First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

It feels like every time I get my hopes up for something good, reality comes out swinging. I don’t know how to be a hopeful person anymore. It’s easier not to be.

“When the whole world tells you you’re silly for wanting the things you want, you start to believe them. You start to think you’re not worth it. That if the things you’re waiting for do exist, they’re not for someone like you.” She sighs, a small, hopeless sound that twists through my headphones. “But what’s wrong with being a romantic? I can be a confident, independent woman and still want someone to hold my hand. To ask about my day. It’s a good thing to want passion and excitement and care. Attention and affection. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that.

I don’t want to be with someone if they’re not giving me something I don’t already have. I don’t want to waste my time on things that don’t feel like everything I’ve always wanted for myself.”

“Because you’ve got a big, squishy heart in there, you grumpy asshole.”

I wanted to tell Lucie that she’s right to believe in it. Her magic. And I hope she finds what she’s looking for.

“I like thinking that I’d be worth the trouble of something like that,”

“I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.”

I wonder what it’s like to walk around with your heart on your sleeve. Mine is buried so deep in my chest I’m not sure I could find it if I wanted to.

“I think books are sexy,” she says very seriously. “No one at school has quite lived up to Aragorn yet.”

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but no one ever will.”

“Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.”

Is it possible to die from the feel of a woman’s thighs? Maybe. It certainly feels like a possibility right now.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Lucie Stone.”

Kissing Lucie was a mistake. Not because I regret it, but because I am fundamentally unable to think about anything else.

“Because you said it was your favorite,” I admit. “And I want your favorite to be my favorite.”

I don’t want to listen to Piano Concerto in F, I want to listen to Aiden flirt with Lucie.

“I can be brave enough for the both of us. I can make my own magic. You just have to give me a reason to.”

Aiden never stopped believing in love. He forgot how to. He built a fortress around his heart to protect himself and lost the key somewhere along the way.