First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

For the hopeless romantics. And the reluctant ones too.

If my parents are the picture of joy, then I am the portrait of existential dread.

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.

Aiden Valentine: Flowers die. Everything dies. Caller: I thought this was a romance hotline.

“You’re right. What could possibly be embarrassing about my daughter calling in to a radio station to discuss my love life?” “Lack of a love life,” Maya amends.

“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.

Because I’m tired. I’m tired of trying so hard at something that comes so easily for everyone else.

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.”

“I want goose bumps. I want to be wanted. All this time and I—I haven’t given up. I guess I’m just waiting for it to find me.”