“Trev, all you had to do was breathe to make me want you. ”
“No, I don't party; no, I don't dress in black leather and chains; that's not my style. That's how I was raised. I worry about getting good grades and I go to church and I watch sci-fi movies and I generally follow the rules. Most people would call me a geek or a nerd. You've called me that many times. But that isn't everything that defines me. I mean, look at me, sitting here in a rainstorm under a tree that's probably going to kill us when the lightning hits it, holding the hand of a pretty cool girl who really is the opposite of me, a girl that I happen to be in love with. A girl I couldn't have imagined would want to be with me. But here she is, letting me hold her hand, trying to tell me why she isn't good enough for me. That's crazy.”
“Trev--"I heard you were going to go out with him and I burned with jealousy. No, burning isn't the right word. I was more like an inferno. So I followed you....."
"You're as pathetic as I am," I gasped out.
"Worse," he qualifies. "I'm a pathetic geek."
I snuggle back in to him "Yeah, well so am I.”
“Who knew that you would be The One," I smile, "which I guess makes me your Trinity."
"My Amidala."
"Your Zira."
"My Sylvia."
"Your..." I scour my brain, trying to remember some other great sci-fi love interest.
"Ha! I'm your Saphira," I settle back smugly, only for Trevor to start laughing.
"Saphira is a dragon.”
“Jen--"I am sorry that I hurt you. I don't have the words to tell you how sorry I am about that."..."I would do anything to take that part away. I would do anything to change the hurt I know I caused you. But I can't be sorry about making the bet with Ella and Beth because if I hadn't done that, I would never have gotten to know you.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” My heart plummets again. “Or I did. Maybe I still do. I don’t know. But I didn’t bring her to the dance. I brought you. It seems I spend all my time with you.”
“Why is that?” I’m genuinely curious but aware that I could be opening a door I don’t want opened. I quickly rephrase. “I mean, why do you want to?”
He looks thoughtful.
“You’re funny,” he finally says. “I laugh a lot when I’m with you. I always have fun when I’m with you. And you try to hide it, but you’re actually pretty sweet.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” I say petulantly, crossing my arms tightly again. He chuckles.
“And you’re really smart.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“You are. But you try to hide that as well. And you’re pretty.”
“Worse and worse,” I moan. He grins.
“And when I’m with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.”
“He grins as he straightens and walks toward me, the grin that brings out the dimples and nearly takes my knees out. I'm such a marshmallow.”
“Trevor : “Who says that you’re not good?” He sounds a little angry.
“Who says that, Jen? Kyle? Beth? Ella? Your mother? You? Who
gave any of you the right to decide who’s good and who’s not?”
“Oh, I’d heard him. Loud and clear. That was why I wanted to kill him.
Which basically showed how amazing the human mind was; how you could care about someone but want to slit his or her throat at the same time. Like having a sister who you wanted to punch right in the ovaries. You still loved her, you just wanted to sock her right in the baby-maker to teach her a lesson—not that I knew from experience or anything.”
“You dog!” she said, so loud that half the crowded tavern turned to watch. “A few days past the walls of the inner keep and you think your pizzle has turned to solid silver? At least when Nevin Hewney falls asleep on top of a girl, drooling and farting and limp as custard, he doesn’t pretend he’s done her a favor.”
“Love...it complicates our games, old friend, it insinuates itself, disrupting the most carefully laid plans and unmanning the most disciplined heart.”
“She remembered one of her boyfriends asking, offhandedly, how many books she read in a year. "A few hundred," she said.
"How do you have the time?" he asked, gobsmacked.
She narrowed her eyes and considered the array of potential answers in front of her. Because I don't spend hours flipping through cable complaining there's nothing on? Because my entire Sunday is not eaten up with pre-game, in-game, and post-game talking heads? Because I do not spend every night drinking overpriced beer and engaging in dick-swinging contests with the other financirati? Because when I am waiting in line, at the gym, on the train, eating lunch, I am not complaining about the wait/staring into space/admiring myself in reflective surfaces? I am reading!
"I don't know," she said, shrugging.”
“The full impact of silver--liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn't exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don't know what it was. I don't think it has a name.”
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