Oh Shit Quotes

“They were all joking about the party at my place when they walked away. As I uncapped my drink, I noticed Michael was hanging back a bit.
“Got something on your mind?” I called out, gesturing at him with my chin.
He was a good player, he worked hard on the field, and I respected him. I got the feeling, though, that I wasn’t going to like what he wanted to say. I could tell by the hesitation in his face and body language. He probably disagreed with some of the plays I wanted to try tonight and didn’t want to piss me off in fear I would freeze him out on the field.
But I wasn’t like that. I left personal shit in the locker room. There was no room for drama in the game.
He walked back over in front of me as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “I’m not sure I should say anything.”
“Just say it, man. It’s cool.”
“I saw your girl this morning.” He started, and everything in me went cold.
This wasn’t about football. This was personal.
“You looking at Rimmel?” I asked, my voice calm and low.
His eyes widened a little, but he shook his head. “No, man. I probably wouldn’t have known it was her, but she was wearing your hoodie.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“She was in the hall, outside her class,” he said, glancing at me.
He needed to get to the fucking point already. I was losing patience.
“That guy Zach was with her. It looked pretty intense.”
I jerked upright. “What?” I growled.
What the fuck was Rimmel doing with Zach? Why was he talking to her?
“He was grabbing her arm. Jerking her around pretty good.”
Red tinged my vision and adrenaline started pumping in my veins. “What did you just say?”
Michael nodded grimly. “It’s why I noticed them. He grabbed her and she cried out. She told him to let go, but he just jerked her more. She almost fell.”
A noise rumbled out of my chest and anger so swift and hot that it hurt filled me. “Tell me you pulled him off her,” I intoned.
“I was going to. I called out to them and started forward, but that’s when he let her go and walked away.”
I was going to kill him.
Dead.
“I asked her if she was okay. I don’t think she knew I’m on the team with you.”
“Probably not,” I muttered, still trying to control the anger spiraling out of control inside me.
“She said she was.” He continued, but I heard the doubt in his voice.
“But?” The word came out harsher than I intended, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“But her wrist was pretty red. Looked like it was going to bruise.”
Thought ceased in my head. Rationality evaporated. “Thanks for telling me,” I said and rushed away in the opposite direction of my next class.”
― Cambria Hebert, #Hater

“I don’t love you,’ he says. ‘Not anymore. And never, ever again.”
― Paige Toon, Baby Be Mine

“Cut the bullshit. Your little ingénue act---it's pathetic."
Her words sock me like a punch in the gut. As much as I hate lying to her face, as much as I've been dying to tell her the truth, to have it out once and for all in a big, messy fight, I'm not sure I'm ready for this. The steely look in her eyes, the tightness of her jaw---she'll crush me.
"Okay. Fine," I say, the courage building inside me. I can do this. I have to. "Let's cut the bullshit, then." My eyes drift toward her cabinets. "Maybe we should talk over a glass of wine. Unless that would be bad for the baby."
I wait for her to take the bait, but she just stares at me.
"There is a baby, right? You wouldn't make something like that up. Only a crazy person would do that. Only someone who was truly horrible, all the way to her core."
She clenches her jaw. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, I do. And you know it."
"Watch yourself."
"Why? So you can steamroll me like you steamroll everyone? You don't even love him."
"You have no idea how I feel. About anything."
"I know your marriage is one of convenience. That you sleep in separate bedrooms. That you're having an affair with a guy named Jacques."
"And I suppose that makes you an expert on my love life."
"No, but it means I know you don't have Hugh's interests at heart."
"What do you know about his interests? You think you can parachute in, five years into our marriage, and decide you understand how or why any of this works? You think a month or two of screwing means you know more about him than I do?"
"I know he doesn't love you. I know he never did."
"Well, la-di-da. Here's a newsflash: It takes more than love to make a relationship work."
"But you can't really make a relationship work without it, can you?"
"You can if you want to."
"Only if both people do. And Hugh doesn't. Not anymore."
"Is that so? Then tell me, why did he just spend more than a week with me, discussing our future?"
"Because you created a phantom pregnancy without consulting him? Because he's trying to do damage control?"
"Ah, I see. Is that what you keep telling yourself?"
My face grows hot. "It kills you that he'd choose me over you."
She throws her head back and cackles. "Is that what you think? That he'd choose you? Christ, you're even more naive than I thought."
"He loves me," I say. "He said so."
"You know what else he loves? His career. And how do you think you fit in with that? Let me answer for you: You don't."
My hands are shaking. "What about you? You're having an affair with some French guy named Jacques. How do you think that will play with Hugh's constituency? Let me answer for you: Not well.”
― Dana Bate, Too Many Cooks

“How many subscribers do you have left, anyway? Isn't print dying? How long until it's actually dead and you're out of a job?”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“I turn around clumsily, as if wading through water. My brain won’t stop flipping its fins. So Jack’s a physicist—bad. An experimentalist—bad. The experimentalist—bad. He wants to hire some George dude—bad. He knows me as a librarian his brother’s dating—bad. He never liked me—bad. He thinks I made up my Ph.D.—badder—and am conning MIT into hiring me—baddest.”
― Ali Hazelwood