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Almost every single felt like they lived in the worst city to date in. In reality, it was . . . everywhere. Everywhere and everything was terrible and on fire and if you did meet someone you clicked with, you could chalk it up to pure timing and luck.
She’d initially referred to Samson as #BeachDick, but #BeachBastard had alliteration going for it.
He’d chased her in that ballroom.
When he’d pushed inside her, he’d leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“You send gifts to everyone who sends their success story in to Crush. Wedding and engagement and civil union and housewarming and baby gifts.”
“Sometimes, good people make mistakes. It costs you nothing to hear someone out.”
You never knew when you were being recorded, so when you knew you were being recorded, you acted right.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had to give a succinct explanation of what a fuckboy is, and I’m pretty sure the phrase has hugely evolved since it first came into general modern usage.”
“Ugh. Fucking hate the Brewers.” “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Rhiannon closed her eyes, enjoying this. Nobody spoke enough about how much bodies could be starved for platonic affection.
Almost a decade later, he could vividly recall the bolt of fear that had run through him at the news, the trauma of his father’s decline far too fresh.
“I don’t know how I would have dealt with being an only child.” “My parents made sure I was never too lonely.”
The energy shift between them was seamless, from comforting and pained to needy and lustful.
dangerous hope
Fool. Didn’t he know? Of course not, how could he. She pressed down on his shoulders. “Rest on me. I like it.” His breath panted against her neck. “I’m too heavy.”
“No such thing.” She tugged at him, and he finally complied, relaxing on top of her, shoving her into the expensive mattress. Ah yes. She felt completely covered and hugged and smushed. She loved it.
Was Janet sweet and loyal and kind?
He’d donned his boxers and was scratching his beautiful, perfect, smooth chest.
He scowled. Scratched his belly.
He rubbed his finger over his lip, trying and failing not to smile.
It was like someone had sucked every ounce of charm out of Samson, leaving only an automaton.
He stripped out of his clothes first, and the sight of all that tan, smooth flesh made her mouth water.
She’d picked Harvard because she’d had a photo of her father visiting the campus. She’d liked to imagine, when she walked across the grounds, that she was retracing steps her dad had once taken.
Be like the Europeans about past lovers, that’s what I always say.”
What will you do with all our men?” Castrate and murder them.
The people I loved, I chose wisely. When I did reach out, they were right there.
Were there cameras? Was she going to pin roses on their lapels?
“What just happened?” Peter wheezed.
And he couldn’t do it when he also felt a little angry with her. For turning on him, on them, so easily.
He cracked his knuckles in agitation.
“Being vulnerable is a risk. Love—romantic, platonic, familial, it doesn’t matter what kind of love—is a risk.” She closed her eyes tight, tears leaking out. “Because you’re right. They can leave. They can die or be hurt or simply walk away.” Her eyes opened. “But a moment of that love, child, is worth it. If you have a second, a minute, a month, a year, a decade with that person? You count yourself lucky. You can use that love and the lessons it taught you to plant more seeds for love. You can live off that love for a lifetime.
“Well, if it’s helped, that’s great, but I wouldn’t advise you to use every snippet I said to you as a child in your adult life.
Sweet, kind, loyal. The girl had been a kindergarten teacher, for crying out loud,
“No one’s universally liked. Beyoncé isn’t universally liked. Has that stopped her? No. Be like Beyoncé.”
People who made penetrative intercourse the whole and sole point of sex really missed so much. This was as intimate and pleasurable as being inside her.
He decided her breasts looked cold and cupped one.
“I’ll probably love you soon.”
