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Roomies Quotes
Roomies
by
Lindy Zart6,079 ratings, 3.61 average rating, 538 reviews
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Roomies Quotes
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“Your father...isn't good with emotions.” “Yeah. Figured that out a while ago.” Like, when I was four and cried because our family cat died and he offered to have it stuffed as a means to make me feel better. It didn't.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“You look good there.”
“Where?”
“In my bed.”
Duuuuude.
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 110). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“Where?”
“In my bed.”
Duuuuude.
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 110). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“Something you want to tell me?"
"Um...your scrub top's on inside out?"
"What?" He glances down. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I shrug. "It was funny.”
― Roomies
"Um...your scrub top's on inside out?"
"What?" He glances down. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I shrug. "It was funny.”
― Roomies
“A good thing about being so close to someone is that they know you so well. A bad thing about being so close to someone is that they know you so well.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“Maybe I’m a little callous, a little insensitive, a little self-centered, but hey, that’s how I roll.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“I'm going to go see if Graham needs first aid.” Or mouth to mouth. It is my civic duty.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“You know what is so appealing about you, in a twisted, messed up kind of way?"
"What's that?"
"You have no idea how tactless you are."
"Well. I have some idea," I grumble.”
― Roomies
"What's that?"
"You have no idea how tactless you are."
"Well. I have some idea," I grumble.”
― Roomies
“Your crazy makes my crazy make sense.”
“That makes absolutely no sense at all.”
“Exactly.”
“So... you love me? Like, love me like you want me to have your babies.”
I grin, knowing that'll spook him. He is exceptionally mature about it , only going a little white.
“Yeah. Like that. What about you?”
“I don't want you to have my babies. Men aren't cut out for that. Wimps.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 212). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“That makes absolutely no sense at all.”
“Exactly.”
“So... you love me? Like, love me like you want me to have your babies.”
I grin, knowing that'll spook him. He is exceptionally mature about it , only going a little white.
“Yeah. Like that. What about you?”
“I don't want you to have my babies. Men aren't cut out for that. Wimps.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 212). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“You should probably go to the doctor for that.”
He rolls his eyes, stealing a bottle of water from the refrigerator and uncapping it.
“Doctors are overrated.”
“Yeah, funeral directors too.”
He pauses with the bottle halfway to his mouth, bewilderment filtering through his eyes. “I don't understand half of what you say.”
“Well, at least you understand the other half of it. There's hope for you yet. I mean, at least a fifty-fifty chance, right?”
His eyes brighten. “There she is. 'Bout time you woke up. Good morning, Kennedy.”
I mutter something that may or may not come out sounding like, “Fuck off,” and stomp into the living room to await what is guaranteed to be an outstanding day. I can feel the awesomeness ahead.
Graham follows me, flipping a light switch and burning my eyes. “Did you just tell Blake to fuck off?”
“I can't remember. It was so long ago.”
I close my eyes and flop onto my back on the couch, hoping when I open my eyes it will be tomorrow.
He frowns. “You never say fuck.”
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed.”
“Maybe you should fu—”
A hand claps over my mouth, and I look up, finding twinkling eyes on me.
“You're cute when you're upset.”
I lick his hand and he yelps as he yanks it back.
“Really, Kennedy?”
I smirk, finally feeling halfway decent.
“Really. Carry me to the truck, servant.”
The quiet grows, which makes me think he ignored me and left the room, but then I am being tossed over a shoulder. I begin to protest— loudly.
“Graham! Put me down. This is no way to treat your roommate.”
A hand smacks my rear and I jerk at the sting that comes.
“Licking hands is no way to treat your roommate either. You wanted to be carried to the truck. I'm carrying you. Blake,” he calls. “Let's go.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (pp. 159-160). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
He rolls his eyes, stealing a bottle of water from the refrigerator and uncapping it.
“Doctors are overrated.”
“Yeah, funeral directors too.”
He pauses with the bottle halfway to his mouth, bewilderment filtering through his eyes. “I don't understand half of what you say.”
“Well, at least you understand the other half of it. There's hope for you yet. I mean, at least a fifty-fifty chance, right?”
His eyes brighten. “There she is. 'Bout time you woke up. Good morning, Kennedy.”
I mutter something that may or may not come out sounding like, “Fuck off,” and stomp into the living room to await what is guaranteed to be an outstanding day. I can feel the awesomeness ahead.
Graham follows me, flipping a light switch and burning my eyes. “Did you just tell Blake to fuck off?”
“I can't remember. It was so long ago.”
I close my eyes and flop onto my back on the couch, hoping when I open my eyes it will be tomorrow.
He frowns. “You never say fuck.”
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed.”
“Maybe you should fu—”
A hand claps over my mouth, and I look up, finding twinkling eyes on me.
“You're cute when you're upset.”
I lick his hand and he yelps as he yanks it back.
“Really, Kennedy?”
I smirk, finally feeling halfway decent.
“Really. Carry me to the truck, servant.”
The quiet grows, which makes me think he ignored me and left the room, but then I am being tossed over a shoulder. I begin to protest— loudly.
“Graham! Put me down. This is no way to treat your roommate.”
A hand smacks my rear and I jerk at the sting that comes.
“Licking hands is no way to treat your roommate either. You wanted to be carried to the truck. I'm carrying you. Blake,” he calls. “Let's go.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (pp. 159-160). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“I want you. And I am not a needy man, but even I will admit that I need you. My life is so much better with you in it. It took a while for me to see why and I'm sorry about that. Sometimes it's hard to see what you have when, in your mind, the possibility of losing it is never a thought.” He pauses, smiling. “Your crazy makes my crazy make sense.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“He so must have male PMS. And it really does exist 'cause I glanced at an article about it online once.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“Being an adult doesn't mean you're suddenly stuffy and boring—it just means you're a little more responsible, a little more considerate. Well, that's my definition of what being an adult means. And I'm always right, so, ya know, that's what it is.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“If people care about you, they won’t give up on you, no matter what you’ve done in the past or what you do in the future.
We aren’t programmed that way. We’re made to find hope in the most hopeless of places and in the people that seem the least likely to deserve it, because they really need it the most, and something in us knows that, at least subconsciously.
It’s what makes us human. No one is unworthy. Not even you. If people want to have faith in you, let them. And really, you can’t stop them. It’s not up to you.”
― Roomies
We aren’t programmed that way. We’re made to find hope in the most hopeless of places and in the people that seem the least likely to deserve it, because they really need it the most, and something in us knows that, at least subconsciously.
It’s what makes us human. No one is unworthy. Not even you. If people want to have faith in you, let them. And really, you can’t stop them. It’s not up to you.”
― Roomies
“Your crazy makes my crazy make sense.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 212). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 212). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“What are you doing?” I finally ask.
“I'm serenading you.”
I slowly nod, fiddling with the strap of my tank top as I say,
“You know those people that naturally sing really well and you could listen to them for hours and hours?”
“Yeah.” I look up.
“You're not one of them.”
His lips twitch. “Isn't it about effort?”
“Not with singing, no. It's about talent. You don't have it.”
“I love you.”
“That's not going to make you sound any better.”
Laughing, he reaches for me and pulls me to his lap.
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 218). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“I'm serenading you.”
I slowly nod, fiddling with the strap of my tank top as I say,
“You know those people that naturally sing really well and you could listen to them for hours and hours?”
“Yeah.” I look up.
“You're not one of them.”
His lips twitch. “Isn't it about effort?”
“Not with singing, no. It's about talent. You don't have it.”
“I love you.”
“That's not going to make you sound any better.”
Laughing, he reaches for me and pulls me to his lap.
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 218). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“Roomie Rule #1: Never put a gallon of milk back in the fridge when there is only an inch of milk left in it. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #2: Do not put a knife in the peanut butter and then use the same knife in the jelly. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #3: The television must be on football if football is on the television. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #4: Use your own razor. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #5: Any chocolate in the apartment belongs to Kennedy, regardless of who bought it. (Mine)
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 169). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
Roomie Rule #2: Do not put a knife in the peanut butter and then use the same knife in the jelly. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #3: The television must be on football if football is on the television. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #4: Use your own razor. (Graham's)
Roomie Rule #5: Any chocolate in the apartment belongs to Kennedy, regardless of who bought it. (Mine)
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 169). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“I'm competing, Kennedy,” he breathes against my neck. “And I'm going to win.”
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 154). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
Zart, Lindy (2014-11-20). Roomies (p. 154). . Kindle Edition.”
― Roomies
“It’s funny how just the right words, or maybe it’s not the words at all, but the person saying them, can make all the difference between self-loathing and understanding of oneself.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“why would someone request that their toenails be painted at a podiatrist's? Hot pink, even. We are not a salon. When I told the guy that, he got really irate and left.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“He leans against the door frame, one hand tightly clasping the two ends of his towel together. Pity, that.”
― Roomies
― Roomies
“She throws away the inedible toast and looks at me, her blue eyes sad. “I'm a bad cook.”
My first inclination is to say, “You're just realizing this now?”, but I don't. Instead I shrug. “You're good at a lot of other things.”
“I can't crochet either.”
I purse my lips to keep from agreeing. “Well...you—”
“And I can't sing. I don't even remember the shade of my natural hair color and I've had this outfit since the eighties.”
I glance at her red top and tan pants. Yeah. Those should really go—along with a lot of other things in the house. “You're sort of making it hard for me to make you feel better when you keep tossing all the things you aren't good at, at me.” I brighten. “You can dance! You're a great dancer.”
“I'm having a mid-life crisis.”
“You're forty-six,” I scoff. “You're too young for that. I mean, maybe in four years...”
― Roomies
My first inclination is to say, “You're just realizing this now?”, but I don't. Instead I shrug. “You're good at a lot of other things.”
“I can't crochet either.”
I purse my lips to keep from agreeing. “Well...you—”
“And I can't sing. I don't even remember the shade of my natural hair color and I've had this outfit since the eighties.”
I glance at her red top and tan pants. Yeah. Those should really go—along with a lot of other things in the house. “You're sort of making it hard for me to make you feel better when you keep tossing all the things you aren't good at, at me.” I brighten. “You can dance! You're a great dancer.”
“I'm having a mid-life crisis.”
“You're forty-six,” I scoff. “You're too young for that. I mean, maybe in four years...”
― Roomies
“Yeah, I'm confused about the whole thing."
One corner of his mouth quirks up.
"And don't you dare say it doesn't take make for that to happen. Or something similar," I warn.
"I would never," he states, putting a hand over his heart.
"You're so full of it.”
― Roomies
One corner of his mouth quirks up.
"And don't you dare say it doesn't take make for that to happen. Or something similar," I warn.
"I would never," he states, putting a hand over his heart.
"You're so full of it.”
― Roomies
“We go back to our silent fishing, but I'm smiling the whole time. The tension has dimmed. Well, until Blake shoves Graham into the river. A gasp leaves me, my mouth hanging open as I watch my roommate sputter to the surface of the dirty water. I drop my fishing pole, frozen in place.
My dad mutters, “What the hell?”
Blake throws his head back and laughs like I have never seen nor heard him laugh before. The loud and hearty sound is cut off short when Graham comes barreling out of the water, his body aimed straight for him, his eyes daggers of retribution. He lunges for his brother, wrapping his arms around his stomach and heaving him toward the water. Blake stumbles back, landing on his rear just inside the water. The sound of jeans smacking into water is sharp. He swipes water out of his eyes as Graham smirks at him.
“What is wrong with you two?” I demand, more annoyed than worried. They seem to be getting along, even if they are being brutish about it.
Suddenly I have the attention of two wet men, twin calculating gleams in their eyes. Graham is closest, his steps slow and purposeful as he approaches me.
“Don't even think about it.” I put my hands out in front of me to ward him off.
His grin deepens as he reaches me. Water drips from his hair down his face to become one with his soggy clothes. “Don't think about what?”
A glance over my shoulder tells me a tree, the first form of cover I think of, is too far away. Not one to give up, I move for it anyway, but a wet, strong hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me away from where I want to go until I am flush with a cold chest. Cold clothes; warm body, I should say. His skin is burning through the dampness of his shirt.
“Graham, I swear, if you throw me in that water, I will never speak to you again.”
His voice is low and close as he says, “You make it sound like that wouldn't be a good thing.”
I haven't even finished my sound of incredulity before I am gathered into his arms, my arms unconsciously going around his neck to anchor me to him. His touch is gentle, his eyes are smiling.
“I mean it. This won't be good for you.”
“Oh, I don't know about that.” His arms swing out, and I tighten my hold on him, threatening him even as he is laughing at me. He does it again as we move closer to the water and I glare all my irk at him.
“If I go, you go.”
He tilts his head as he studies me. His voice is unnaturally sober as he tells me, “That's fine with me.”
I don't have time to process that before he lets go of me. I hit the water, refusing to let go of his neck, and we both go under. Lucky for me, the water is only a couple feet deep. Unlucky for Graham, I twist around until I am straddling him, keeping him down with my weight so the only thing above water is his head.
I give him a sweet smile. He doesn't return it.
“Hi,” I purr.
He grunts in response.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“What can I say? Where you go, I follow.”
I pat his cheek. “That's so sweet.”
“I'm a sweet guy.”
“So sweet,” I agree.
“Hey! You're scaring the fish away.” This from Blake, who is now standing near my father.
“The fish love me!” I declare, sweeping my arms out wide and losing my balance. I splash into the water, first laughing, and then choking as water goes down my throat.
Graham lifts me out of the water by my shirt. “The weight of your arrogance obviously tipped you over.”
“It was more like the air couldn't handle all my splendor.”
Half of his mouth lifts. “Something like that.”
“Fishing with the three of you is impossible,” Dad grumbles and stomps to the cooler, opening a can of soda and gulping it down”
― Roomies
My dad mutters, “What the hell?”
Blake throws his head back and laughs like I have never seen nor heard him laugh before. The loud and hearty sound is cut off short when Graham comes barreling out of the water, his body aimed straight for him, his eyes daggers of retribution. He lunges for his brother, wrapping his arms around his stomach and heaving him toward the water. Blake stumbles back, landing on his rear just inside the water. The sound of jeans smacking into water is sharp. He swipes water out of his eyes as Graham smirks at him.
“What is wrong with you two?” I demand, more annoyed than worried. They seem to be getting along, even if they are being brutish about it.
Suddenly I have the attention of two wet men, twin calculating gleams in their eyes. Graham is closest, his steps slow and purposeful as he approaches me.
“Don't even think about it.” I put my hands out in front of me to ward him off.
His grin deepens as he reaches me. Water drips from his hair down his face to become one with his soggy clothes. “Don't think about what?”
A glance over my shoulder tells me a tree, the first form of cover I think of, is too far away. Not one to give up, I move for it anyway, but a wet, strong hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me away from where I want to go until I am flush with a cold chest. Cold clothes; warm body, I should say. His skin is burning through the dampness of his shirt.
“Graham, I swear, if you throw me in that water, I will never speak to you again.”
His voice is low and close as he says, “You make it sound like that wouldn't be a good thing.”
I haven't even finished my sound of incredulity before I am gathered into his arms, my arms unconsciously going around his neck to anchor me to him. His touch is gentle, his eyes are smiling.
“I mean it. This won't be good for you.”
“Oh, I don't know about that.” His arms swing out, and I tighten my hold on him, threatening him even as he is laughing at me. He does it again as we move closer to the water and I glare all my irk at him.
“If I go, you go.”
He tilts his head as he studies me. His voice is unnaturally sober as he tells me, “That's fine with me.”
I don't have time to process that before he lets go of me. I hit the water, refusing to let go of his neck, and we both go under. Lucky for me, the water is only a couple feet deep. Unlucky for Graham, I twist around until I am straddling him, keeping him down with my weight so the only thing above water is his head.
I give him a sweet smile. He doesn't return it.
“Hi,” I purr.
He grunts in response.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
“What can I say? Where you go, I follow.”
I pat his cheek. “That's so sweet.”
“I'm a sweet guy.”
“So sweet,” I agree.
“Hey! You're scaring the fish away.” This from Blake, who is now standing near my father.
“The fish love me!” I declare, sweeping my arms out wide and losing my balance. I splash into the water, first laughing, and then choking as water goes down my throat.
Graham lifts me out of the water by my shirt. “The weight of your arrogance obviously tipped you over.”
“It was more like the air couldn't handle all my splendor.”
Half of his mouth lifts. “Something like that.”
“Fishing with the three of you is impossible,” Dad grumbles and stomps to the cooler, opening a can of soda and gulping it down”
― Roomies
