Amelia C. Gormley > Amelia's Quotes

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
― Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

“1. Bullying is not okay. Period.

2. Freedom of religion does not give you the right to physically or verbally assault people.

3. If your sincerely-held religious beliefs require you to bully children, then your beliefs are fucked up.”
― Jim C. Hines

“Freedom of speech does not protect you from the consequences of saying stupid shit.

[Blog post, March 12, 2012]”
― Jim C. Hines

“The haunting and haunted remnants of an abandoned world. And in Darius’s arms each night, when reason returned and they lay together, drained and weary, Rhys decided there was something inescapably beautiful about the fact that they made these memories in ruined places.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Strain

“I don’t need you to be perfect. I don’t need you to never make mistakes. I just need you to let me give you as much of myself as I can, and to trust that I will try as hard as possible never to hurt you intentionally. Can you do that? Can you just let me love you?”
― Amelia C. Gormley

“I don’t know your story, and I’m not going to ask for any more than you want to give. But I know, I can just tell from the way you act, that people have tried to take things from you, tried to take you from you. They tried to take away something amazing, something that deserves more, something that wants to shine. I see it. I see the part they never managed to steal, no matter how hard they tried…Your soul,” he whispered, answering the unspoken inquiry.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Good thing about hanging out with a pregnant woman: designated driver by default.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Inertia

“Whatever happened after, even the loss, my life would be less if I had not had that. On the day I die, my only regret would be if I hadn't had it. If I had been too much a coward to take it while I had a chance.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Inertia

“Well, I guess I don't say much, unless I've got something to say. Makes me not a lot of fun at parties. I'm really not great with small talk."

Gavin shrugged. "A lot of people feel like they have to fill every silence with noise, no matter how meaningless. I think it's interesting to find someone who isn't afraid of a little quiet.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Inertia

“I don’t know if I’ll ever go through with it. I’m just too much of a perfectionist, I guess.
I’d rather be nothing than be middle-of-the-road.”
She hugged me tightly.
“You’re not middle-of-the-road, Topher. You’re fast lane, all the way. You just, you know, need to find the right car.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Don’t you see, angel?”
His arms tightened around me. “You’re still on your feet.
You may hate yourself for every little mistake you make, but
the fact that you’ve survived means you’ve come out on top. It
might not be a perfect victory, but those are really, really rare.
Every day you stand up and face life again is a win.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“The sky should be the limit for
you right now, angel.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“So, okay. He was basically an amalgamation of every redheaded man to ever turn my crank (and how!). And he lived in a popular gay resort town, which meant the chances were above average that he might actually be interested. Watching him trot lightly down those stairs to the beach, I realized what my objective this summer would be.
Agent Carlisle, your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to find out which of these residences belongs to Mr. Strawberry-Blond Hunka Burnin’ Love and convince him to do you on every horizontal surface—and against a few of the vertical ones.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“I shrugged uncomfortably, leaning my head against hers, almost forgetting Mr. Gardner’s presence as Mo and I fell into that sort of exclusionary, near-telepathic best-friends communion. She knew that I would argue that I wasn’t ashamed, but that I hadn’t quite figured out how to truly mean it when I held my head up high. My entire life, people had been telling me to keep it down and stop being an embarrassment. So, I was still in that “fake it ’til you make it” stage, hoping genuine pride would come if I pretended confidence long enough. For now, I was relying on bravado and a complete lack of give-a-fuck to carry me through.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Ew. Can you not talk about my dad ogling people? Scarlett Johansson may be gorgeous, but still.”
“It’ll be a challenge, but I think I can refrain from licking the screen,” Brendan deadpanned, placing the wine bottle on the coffee table next to the bowl of popcorn before settling into the chair where he’d been working on his computer earlier.
“Ew! Dad!”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Unable to come up with any tactful response, I decided to go for honesty instead.
“That sounds like a lot of fun, Mr. G—Brendan. But, um . . . I’m kind of trying to get out to, you know, meet people.”
With my dick. I left that part unspoken.
“Meet— Oh.” Enlightenment dawned. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. Then his ears turned red. “Meet people. Right. Yeah, you probably don’t want me around for that.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“I wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d be down with the makeup.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, propping a hip against the table to sip his beer. “Why wear it, then?”

I stepped closer, enough so that if he’d parted his knees a little bit, I could have pressed right up flush against him. I brushed my lips along his jaw, somewhere between a kiss and a nuzzle, not quite either.

“Because I didn’t wear it for you.”
I could swear I heard a soft groan escape his throat under the bass of the music, and then his knees did inch apart a bit more, his hands settling more firmly on my hips again to draw me closer until we were eye-to-eye and crotch-to-crotch. We gasped in unison at the friction of that first electric contact.

“And that is why you’re so fucking hot,” he rasped. Our mouths were a breath apart and he could have kissed me, or I could have kissed him. But we didn’t. We just breathed together, savoring that madly intense moment of perfect wanting. After a moment he stepped back and led me to the dance floor.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“I knew what I had to do. I had to find some way to make us not hate ourselves or each other for what we’d done. If we slunk away, miserable and ashamed, the wrong was all we would remember for the rest of our lives. We would never remember the kindness and gentle affection of those first few weeks of slowly building friendship that had sprung up between us, and suddenly it seemed imperative that we not lose sight of that. We, together, were more than this one mistake. Yes, this was a category-5 shitstorm, a disaster of behemoth proportions, and it was going to leave a metric fuck-ton of emotional debris scattered in its wake, but before everything had gone off the rails, there had been some good, too, and I didn’t want that obliterated by the bad.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Are you kidding? If Archer McLovelyArms wants you to spend the whole weekend, you go, girl. Get you some.”

She snorted. “His name’s Cody Rey.”

I quirked an eyebrow, even though she wasn’t there, and for the first time in the entire conversation, banter didn’t feel forced.

“You sure he’s an archer? Sounds more like a gunslinger. Just what exactly is he packing?”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Confused, I followed Robin into the back room, where he began sorting through carefully wrapped canvases that hadn’t been stored in the vertical racks lining the wall yet. Finally he located three large portrait-sized ones and propped them against a wall, lined up in a row like a triptych. Then he stripped off the coverings.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, staring at myself.

Well, it was me, yet not really. I mean, clearly it was, but not anything like I’d ever seen myself.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“The first one, with a wispy background that suggested feathers, gave the impression of an angelic figure with my face, dark skin contrasting with the soft, golden lighting. I gleamed with a subtle gilt shimmer and my eyes both laughed and burned. I looked eager and innocent, and maybe a little nervous, as I lay on the bed awaiting an unknown lover.

The second was darker, as though hours had passed since the first and the sun had set. I looked lazy, heavy-lidded, debauched. A slightly smug smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. One very satisfied fallen angel.

The last one made my throat ache a little. The background was lighter again, this time touched with pink over the gold, as if the night was over and an unseen sun was rising. I sprawled on the bed like I was near collapse, limp, dazed, exhausted. Love-bites speckled my throat and finger-shaped bruises darkened my wrists and hips. Not only had the angel fallen, he’d been utterly and completely wrecked, in the best possible way.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“If I ignored the eyes, I would think the subject of the painting was ready to fall into a contented sleep. But the eyes ruined that illusion. They were wide open, and too old, too deep, too knowing for the age of the angel. They were the eyes of someone who’d seen way too much pain and ugliness. Cautious. Vulnerable. Soft. Sad. Full of wistful yearning.

It wasn’t the narrative of that carefree and passionate night I’d spent with Jace, not as I recalled it. And yet it was, from sundown to sunrise, told in stages.

They were gorgeous paintings, but what sort of impression must I have left on Jace for him to see me like that? They weren’t me. Not me at all. The semi-angelic young man in those paintings was idealized beyond all recognition, someone mythical and amazing, and that wasn’t me. I was just Topher, the fucked-up kid who was betraying his best friend by making her dad an adulterer, the kid who would probably never finish college and who couldn’t seem to achieve anything more than mediocrity in anything he pursued.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“That’s not really your business, is it?” I snapped, doing that going-on-the-offense thing I do when I panic. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me working for you.”

Bravado for the win.

He crossed his arms over his chest and one corner of his mouth lifted. “You think you’re the only young gay man who’s ever been there?”

I scoffed, looking pointedly around the pretty, expensive art gallery perfectly suited to this well-heeled vacation town. “You’re doing okay for yourself.”

“Yeah, I am. I got fucking lucky. Some of my friends didn’t, though, and they’re dead now. Killed by fag bashers, overdoses, or suicide. Infected with HIV they got peddling their asses on the streets. You don’t know me, Topher, and you don’t know what I’ve seen in the years it took me to become the man I am now. But I know you. You might be all alone, but you’re sure as fuck not unique. And right now, I think I’m looking at you standing on life’s big old chess board, and you’re about two moves in any direction from being one of the ones who ends up in a bad place.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Then of course, I meet you and I realize you’re the same guy in those paintings, and that young man in the paintings is a lot of things, but scared isn’t one of them. So I’m guessing whatever it is, it’s a recent thing. Maybe something going on right now. And I’m guessing you’ve never had a gay adult in your life—someone who’s seen a lot of what we face and the sorts of mistakes we make because of it, and knows how to navigate it all. At least, not one who went that extra step and took you in hand and said, you’re not alone.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I was not going to start bawling in front of this nosy, presumptuous asshole. I wasn’t.

So I blew up instead.

“Well, kum-ba-fucking-yah!” I flung myself up from the table, beyond caring that I was pretty much torpedoing my only chance at employment. This chucklenuts had started it. “Great! I’m not alone. Except maybe I want to be alone, hm? Maybe I should be alone, didya think of that when you were looking in your crystal ball, Madame Sees-All-Knows-All? Maybe I’ve done something so monumentally fucking stupid that the only possible outcome is for me to wind up alone because that’s exactly what I fucking deserve.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Of course, to my utter mortification, he looked amused. I half-expected him to start golf clapping.

“Ooh, epic bitch fit! I give it five stars. Haven’t seen one that good in forever, and I live in a town full of queens, so that’s saying something. Now, if you’ve got that out of your system, sit your ass down and let’s talk.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“My forehead hit the table again with a thud. Ow. The words left me in a rush.

“I’m-fucking-the-married-closeted-father-of-my-only-close-friend-in-the-entire-world-and-his-wife-is-going-to-be-here-in-two-weeks.”

I heard the hiss as Robin sucked his breath in between his teeth. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” I sighed, my forehead rubbing against the table as I nodded miserably. At least he didn’t try to deny the idiotic part.

“You know there’s absolutely no way that can end well.”

“Duh.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“What is it? What is it?!” I began dumping clothes out of the dresser drawers, snatching them on as quickly as I could before hauling my suitcase and large duffel out of the closet. I would not cry. I would not cry! “Brendan, what was the only fucking thing I asked from you that first night? Do you remember?”

He blinked, scrubbing a hand through his tousled hair. “You . . . you asked me to respect you. Which I do, I’m just trying to—”

“Oh, really?” I gave him a derisive sneer as I threw wadded clothes into my bags and began slamming about, looking for odds and ends I might have missed. “That’s what you call this? You offer to put me up like your personal rent-boy in some no-tell motel and promise to drop by every few days for a booty call while your wife’s in town, and you think that’s not demeaning? Well, fuck you.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“I never asked you to take care of me! This? This is exactly what I didn’t want. You promised me . . .” I shook my head, my eyes burning as I turned my attention back to packing. I jerked the zipper of my suitcase so hard I’m surprised I didn’t pull the damn tab off. “Let’s be honest, hm? You’re not trying to take care of me, you’re trying to take care of you. You want to have your respectable, white-bread, married, straight family life as well as your faggy brown boy toy on the side, and seriously? Fuck that shit. I trusted you, Brendan! I trusted you to respect me enough not to pull something like this, not to try to keep me dangling along so you could have it both ways without giving up anything.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Yeah, well there’s your first problem. You don’t get it. You can’t even see what you did. You’re going to sit here today and you’re going to convince yourself that you were right and I was unreasonable and you won’t even think about what you just tried to make me into. But hey....It’s not my problem, now. You think what you want. I’m gone.”

He sighed and reached for my suitcase. “Will you at least let me help you down the stairs?”

“Fuck off.” I’d rather break my neck than let him give me a second of assistance.

“Topher, come on!” Now he sounded annoyed and seriously, fuck him, he didn’t get to be pissy over this. I turned around and gave him a withering look.

“Be sure you clear the lube out of the bedside table before you bang your wife in that room. It’s a dead giveaway.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer

“Well, look at it this way,” Robin reasoned as I sat with him and Geoff at their kitchen table that night, half-plastered from the pitcher of margarita they’d blended up. Was I going to have a tequila hangover in the morning? Oh, honey, you bet your sweet ass I was. And how many fucks did I give?

Not a one.

“Even if you were overreacting to read what you read into this guy’s offer—which I don’t think you were, though I doubt he actually thought it through enough to intend it to be read that way—you still have to ask yourself: What’s in it for you, hanging around some motel room waiting for a married man to make a booty call? What benefit would you get out of that situation, or out of prolonging your relationship with him? He might not have meant it to be an insulting offer, but it was absolutely a one hundred percent selfish offer. There was no upside for you whatsoever, unless the sex really was just that amazing.”
― Amelia C. Gormley, Saugatuck Summer