A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)

by Meghan Quinn

Reaching up to the wall, I rap my knuckle four times. Like clockwork, she knocks three. Four knocks for four letters in love. Three knocks for three letters in you.

a pair of abs

doubleing

it's "doubling" without the "e"

The thought of kissing her consumes me, and I’ve never had that thought before, not since the first night I met her. It’s like those ten years have rushed back in a fury, like a snapshot of time unfolding in a blink of an eye, taking me all the way back to the moment I ran into her in the hallway.

I thought she was so fucking beautiful. So funny. So charming. So real. And then I found out how smart she was, how she had all the same likes and interests as I did. Throughout that night as we played Scrabble, I kept thinking I was going to ask her out when all was said and done, but then . . . she asked to be friends.

gaggle

The collective noun for a group of crows is a murder

Breaker: I’m always thinking about you. Lia: You can’t always be thinking about me. Breaker: I am. When I wake up, I wonder how I can possibly interact with you, how I can catch a glimpse of your smile. Throughout the day, I know that if I need a pick-me-up, some comfort, or fun, you’re the person I want to see. And at night, when I go to sleep, you’re the last thing I think of before I shut my eyes.

When he doesn’t text back, I almost walk over to his apartment until I hear one solid, heavy knock against the wall. Then four. Then three. And then there’s silence. One knock. Four. Three.

Instead of him knocking 4 times and her responding with 3. "I Love You" instead of "love you"

My mind quickly translates it: I love you.