Sarra Manning · 560 pages
Rating: (14.7K votes)
“That was the worst thing about having a relationship with someone, even a pretend relationship. You opened up, let someone in, and when it was over, they had all the ammunition they needed to completely destroy you.”
“What you look like is just one part of who you are - but it's not all you are.”
“I guess they're called moments because they don't last very long.”
“The thing about love was that it caught you unawares, turned up in the most unexpected places, even when you weren't looking for it.”
“I suppose the things that you always take for granted, that you don't even notice, are what you miss the most.”
“She was so fed up with unrequited love and platonic love and all the other kinds of love that weren’t passionate, romantic, can’t-live-without-you, I-have-to-have-you-right-now, the-beat-of-your-heart-matches-the-beat-of-mine love.”
“But Neve, you can’t start a book and leave it halfway through,’ he’d said implacably. ‘It’s almost as bad as turning down the corner of the page, instead of using a bookmark.”
“Then what he said and how he said it won't be important any more. What will be important are all the things you never got to say.”
“Each kiss was like biting into the richest darkest chocolate and pausing to savour the taste.”
“Excuse me?’ she spat, and as Dougie and Celia always pointed out, it didn’t matter that Neve never swore because she could make ‘Excuse me?’ sound like ‘Go fuck yourself.”
“You took out a book on blow-job technique from the British Library? They shouldn't have books like that in there!”
“If Madonna loves me, then you will too.”
“Having a relationship and not even a sexual one is so straight, it's practically perverted.”
“We don't stop, not even when we reach the finish line. It's a journey for life, Neve.”
“Happiness really isn't that hard to find.”
“I realised something else tonight. Something about pancakes.’
‘What about them?’
‘We both got so obsessed about that first pancake being thrown away that we forgot something really important,’ Max explained. ‘That first pancake tastes just as good as all the other ones. It’s not its fault that it was first in line and the pan wasn’t hot enough so it got a bit lumpy and misshapen.’
‘And when you’re really famished that first pancake tastes better than all the ones that come after it,’ Neve said, and then she couldn’t wait any longer. Her arms were around Max before she’d even finished forming the thought, but his arms were around her too in that exact same moment.
Just having him there to hold, warm and solid and real, was enough for five seconds, and then she was peppering his face with kisses – his forehead, his eyebrows, the tip of his crooked nose, along his cheekbones until she reached the glittering prize of his mouth.
Sometimes Neve thought that her appetite was the most robust thing about her, and she didn’t kiss Max so much as she devoured him. Graceless, messy kisses without any thought or reason, but simply because she hungered for him. Kissed him with everything she had and everything she was, and she didn’t know why she could kiss Max and have him kiss her back with the same fierceness but still be greedy for the next kiss and the one after that and the one after that and the one…”
“It wasn't a perfect body but it was the body she deserved. Not just from every bar of chocolate or bag of crisps or laden plate of food that she'd eaten. This body was also testament to all the hours in the gym and cycling up hills on her bike and glugging down two litres of water a day and learning to love vegetables and fruits that didn't come as optional extra with a pastry crust. She'd earned this body.
This was her body and she had to stop giving it such a hard time.”
“How strange that the years and ocean between us have brought us closer together.”
“So you don’t fancy meeting up again?’ Max persisted, though Neve didn’t know why, because she thought she’d made her position perfectly clear. ‘Swap war stories?’
‘I don’t have any war stories,’ Neve said, and in that moment she felt that she never would. That every night would be spent creeping round her flat in her socks with the telly turned down so low that she could barely hear it, so in the end she’d have no other option but to escape into the pages of books where there were other girls falling in and out of love but not her. Never her. She stared down at the scuffed toes of her faux Ugg boots in sudden and tired defeat.
‘If you don’t have any war stories, then at least you don’t have any war wounds,’ Max said, so quietly that Neve had to strain her ears to catch his words. ‘Take my number.”
“I’d think about you and how I didn’t want us to end. It’s complicated…’
Max still held her, his thumbs stroking the spot on her wrists where her pulse was thundering away. ‘Uncomplicate it then. Did you miss me?’
‘Of course I did! I’ve missed you so much, I hurt from it.’
Then, and only then, did Max release her but it was only so Neve could wind her arms around his neck because they were kissing. She couldn’t say who leaned in first, but all of a sudden there was the familiar but shocking touch of lips on lips.”
“I’m going that way too. I live in Crouch End. Do you want to share a black cab?’
Black cabs were an extravagance that Neve couldn’t afford, not this far away from payday, but that wasn’t the reason why she declined. ‘No,
thank you. I’m perfectly all right with catching the tube.’
‘OK, tube it is,’ Max agreed, because he was quite obviously emotionally tone deaf and couldn’t sense the huge ‘kindly bugger off’ vibes that
Neve was sure she was emitting. ‘You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?’
‘You apologised, why would I still be mad at you?’
‘One day we’ll laugh about this. When little Tommy asks how we met, I’ll say, “Well, son, I threw an ice cube at your mother, then slapped her
arse, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“How is dear Charlotte?’ Celia asked sweetly, then launched into an account of how they’d been having their usual ‘Fucking shut up’, ‘No, you fucking shut up’, row a couple of evenings ago, when Yuri had opened the front door of their flat to scream up the stairs, ‘Why don’t both of you fucking shut up?”
“I sat there listening to him talk and talk and I realised something really important.
I thought I was in love with him for all those years but it turned out I was in love with the idea of William. The actual reality was a bit of an anti-climax.
I thought, well, William would never shove the word WAG into pop songs to make me laugh and he wouldn’t bite the chocolate off chocolate-covered strawberries for me and he’d never, ever watch a film with Sandra Bullock in it, unless it was a Shakespeare adaptation and then he’d spend the entire film listing all the historical inaccuracies and he’d never go down on me for half an hour because he’d lost a game of Scrabble. Point of fact, I can’t imagine William doing anything that would mess up his hair, and he’s started popping the collars of his shirts and have I mentioned that he’s not you? He’s not you, Max, and that’s why I’m actually really pleased that he’s engaged and he’s moving to Warwickshire so I don’t have a constant reminder of what an idiot I’ve been.”
“When I saw you on the stairs before, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,’ he whispered against her skin.
‘Spotty, not beautiful,’ she corrected gently, running her finger along his crooked nose. ‘Now you, you’re beautiful.’
‘I even missed your inferiority complex.’ Max smiled and shifted against her.
‘Not being inferior. It’s a point of fact. I’m covered in zits,’ Neve said and she didn’t know why she felt the need to share that with Max but then she was glad that she had because he was kissing each one of the angry red bumps along her forehead and chin and cheeks, even though a few of them were starting to suppurate. ‘Don’t do that, it’s completely unhygienic. Kiss my mouth instead.”
“. . . Do you want to share a black cab?’
Black cabs were an extravagance that Neve couldn’t afford, not this far away from payday, but that wasn’t the reason why she declined. ‘No, thank you. I’m perfectly all right with catching the tube.’
‘OK, tube it is,’ Max agreed, because he was quite obviously emotionally tone deaf and couldn’t sense the huge ‘kindly bugger off’ vibes that Neve was sure she was emitting.”
“But really it says everything that’s wrong about the publishing industry, that a quarter of a million people bought and read a sex and shopping novel that wasn’t even written by one of those footballer girlfriends, and yet most of the shortlisted titles on the Orange Prize, which is an award for women writers, don’t even sell ten thousand copies. It’s just not right.”
“Can we have a time-out on the self-criticism for the rest of the evening?"
"Not the rest of the evening. I can do about half an hour and then force of habit takes over.”
“Max didn't take his hands off her. As they walked to where he'd parked the hired car, he kept his arm round her shoulders, even though he was carrying her cases in his other hand and they kept bumping him.”
“—Lo siento —murmuró ella—. Estoy bien si sé de antemano que van a haber alimentos que no puedo comer, pero cuando se me toma por sorpresa... —Decayó, porque nadie realmente entendía que la comida no era sólo el combustible o que no había nada de malo en un poco de lo que imaginaba; cada comida, cada bocado era una batalla, una guerra de nunca acabar.”
“Now, Neve, are you about to say no to me?' 'Well, it's just that—' 'Because the word "no" is not in my vocabulary, along with the words "can't" and "Victoria Beckham".”
“Paige needs someone who has a spotlight,” Cass starts. I feel Houston shift, and I keep my eyes at my drink. I should argue with her, be offended or defend myself. But the old me, the girl I was before, wouldn’t. She’d agree. “Paige”
“The draugr continued, "You say you are the champion? We can settle this easily. Inside that crypt lies Mjölnir. Bring it to me."
"It's a trick," Baldwin hissed.
"Yes, it is a trick," the draugr said. "If the boy is truly a Thorsen, he already knows that. Do you think no one has found that hammer before now? They have. But they cannot lift it. It lies in its bed of stone, and only Thor's true champion and raise it out. Only the living embodiment of the great god himself."
"Uh, isn't that Excalibur?" Baldwin said.
Matt tried to shush him, but Baldwin said, "It is Excalibur. With the stone. I saw the musical." He lowered his voice. "I think his brains are rotting, too. He seems confused."
"The son of Balder, I see," the draugr said. "I would believe you are the living embodiment of Frigg's doomed son. As pleasant and a sun-warmed stone. And just as intelligent."
"Hey!" Baldwin said.”
“It was like watching a man smile as he surrendered himself to drown in deep water.”
“Alas for the seed of man.”
“Oh," she said, covering her face with her hand. It was not an oh of disappointment or an oh of surprise but an oh that Amina had never heard before, scraped raw with an emotion Amina would not know herself until years later, when she understood what it was to long for someone, to ache for their smell and taste on you, to imagine the weight of their hips pinning yours so precisely that you crane up to meet your own invisible desire. She watched as Paige crossed Akhil's room, undistracted by all the usual things that stopped people- the Greats, his desk, the leather jacket hanging from his chair- and moved straight for his hamper, which she opened up, pulling out a forgotten T-shirt and crushing it into her face. "Oh,", she said again, muffled. Oh. And even if Amina didn't yet know what it was to love like that, to burn until your spine has no choice but to try to wind itself around an empty shirt, she understood for sure that the people who said it was better to have loved and lost than never to to have loved at all were a bunch of dicks.”
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