Here's to Us

I just want to make you happy. But I'll be there when you're not happy, too. If you're sad, I'll sit inside it with you. I know I'm going to mess up sometimes, too, but I promise to say sorry a lot, because that's what people do when they want something to work.

And you”—I prod his arm—“need to stop rereading that YA book where everyone dies at the end.

You could launch us to opposite ends of this solar system, and we'd find our way back to each other.

Sometimes happily ever afters aren’t about your happiness at all.

Just because someone says they love you doesn’t mean they’ll never say it to someone else.

Here’s to do-overs, right?” “Here’s to us,

People don’t warn you that heartbreak is a chronic condition. Maybe it quiets down a little over time, or you can muffle it with distance, but the ache never quite dials down to zero. It’s there lurking in the background, ready to flare back up the minute you let your guard down.

Ben shoots me a quick sideways smile, but it’s cool, because who even needs lungs? Why are we all so obsessed with breathing?

And all I can think is: sometimes what-ifs come true.

because he just loves Taylor’s music, probably because her music is fucking amazing and she’s a goddius, which is a new word I invented just now that means both genius and goddess,

You're going to hurt someone! That's just how it is sometimes, and it sucks, but what's the alternative? Never make a real choice? Close yourself off completely? You have to be honest, at least with yourself.

Then we just kind of stare at each other for a minute. Or ten minutes. Or ten hours. I don’t know how to measure time when Ben’s looking at me.

Happiness is tricky when it comes to the person who used to make you happy.

I don’t know what I even expected. A big final act kiss? A scorching rejection? It’s the kind of thing that makes sense in movies but it falls apart when it’s real. When it’s Ben. When his bedroom floor is covered with moving boxes. When he’s telling me to hang out as long as I want to but not begging me to stay. I wonder how many love stories end like this.

It’s your life. You’re always the protagonist.

That man is a goddamn bunion on the foot of my life.

In our family, we always say that we love each other before we leave home, go to bed, hang up the phone. My parents have always made it clear that we might have some economic challenges from time to time, but we'll always be rich in love. And I get it - but if love was cash, I wouldn't want to spend it all in the same place.

You start with nothing and maybe end with everything.

I think it’s less about following my heart and more about understanding that my heart is dragging me somewhere.

I’m tired of not being able to own my feelings because someone else has it worse. I know I’m lucky to have a roof over my head and parents who love me and food on the table. I know, I know, I know. I can also want more for myself.

Folks, I don’t know what to tell you. They’re not straight, but they came straight for our hearts.

you’re my biggest fan and my biggest champion. And you prove over and over how the real world is more magical than anything I could ever write because you’re in it.

You know what I did last night? I watched every love confession scene I could find, and every single one of them reminded me of you. All of them. Notting Hill. Crazy Rich Asians. Ten Things I Hate About You—Ben, I cried watching the end of the Kissing Booth sequel, because for me, it’s always you. You’re the point of every story.

Here’s a hint.” Jacob smiles. “It’s your life. You’re always the protagonist.

But Mario’s the one carrying Ben’s dreams over the finish line. I may have been Ben’s first draft, but Mario’s his hardcover. I guess that’s how it goes, though. Sometimes happily ever afters aren’t about your happiness at all.

Everything coming out of the kitchen smells great. We’ve got tostones slathered with garlic as an appetizer, pernil that’s spending extra time in the oven for an epic crunch, and empanadillas that I always enjoy with a little hot sauce.

Because for me, it’s always you. You’re the point of every story.