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“Sometimes in interviews they ask you what superpower you’d like to have. I used to choose being able to read people’s minds. Then Facebook happened, and I got over that.”
Little butterflies flapped around inside
“The point is to see if we like each other. What we have right here is supposed to be about having fun and getting to know someone. Maybe even falling in love. And we can experience intimacy that has nothing to do with the physical. It’s about you and I feeling safe enough to be open and vulnerable with each other. Being honest and sharing pieces of ourselves. That’s what I’m looking for right now. Someone I can connect
with on a different level than I have in the past. I’m still in.”
Oh, sure. Zia got kisses. And I got scripts.
“Zoe. I’d never let you fall.” As I slipped my hand in his, I knew he was wrong. It was too late. I was already falling.
“Kiss” felt like a poor description of the way he ravaged my mouth.
I thought I understood what kissing should be like. I was seriously mistaken. Because no one had ever kissed me like this before. Not with this hot, hungry intensity. Not with this confidence, this surety, this level of skill. Like somebody would be grading him later on how well he kissed me, and he planned on getting an A.
I’d been right. I knew that if Chase burned, I’d be consumed. We were like two bonfires edging closer together, merging into one super fire, glowing hotter and brighter in the night.
“Don’t be. You set your boundaries and made them clear. I just really want to cross them.”
There was just something about being with him that felt right. Made me feel safe. As if I had figured out where I really belonged.
The problem with fire-playing is that it ends when people got burned.
My grandma always told me not to hate people, so I knew I shouldn’t hate Amelia Swan, but if she were on fire and I had a glass of water, I would drink it.
I didn’t know a worse pain than heartbreak.
Grief and loss were the cost of love, and I didn’t want to pay it. But the bill had come due, and I didn’t have a choice.
“He forgot to be a hero.” Yep. He’d put the damsel in distress instead of trying to rescue her.
“I want to remember the happy times,” I said. “But all I can remember is when he hurt me. Why is that?” “Probably because happiness doesn’t leave scars.”
