More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
On the eighth night, the girl gave the boy her heart. He took it silently, never offering his back.
It’s the indisputable, international I’m-a-douchebag badge, and it occurs to me, for the hundredth time since we moved in together freshman year of college, that if I hadn’t known him since age ten, I would probably find him as sexually attractive as a gassy rat.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. Now, I’m pretty sure I’d be a top in jail, not a bottom, but still—not really into dudes. So, yes?”
“You’ll still get free rent, but for as long as you’re my fake girlfriend, I’ll also pay the bills. You’ll get free access to my truck—anytime you want. Last but not least: you’ll get me. All of me. No other women. No distractions. No games. Just you and me, JoJo. Because it’s always been the two of us, and it’s time we act this way, even if only for a little while.”
“Call yourself my daddy one more time and I’m fishing your eyeballs out with a spoon.”
Me: I hope you mean it. Sage: I hope you know it. Speak soon x
And it occurred to me, out of fucking nowhere, that I’d rather die than see you with someone else who holds the potential to give you the things that you need. It occurred to me that I would never be able to be happy for you if you married someone else.
“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you. No matter what happens in my life, you’re the constant thing I can count on. The shelter in the storm, the calm in my chaos.”
“I love you, brave girl.”
The girl got a kiss on the lips from the boy who no longer howled at the moon and cried on a tree. On the forehead. Like friends do. Then he kissed her on the lips, like lovers do. Then he kissed the inside of her wrists, like soulmates do.
