Always and Forever, Lara Jean (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #3)

by Jenny Han

I hear sorority girls like to craft.”

My sister and I are both in love at the same time, and we have this thing we can share, and how wonderful is that!

It’s the kind of memory I like best—more of a feeling than an actual remembrance. The hum of a memory, blurry around the edges, soft and nothing particularly special, all kind of blending into one moment.

Peter leans over the edge, looking across the water to the city. “Can’t you picture us living here after college? We could live in a skyscraper. With a doorman. And a gym.” “I don’t want to live in a skyscraper. I want to live in a brownstone in the West Village. Near a bookstore.”

I wish guys could wear tuxedos more often, though I suppose that would take some of the thrill away.

THE END OF SCHOOL ALWAYS has a particular feeling to it. It’s the same every year, but this year the feeling is amplified, because there won’t be a next year.

“I’m sure William and Mary has good-looking guys too.”

I will miss these house sounds when I’m gone. A part of me is already homesick for them. Another part of me is so, so excited to take this next step, and I never thought I would be, not after things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped.

It snuck up on me—growing up, I mean.

Suddenly it feels like every decision we make is so momentous, and I’m so scared to make the wrong one.

I can see the future, Peter. That way lies heartbreak. I won’t do it. Better to part while we can still see each other in a certain way.

I thought we’d have more time, me and Chris in my bedroom, sharing secrets late into the night, eating chips in bed. I wanted to cement our friendship before she left: Lara Jean and Chrissy, like the old days. It’s all ending.

Even if we see each other again, it won’t be like this.

Families shrink and expand. All you can really do is be glad for it, glad for each other, for as long as you have each other.

I don’t think there’s any place prettier than Virginia in June.

Things are ending, but they are beginning, too.

We’re still here. It’s not the future yet.

Sometimes I wish we’d met when we were twenty-seven. Twenty-seven sounds like a good age to meet the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. At twenty-seven, you are still young, but hopefully you are well on your way to being the you you want to be.