Better Than the Movies

She’s not you.” “What?” “She. Isn’t. You.

Enemies-to-lovers—it’s our trope, Buxbaum.

I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn you cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.

You look best when you're you.

Sometimes we get so tied up in our idea of what we think we want that we miss out on the amazingness of what we could actually have.

She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.” It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me.

Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind.

When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case, I do them all the time. All of them.

I did what I had to. All is fair in love and parking.

When I brought my eyes back to his, I knew without a doubt that if we were anywhere else—alone—he would kiss me. He swallowed, and my eyes tracked down to his throat before slowly climbing back up by way of his strong chin, nose, and dark-as-night brown eyes. He raised one eyebrow, an unspoken question, and I realized at that moment that I wanted it. I wanted Wes. Michael had been my endgame, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore. I wouldn’t run through a train station for Michael. But I would do it for Wes. Holy shit.

Do you realize we could’ve been doing this for years if you weren’t such a pain in the ass?” “Nah—I didn’t like you until recently.” “Enemies-to-lovers—it’s our trope, Buxbaum.” “You poor, confused little love lover.” A giggle shimmied through me before I set my hands on his face and said as I pulled him back to me, “Just shut up and kiss me.

A girl will never forget the first boy she likes.” —He’s Just Not That into You “But she’ll also never forget the first boy she hates.” —Liz Buxbaum

Be brave enough to go big.

Hey—don’t ditch me until I find Michael, okay?” “Call me ‘Wessy,’ and I totally won’t.” I snorted. “Fine. If you ditch me, Wessy, I will stab you with the keg tap.” “My little Libby is such a savage.

I could say these unfiltered things to him because he didn’t care. Wes Bennett knew what a mess I was underneath it all, and there was a little bit of joy in knowing he saw the real me. Freedom.

because of things like car accidents and lost loves, life and death and broken hearts, we should grab every moment and absolutely devour the good parts.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” —10 Things I Hate About You

Wes: Make sure you add “Someone Like You” to the Wes and Liz playlist.

Please don’t ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere—

My inheritance was the knowledge that love is always in the air, always a possibility, and always worth it.

You suppose? What on earth could she possibly be lacking? Do you want bigger boobs or something? Is she not—” “She’s not you.” “What?” “She. Isn’t. You.

What do you mean, not your type? Because he’s not some character who writes poetry and knows what your favorite flower is?

I can't talk to you when you're like this." "Happy? Excited? Hopeful?" "Delusional.

You’re late.” “You’re stunning.” “You’re forgiven.” —Pretty Woman

So you think that two enemies—in the real world—can magically get over their differences and fall madly in love?

My favorite thing about music—when you played it loud enough through good headphones (and I had the best)—was that it softened the edges of the world.

Charm and intrigue can only get you so far, Libby Loo. Those things always disappear, which is why you never, ever choose the bad boy.

Me: Who cares about meteor showers? If you bring the cherry ciggies, I’m so there. Wes: You’re such a shit. See you there.