A Little Something Different

Sometimes it’s better to say something stupid than nothing at all.

They sit there in the window of the coffee shop for almost an hour, not talking much, but looking at each other over the tops of their books, flirting somehow even without words. It would be gross if it weren’t adorable.

...their voices are quieter than the other groups around them, but their body language speaks volumes.

I'll die of embarrassment." "At least you'll die knowing.

It was like I couldn't think of any words. Now I can think of about nine million." "How many words are in the English language?" "Not the point.

When I think about it, it’s like I would have never been able to grow out of it. It’s like the tree and the bicycle. I grew around it and it became part of me.

What’s the point of becoming mind-numbingly drunk if it doesn't even give you the balls to talk to the girl you like?

If you’re going to talk to this great ass, at least be excited about it.

I don't think age has much to do with writing. I think it's something that can certainly improve in time, but there's no age limit on how old you need to be to write well.

My emotions are spiraling out of control. I never promised I would be logical at a time like this!

I feel like this is a horror story. That's how scared I am right now. "Don't be scared." "That doesn't help.

I'm aware of how unprofessional this is and yet I can't stop myself.

I’m really tired of being embarrassed all the time. And trying and having nothing happen.

Every time I see her, I’m always surprised. She keeps me on my toes. She smiles when I need her to, even though she could never know that I needed her to. I like the way she looks when she’s thinking. I like the way she looks at me when I’m thinking. She

For the record, I’ll still probably be pretty stupid sometimes. I make no promises that you’ll have the positive influence on me that you assume you’ll have.

He's like a cesspool in the midst of my creative writing oasis.

He's like a deer; I don't want to make any sudden movements and startle his thoughts away.

I don’t know what you’re saying but I’m sure I love you!

I look at her suspiciously. ... Nothing is ever short and easy in this class.

Shh,” Casey says, pulling me back closer. “They’ll need our recollection of this blessed event because they’re both so drunk.” “I’m not that drunk,” Lea says without turning around. “I am,” Gabe says. “For the record.” “So what do you have to say for yourself?” Lea says, stabbing him in the chest again with her finger. “Please stop stabbing me in the chest,” he says.

I sit up straight. She’s talking to me. No one ever talks to me. Oh, how I wish I knew human and could answer her. Instead I nibble on my peanut.

I like squirrels,” she says with a shrug.

They come in here every once in a while, and she goes to one corner and he goes to the other, and then they move around the store creating parabolas as they come together and bounce apart. They're the weirdest couple on Earth. I want to write math equations about them.

I think she has a serious school-supply addiction.

...the people who take their coffee orders far too personally, who have deep-seated emotional issues about how many pumps of mocha they get.

No one has time for benches in the winter.

Their trajectory of attraction is like an equation.

And I suppose they have friends in other places, and that I'm only seeing a tiny sliver of their lives, but it seems to me if they're moving in the same direction, why not move in the same direction together? I'm not talking about undying love, but I wish they would at least become friends. That wouldn't be too hard.