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“I may be completely out of line saying this, but anyone who marries that woman can’t be worthy of you.”
If he wants to procreate with that witch and create a gaggle of little witches, that’s his business, not yours.”
“When life hands you lemons, you don’t make lemonade. That’s for pantywaisters. No. You pucker up, suck them dry, then throw the used rinds back in life’s face with a giant fuck-you and a gesture for more.”
But the thing she doesn’t understand yet is she’s always had that place. She always will. With me.
Fireflies. I love fireflies. Used to catch jarfuls of them when I was a kid. Then I would release them the next day because I felt bad living while they slowly died.
“It’s the way I’ve imagined you looking at me my entire life, Maverick.”
“Hey,” I say. I see her glassy blues peak through her lashes. “I guess you’ll get good use of that sex swing then.” When she laughs a tiny tear rolls down her cheek. “And then when you’re done, he can just tip you upside down and let you ferment a while.”
She has a carpet rake, for God’s sake. A. Carpet. Rake. Who rakes their fucking carpet? It’s carpet.
“You should have left me with Robbie Reams. At least he had the balls to take what he wanted.”
“I want to kiss these fucking lips, Maverick. And not a kiss of a boy who has been friends with a girl for almost thirty years. But as a lover. I want to bite and suck and own and devour. Whenever I want. However I want.”
Maybe I’ve always felt more for him than I realized. It was just buried underneath the impenetrable cloak of another man.
afternoon fuck in the Casey’s bathroom.
“I like to think we all end up in the place we’re supposed to be eventually,” Sheila answers wistfully. “The sum total of our choices carries us to our destiny.”
Fifth Harmony’s
the ancient texts
“Jesus fucking Christ, Maverick! I know everything and I still don’t care. That’s how much I love you. That’s how wound around the very fucking center of my soul you are. It’s the same place you’ll be until I close my eyes and take my last breath. You are rooted in here”—he pounds his chest—“in the bowels of me so far I will never be rid of you. No matter how much I’ve tried. No matter how much I wanted to while I knew you were with him.” His voice cracks. He stops. Pants. Pins me with a look that devastates me but not more than his confession or the tears I now see gleaming. “While he was the
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“Why anything? Why are you here with me? Why do you want me? Why did you marry me?” Please explain it to me, because I just don’t get it. I don’t deserve it. I never have. He simply shakes his head as if I’m the densest person on the planet. “Because I have enough love for the both of us. I always have.”
“The baby was my father’s.”
called ittttt
“Daddy’s alive.”
crying, screaming, throwing up
