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Really, he could have just punched me in the stomach, because my brain refused to comprehend the words he was saying. A physical assault, it might have understood.

Tammara Webber

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Tammara Webber
Words
Refused
Might
Comprehend
Really
Assault
Stomach
Physical
Understood
Saying
Brain
Punched

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My last coherent thought, as Lucas took his time kissing and touching every part of me he could reach and my body arched into his, was: oh... so this is what all the fuss is about.
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I was so afraid of wanting too much that I couldn't trust her handing me a shot at getting it. I don't want to be that senselessly fearful ever again.
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There's something uncontaminated about her, and I don't even mean sexually or whatever. I mean the way she is, at her core. Like when you wake up and the world has been blanketed by snow overnight, and not a single footstep or tire track has spoiled the untouched perfection of it.
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Erin and I spent four hours shopping for dresses and shoes Tuesday night. She was going all out in her intention to make Chaz regret any decision he'd made that didn't include worshipping at her feet.
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When you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.
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LUCAS: I've done a couple from memory but they aren't the same. Can't quite get the shape of your jaw. The line of your neck. And your lips. I need to spend more time staring at them and less time tasting them. ME: I can't say i agree with that notion. LUCAS: More of both, then.
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Minus my relationship with Kennedy, I had no automatic invitation to Greek Parties or events, though Chaz and Erin could invite me to some stuff since I fell under the heading of acceptable things to bring to any party: alcohol and girls. Awesome. I'd gone from independent girlfriend to party paraphernalia.
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I’ve come to ask how you do it. How you feel what I know you’re feeling and then walk away like that.
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He's already chasing you. Now all you have to do is keep running. Just not too fast.
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I belong to you. There is no one else. All I want is to be where you are.
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Brooke?” I puff out a sigh. “For chrissake, Reid, who do you think it is? And haven’t you put me into your contacts yet?” “Yeah... It just says Satan, though, and I forgot I’d assigned that title to you.
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We remain silent because we've taken on a responsibility and/or shame that was never ours to carry. Forgive yourself for things that were not your fault. Bad decisions, mistaken trust, physical weakness, or too much fear to act do not make an assault on you or someone you care about your fault. Ever.
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I used to think of two people in love like that. Like puzzle pieces, fitting together. But it's not like that at all. Love pulls a part of you out, and it pulls a part of him - like taffy, stretching but not separating. The tendrils of each one wrap around the other, until they meld together. One, but not quite. Separate, but not quite.
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And I’m okay, I really am, most of the time. But sometimes, I’m just not.
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