Losing It

Sex. I was going to have sex. With a boy. A hot boy. A hot BRITISH boy. Or maybe I was going to throw up. What if I threw up on the hot British boy? What if I threw up on the hot British boy DURING SEX?

Are you waiting for an invitation?” I asked, eyeing him standing carefully outside my door. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re a vampire?” He chuckled. “No, I promise the paleness is only because I’m British.

It wasn’t until I’d walked halfway across the parking lot that I realized: 1. I wasn’t wearing shoes. A. Or a shirt. 2. I didn’t bring my keys A. Or anything really. 3. I’d just left a complete stranger in my apartment. A. Naked. Whoever said one-night stands were supposed to be simple with no strings attached had clearly never met the disaster that was me.

Sometimes, it's the scary things in life that are the most worthwhile.

An accent. HE HAS A BRITISH ACCENT. Dear God, I'm dying.

Some relationships just end. Like a star, they burn bright and brilliant, and then nothing in particular goes wrong, they just reach their end. They burn out.

Four. That’s the number of people who saw me hiding around the corner from my own apartment in just a skirt and a bra. Eleven. That’s the number of ant bites I got on my shoeless feet. Twenty-seven. That’s the number of times I was tempted to do myself physical harm because I am an IDIOT. One. That’s the number of times I tried not to cry, but failed.

We want what we can't have. It's human nature.

I am in love with this burrito. I would marry it if I didn’t want to eat it so badly.” “The tragedy of true love,” Cade whispered.

What cat? Oh! MY CAT. The cat… that is mine. Oh, she’s... ” I had said it was a she, right? “She’s fine. All meowing and purring and other cat things.

Oh, I burned it with my straightener.” “You burned your leg with your straightener? How long is your leg hair?

What's your name, love?" Love? LOVE! Still dying, here. "Bliss." "Is that a line?" I blushed crimson. "No, it's my name." "Lovely name for a lovely girl.

No matter how close, you are always too far My eyes are drawn everywhere you are. I’m tired of the way we both pretend Tired of always wanting and never giving in I can feel it in my skin, see it in your grin We’re more. We always have been. Think of everything we’ve missed. Every touch and every kiss. Because we both insist. Resist. Hold your breath and close your eyes Distract yourself with other guys It’s no surprise, your defeated sighs Aren’t you tired of the lies? Think of everything we’ve missed. Every touch and every kiss. Because we both insist. Resist. No matter how close, you are always too far My eyes are drawn everywhere you are. I’m done. I won’t ignore. I won’t pretend or resist. I want more.

I get what it's like to want something, but to try and force yourself to really believe that you don't.

SERIOUSLY? Is it because of Jesus? Are you, like, saving yourself for him?” Sex seemed simpler for Kelsey. She had the body of a Barbie and the sexually-charged brain of a teenage boy. “No, Kelsey,” I said. “It would be a little difficult to save myself for someone who died over two thousand years ago.

Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled. She snapped the box closed. She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She didn’t faint. There might have been a little crying. But mostly… she danced.

If brains could have orgasms, I'm pretty sure this was what it would feel like.

On a scale of one to bitchy, how hung-over are you?

Garrick was panting when he replied, “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I just want you to be sure. You can say stop at anytime.” His lips pulled wide. “You don’t need to make up a new pet.

No matter how close, you are always too far. My eyes are drawn everywhere you are...

He was flabbergasted. That was the best word. His flabber had been thoroughly gasted.

What? Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.

I danced. I danced without music. I screamed without sound. I celebrated in silence, in the dark, behind the curtains where no one could see.

Hopes and dreams are great, but they are a lot easier to break than a solid plan.

Bliss, I don’t normally do things like that. But I was second-guessing everything about coming here, and you were everything I needed. I don’t know how many times I’ve stopped myself from coming over here and knocking on your door. And yes, seeing you with Cade was definitely motivation, but more than that... I just like you, Bliss. As a teacher. As a person. As a guy.

I had no one, but Hamlet. Who hated me with the fire of a thousand suns.

He stepped away from me to talk, and I leaned heavily against the wall beside his door. Clearly, I was not meant to have sex. This was God telling me that I was meant to be a nun. Get thee to a nunnery, and all that crap. I was so delirious I was confusing God and Shakespeare.

Take notes, boys! The ladies always love a man who can play an instrument!” Lindsay snorted, “Your instrument doesn’t even like girls, Rusty!” “Doesn’t mean they don’t like it!

Legs shaved?" I nodded "Other... things... shaved?" "As much as they are ever going to be, yes, now move on." That was where I drew the line of this conversation.