Slow Dance

by Rainbow Rowell

His tongue was in his cheek—that seemed like a bad sign. (The phrase “tongue in cheek” should really mean “pissed off and thinking something hurtful.”)

“Aren’t we always making memories?” “No,” Cary said. “The brain makes note of novelty. Broken patterns. The more we do the same things, the more they blend together.”

Then he kissed her like he’d been thinking about it all night—like maybe he’d been thinking about it for fifteen years.

“It won’t be easy with anyone—it may as well be ‘not easy’ with someone you love.”