I'm going to arrange you, if that's okay?" I swallowed. "Uh... sure." My hands were clutched to my ribcage, my shoulders hunched almost to my ears. What, this isn't how you want me positioned?
Not stupid. Overly trusting, maybe, but that reflects on his lack of trustworthiness, not on your intelligence.
Minus my relationship with Kennedy, I had no automatic invitation to Greek Parties or events, though Chaz and Erin could invite me to some stuff since I fell under the heading of acceptable things to bring to any party: alcohol and girls. Awesome. I'd gone from independent girlfriend to party paraphernalia.
Really, he could have just punched me in the stomach, because my brain refused to comprehend the words he was saying. A physical assault, it might have understood.
I don't know why it's so hard for me to say those three words. Most guys throw it around like breath, like bait.
He stuck the pencil over his ear, looking unconvinced. "Mmm. What position would you be the most comfortable for you?" I couldn't say aloud the answers that popped into my head at that question, but the flush that spread across my face like wildfire gave me away. He caught his lower lip in his teeth, and I was sure it was to contain a laugh. Most comfortable position? What about with my head stuck under a pillow?
If someone had asked, How does this compare to kissing Kennedy? I would have answered, "Who?"
Too much quiet left me depressed and consuming condiments for meals.
His breath in my ear, he ran his tongue along the curved edge, sucking the fleshy lobe and my small diamond stud into his mouth, and my eyes drifted closed while I babbled a weak sound of longing.
I tilt her chin up and bend my face to hers, silently praising every woman who's had a hand in making her who she is.
Lucas: I wanted to talk to you after class, but you disappeared. Me: I have another class right after. One of those profs who stops talking, stares at you and waits until you get to your seat if you're late. Lucas: I would probably just walk to my seat even slower. ;)
"You're full of contradictions, Ms. Wallace." I looked up at him and arched a brow. "I'm a girl. That's part of the job description, Mr. Maxfield."
I've been known to slum it and shop in the gag-him-and-bag-him aisles, believe it or not.
We talked--recent history only--and Lucas relayed the story of how Francis came to be his roommate. "He showed up at the door one night, demanding to be let in. Napped on the sofa for an hour, then demanded to be let out. It turned into a nightly ritual, with him staying longer and longer, until at some point I realized he'd moved in. He's basically the most brazen squatter ever.
Erin and I spent four hours shopping for dresses and shoes Tuesday night. She was going all out in her intention to make Chaz regret any decision he'd made that didn't include worshipping at her feet.
I'm gonna make that asshole gnaw his own hand off that night, dammit.
Ugh! Erin. You have a one-track mind." She smiled deviously. "I prefer to think of it as target-driven.
I suppose love is never a sure thing, no matter what words are spoken. Love requires a leap of faith into the abyss, every time.
But I'll say this, if what looks like the facts of the matter are conflicting with your feelings, then you need more information before deciding
there's not a boy on the planet worth this amount of angst. I know; i used to be one
It isn't fair how I doubt him, and I wonder if he'll ever gather that my loss of faith extends further than I'd ever known it would, severing lines of trust and leveling my confidence like a city-flattening tornado.
I used to think of two people in love like that. Like puzzle pieces, fitting together. But it's not like that at all. Love pulls a part of you out, and it pulls a part of him - like taffy, stretching but not separating. The tendrils of each one wrap around the other, until they meld together. One, but not quite. Separate, but not quite.
I was so afraid of wanting too much that I couldn't trust her handing me a shot at getting it. I don't want to be that senselessly fearful ever again.
That macho protective bullshit is just some asshat man pissing on his territory so the other dogs will stay away.
I opened my mouth wide one time to see if the words I was thinking would fall out, but they wouldn’t. If words don’t want to come out, they don’t. I don’t understand when people say things and then they say, I didn’t mean to say that. Words don’t just fall out. You have to push them out. And sometimes, you can’t push them out, even if you want to.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: