best of me and push them away. But you keep showing up. You seem to understand.”
Since the flirting ban, we have operated like a well-oiled machine. Though personally, I feel like the little engine chanting “I think I can” as it struggles up the hill every day.
“I want to keep all of you,” Warren says, blue eyes pinning me to where I sit. He rubs both thumbs over my own. “I want to keep all of you too.” I smile softly.
“I want a lot of things, Chloe. But…that’s a conversation for another day.”
He sees my messy…and stays.
Warren pushes up the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater and pulls down on the bottom hem as I turn to walk down the hall. Wait, his cable-knit sweater? Did he dress up? He isn’t in his usual plain long sleeve T-shirt and ripped jeans. These jeans are black and hardly worn…. Are they new?
His shoulders rise and fall on a breath before he looks my mother in the eye without hesitation. “And no, I don’t speak to my mother like that because…my junkie mother is dead.”
“Well, I’m going to go to my room now…have fun thanking him, I guess. Just don’t do it out here.”
I love Luke lolllll
“A dove is a symbol of peace.” He reaches toward me, holding my cheek in his palm. “That’s what you are to me…peace.”
This man is not my father, or my mother, and he’ll probably never change—but fuck it. I’m done.
gotta love the feminine rage fuck it moment
