I’d have three flights of stairs to get over my hanging out with someone new nerves before I was face-to-face with her.

“Things go smoother if you don’t let people get a rise out of you,” he says. “If you give them control over how you feel, they’ll always use it.” “Finally, I see your cynical side,” I say. He smiles, but his jaw is tight, and the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not cynical. If you don’t give other people responsibility for your feelings, you

And things I can’t dream up too. The ways it will all go wrong, and the beauty that can only happen in the wake.

He draws back slowly, the kiss settling like the tail end of a fast-moving storm, a tapering off rather than an abrupt stop.

Close enough that I become the moth to his irresistible glow, trying to resist the pull to move closer.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I say. He tucks his chin, a teasing curve to his lips. “Even though you hate it?” “I don’t hate it,” I say. He seems unconvinced. “I actually think I like it,” I say. “I’m just not good at it, and it stresses me out feeling like I’m making someone wait on me.”

ability to use those negative emotions as fuel to Get. Shit. Done.

It’s easy to be loved by the ones who’ve never seen you fuck up. The ones you’ve never had to apologize to, and who still think all your ‘quirks’ are charming.

like my heart might crack through my ribs if I can’t have more of him.