“Just out of curiosity,” she says, “after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or two?”
“Two,” I reply cheerfully.
“Do you high five yourself?”
“Of course not.” I smirk. “I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the ceiling and thank the big man upstairs for creating such a perfect male specimen.”
“Him: Confession: I deleted all the 1 Direction from your iPod when u were in the can.
You’re welcome.
Me: WHAT?? I’m going to kiss u!
Him: With tongue?
It takes me a second to realize what happened, at which point I’m completely mortified.
Me: Kill u! I meant KILL. u. Damn autocorrect.
Him: Surrrrrre. Let’s blame it on autocorrect.
Me: Shut it.
Him: I think someone wants to kiss me…”
“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”
“Penises!
Sweet Jesus.
Penises everywhere.
Horror slams into me as I register what I'm seeing. Oh God. I've stumbled onto a penis convention. Big penises and small penises and fat penises and penis-shaped penises. It doesn't matter which direction I move my head because everywhere I look I see penises.”
“I want to murder him in his sleep, A. No, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it.”
“She tries to take a step down the hall, but I tug on her hand and kiss her again, and this time it's not a peck. I kiss her hard, losing myself in her taste and her heat and every damn thing about her. I never expected her. Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know you ever lived without them.”
“I fight back laughter.
“As you wish.”
"Did you really just Princess Bride me?”
“Did you really just use Princess Bride as a verb?”
“The second I encounter his erection, my jaw drops.
“Oh my God, are you kidding me?”
He looks startled. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you taking human growth hormones or something? I snatch my hand back, fighting another rush of nervousness. “There’s no way that huge man monster is fitting inside me!”
Garrett’s head abruptly drops in the crook of his arm as a shudder racks his body. At first I think he’s pissed off. Or maybe even crying. It takes several seconds before I realize what’s happening. He’s laughing.
Scratch that – he’s in hysterics.”
“How did I go so long without noticing you, damn it? Why did it take seeing a stupid A on your midterm to make me notice?”
He sounds so genuinely upset that I scoot closer and kiss him. “It doesn’t matter. You know me now.”
“I do,” he says fiercely.”
“He shakes his head in amazement. “Your voice is…fuck, Wellsy, it’s beautiful.” My cheeks heat up. “You think so?” His impassioned expression tells me he’s dead serious. “Play something else,” he orders. “Um. What do you want to hear?” “Anything. I don’t care.” I’m startled by the intensity in his voice, the emotion now glittering in his gray eyes. “I just need to hear you sing again.”
“So why do they call it the crease?” Dex asks in fascination after the second period commences. “And why does it sound so dirty?” On my other side, Allie leans in to grin at Dexter. “Babe, everything about hockey sounds dirty. Five-hole? Poke check? Backdoor?” She sighs. “Come home with me one time and listen to my dad yell Jam it in! over and over again when he watches hockey, and then you can talk to me about dirty. Not to mention uncomfortable.”
“What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you freaking out right now? Garrett Graham is sitting in your booth. He talked to you.” “Holy shit, he did? I mean, his lips were moving, but I didn’t realize he was talking.”
“Unbelievable. Every girl at this college would cut her frickin’ arm off to help me out. But this one? Runs away like I just asked her to murder a cat so we could sacrifice it to Satan.”
“Say it,” he orders. “Say what?” I use the corner of his blanket to wipe the moisture staining my cheeks. “Say Garrett Graham, you are a sex god. You have achieved what no other man ever has. You—” I punch him in the shoulder. “Oh my God, you’re such a jerk. I will never, ever say those words.” “Sure you will.” He smirks at me. “Once I’m through with you, you’ll be shouting those words out from the rooftops.”
“Never say never,” he answers in a singsong voice. “Thanks for that, Justin Bieber.”
“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he begs. “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you were actually pointing at the old guy a few seats over. He totally freaked out and started shouting to everyone that you scored that goal for him, and then I heard him ask his wife if maybe you knew that he was just diagnosed with diabetes, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him who the goal was really for.”
“It’s like that pond I skated on when I was a kid—from a distance, the ice looked so shiny and smooth, until you got close enough to it, and suddenly all the uneven edges and crisscrossed skate marks became visible. That’s me, I guess. Covered with skate marks that nobody ever seems to notice.”
“Two minutes later, Garrett pops into the corridor, and I take one look at his expression and know he’s about to deliver good news. “You passed?” I squeal. He raises his exam booklet over his head like he’s acting out a scene from the Lion King. “A-fucking-minus!”
“Hannah hadn’t been moving suggestively when she’d belted out Lady Gaga earlier, but she sure as shit is moving suggestively now. She’s gone from Disney Channel Miley Cyrus to Full-on Twerk Mode Miley, and it’s officially time for me to put a stop to it before she moves straight to Let’s Make a Sex Tape Miley. Wait—has Miley ever made a sex tape? Fuck, who am I kidding? Of course she has.”
“I clench my teeth. “I’m not a virgin, Garrett.” “You’re not a puck bunny either.” “So that means I’m not allowed to sleep with a guy I’m attracted to?” He rakes both hands over his scalp now, looking equally aggravated. Then he takes a breath, exhales slowly, and meets my eyes. “Okay, here’s the deal. I believe you’re attracted to me. I mean—one, who isn’t? And two, you moan like crazy whenever my tongue’s in your mouth.” I bristle. “I do not.” “Agree to disagree.”
“I burst into the locker room and— Penises! Sweet Jesus. Penises everywhere. Horror slams into me as I register what I’m seeing. Oh God. I’ve stumbled onto a penis convention. Big penises and small penises and fat penises and penis-shaped penises. It doesn’t matter which direction I move my head because everywhere I look I see penises. My mortified gasp draws the attention of every penis—er, guy, in the room.”
“You invoked a campus-wide hands-off law? Are you kidding me?” I’m not at all remorseful as I meet her eyes. “Of course I did.” “Oh my God. You are unbelievable.” She shakes her head in disbelief”
“Ha! I knew you were into him! Oh my God! Hold my juice—I think I need to break out in a happy dance! Do you know how to do the running man? If so, can you teach me right now?”
“Living well and being happy is how we get over the shit in our past.”
“Fuck, I want to kiss her again. I want to feel her lips on mine. I want to hear that throaty noise she made the first time I sucked on her tongue.”
“And the most important lesson I learned is that I’m not a victim—I’m a survivor.”
“If this was a movie, she’d be the young, ambitious teacher who shows up at the inner city school and inspires the fuckups, and suddenly everyone’s putting down their AKs and picking up their pencils, and the end credits scroll up to announce how all the kids got into Harvard or some shit. Instant Oscar for Hilary Swank.”
“My place?” he murmurs. Those two words, low and husky, make my thighs clench so hard I’m surprised I don’t pull a muscle. Rather than answer—my throat has clogged with desire—I take the coffee from his hand and proceed to dump both our cups in the trashcan behind him. Garrett chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” she orders. “Why not? It’ll only boost your street cred.” “I don’t want to be another one of your puck bunnies, and I don’t want people thinking I am, understood?” Her use of the term makes me grin harder. I like that she’s picking up the hockey lingo. Maybe one of these days, I’ll even convince her to come to a game. I have a feeling Hannah would be a great heckler, which is always an advantage at home games. Though knowing her, she’d probably heckle us and give the other team the advantage.”
“Women are very complicated, even if you are a psychiatrist.”
“I'm just doing what I have to do. I don't have a choice."
"Yeah, good luck going to bed with a guilt-free conscience with that sorry-ass excuse."
The sour expression evaporated from Mr. Greek's face. His gaze switched back to the computer. "Keep talking and I'll gag you."
"Blow me.”
“continual dripping. An obstinate, argumentative woman is literally like a leak so unrelenting that one has to run from it or go mad. Here”
“There are several important remarks which can be made about this 'absolute emptiness' and 'absolute nothingness'. First of all, we now know, theoretically and empirically, that such a thing does not exist. There may be more or less of something, but never an unlimited 'perfect vacuum'. In the second place, our nervous make-up, being in accord with experience, is such that 'absolute emptiness' requires 'outside walls'. The question at once arises, is the world 'finite' or 'infinite'? If we say 'finite', it has to have outside walls, and then the question arises: What is 'behind the walls'? If we say it is 'infinite', the problem of the psychological 'walls' is not eliminated. and we still have the semantic need for walls, and then ask what is beyond the walls. So we see the such a world suspended in some sort of an 'absolute void' represents a nature against human nature, and so we had to invent something supernatural to account for such assumed nature against human nature. In the third place, and this remark is the most fundamental of all, because a symbol must stand for something to be a symbol at all, 'absolute nothingness' cannot be objective and cannot be symbolized at all. This ends the argument, as all we may say about it is neither true nor false, but non-sense. We can make noises, but say nothing about the external world. It is easy to see that 'absolute nothingness' is a label for a semantic disturbance, for verbal objectification, for a pathological state inside our skin, for a fancy, but not a symbol, for a something which has objective existence outside our skin.”
“We're not supposed to touch the dead. This is why we make a comfortable afterlife for them, so they will not reach out. We hope to distract them, keep them busy. Burial is a hope.”
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