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What a terrifying possibility, to find yourself so attracted to someone you can’t help but love them.
I must have been a real asshole in a past life, because karma seems bent on punishing me this round. Namely, my inability to moderate myself with those prohibitively expensive root beer gummies that I can only buy from extortionist third-party sellers, and being a total freak for the ginger man-candy of this world, who are of course the most statistically rare of male species.
There he is, rolling with it, being nice. Curse him, this unreasonably nice man.
I just don’t feel like playing normal right now. I feel like being the real Frankie with what I’m starting to suspect is the real Ren.
Books help me feel a bit more connected to a world that often is hard to make sense of. Books are patient with me.
“I’m in liberal arts academia. I’m the worst person to come to for anything practical.”
“Lord help me,” Annie says. “He smiles while reading.”
I think he’s not just a fantastic human. I think you mean something to him.”
Okay, maybe I more than like him. But it’s just carnal, isn’t it? I’m so sexually attracted to that sweet cinnamon roll of a man, it’s crazy.
“Hallelujah, she’s gonna get laid. Then maybe she won’t be so salty at book club.”
“I’d be flattered if someone thought you were with me.”
A dull ache tightens my heart as every alarm goes off inside me. Danger! Danger! You are catching feelings for Ren Bergman.
show people who you really are, and you get the absolute thrill of knowing they love you for you.
“I don’t handle stressful situations well. I get anxious. Overwrought. Histrionic. It’s very Victorian.”
And while most of us like to comfort ourselves with the delusion that love is bliss, it’s not called falling in love for nothing. We love, entranced by the breathtaking view, and we fall, not knowing where we’ll land.
I wish I didn’t see people as guilty until proven innocent. But the past has been a harsh teacher, and its lesson isn’t easily forgotten—I don’t get hurt when I adopt a self-protective outlook.
“We can talk about him now. We’ve passed the Bechdel test.”
“Oh, Frankie,” Annie says wistfully. “You are in trouble.” I sigh as I feel myself smiling back. “Don’t I know it.”
“Men have been objectifying women for millennia. Simply doing my part to settle the score.”
I want to take everything inside her that hurts and put it in my body. I’m big. Solid. Someone like me should have this, not someone like Frankie. It’s unfair. Patently unfair.
“I wouldn’t have minded my coffee delivered by a shirtless Søren, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m tough,” I whisper. He nods. “I know you are.” “I can take care of myself.” “You have,” he says. “You still do. You always will. I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other.”
“You have my heart, Søren Bergman,” she whispers against my neck. “Please, please be careful with it.”
Because I love you, and when we’re healing, we need all the love we can get.”
Stubbornness draws the arrow. Wounded pride aims. Anger fires, fatally accurate. “I never said I loved you.”
“That I deserve love for being exactly who I am,” I admit miserably. “That the person worthy of my love will love all of me.”
“Hey.” Lo squeezes my hand. “Yes, you’re going to be all right. And yes, you can handle this. But guess what?” “What?” She smiles. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
