More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I SparkNoted my way through Ernest Hemingway in ninth-grade English.
My first love: Sparknote
That’s the problem with me. I constantly read the room and cater my movements, words, thoughts, which-comma-goes-where to other people.
I fear this trait will never leave me...
How awkward it is to have a body.
And that’s the thing about straight, white literary men. They’re all the same at the end of the day. Even the boys who’ve barely yet learned what power they have.
Maybe it's the power you give them
rolled-up chinos, loafers with no socks.
Im going to pretend i didnt read that
“William can get out of here. There is nothing worse than a straight white male poet.”
And there is nothing worse than straight white women shitting on straight white men just because they think its femenist and cool
She works as the social media manager for a popular language learning app,
Duo??? He haunts me even within romance novels?!
And when my stomach unexpectedly twists to find his eyes still on me, I realize I see him more fully than I have in years. And this time, he’d wanted me to.
Ahhhhhhhh
You can take the girl out of high school, but you can’t take the fractured remnants of an obsessive crush out of the girl.
my English teacher from tenth grade. I’d swear to anyone there was a vibe.”
Should i call the cops??
And another: In a poem where I write in the persona of a pop-music star having sex to her own music,
What on earth
His car is a manual, which is something that should not be as hot as it is.
Yeahhhhhh...yeah
“Let me pay for yours.” I butt him out of the way at the register. “Since you drove us here.” “No, it was nothing. I’ll pay.” But I swipe my credit card before he can.
Im gonna puke
“I thought about it,” I say. “What?” “It’s not persona. And the speaker isn’t William, either. It’s Will.” His Adam’s apple bobs and his jaw tightens, blink-and-you’d-miss-it. He takes half a step toward me and reaches for my wrist, gentle, feather-light. “Do you want it to be Will?” he murmurs. I feel like I can’t breathe, like all the heat in my body is concentrated at my wrist, where his thumb meets his pointer. I try not to blink. I am twenty-one years old again, that afternoon at Middlebury imprinted in the blueprints of every movement I make. And he seems to know the effect he’s having
...more
This is so hot
She’s easily persuaded and launches into a detailed account of her team’s daily stand-up,
War flashbacks
He’s wearing black pants and a white billowy shirt and he looks like a nineteenth-century poet, which is to say, he looks extremely attractive.
Something about a man in a white billowy top. We have lost true art these days
“Everything I know about the city comes from Gossip Girl,
She has good taste
Even as a little kid, with no sibling to play house with, I’d puncture the white noise of my bedroom with long, whispered conversations between Barbie and Ken—some tangled drama about who got to drive the pink convertible.
Omg girl same!!!
I’m assaulted by the smell of basil.
One can not be "assaulted" by the smell of basil. One can be "overcome" by the sweet aroma of basil though
While everyone else asks for a performance, some heightened version of what I’m offering, Will just asks me to be more myself.
BECAUSE MAYBE JUST MAYBE YOU TWO WOULD WORK LONG TERM AND HE ISNT JUST AN OPPOSITES ATTRACT SCENARIO
I suppose it’s the classic confidence of the white, straight literary man. Must be nice.
I am growing very tired of her "white male" excuses
“I don’t remember ever saying to you that your words were a mirror.” He’s fidgety, like he can’t balance himself right on solid ground. “Maybe you just don’t remember.”
Bruh is this not what he just said??
I take a step closer to him and trail my hand across his shoulder. My heart beats faster and faster and I should really just say it, the words, the ones swishing through my chest every day for the last six months. So I do. “Will you marry me?”
Flabberghasted doesnt even begin to describe the way im feeling rn. Girl...
