Nos guste o no, vivimos y morimos por un sinfín de decisiones que afectan a cada paso en nuestra vidas. A veces en formas que nunca nos atreveríamos a pensar o esperar. A veces en formas que no podemos entender durante mucho tiempo.
What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?” I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them...
There’s no getting better, Storm. This is it.” There’s no coming back from the dead.
Must have been some kind a nightmare.” “Yeah,” I answer, my usual calm, vacant voice returning. “Can’t wait to wake up.
I could lay here and stare at him forever. I don’t want to let go. Ever.
He leans in closer and closer until his breath caresses my mouth. I’m paralyzed. I swear he’s going to kiss me. I swear I’m going to let him.
Do You think it matters if they're tiny or deep? he asked. Well, if they're not tiny breaths and they're not deep breaths, then they're just ... breaths. Then you're just breathing for the sake of ... breathing. ... Seize them. Feel them. Love them ....
What’s wrong is that every morning and every night, I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me.
No human can bury their past indefinitely. It’s only a matter of time before you crack.
There’s something different about him, and I don’t have to think hard to see it. Something about the way he takes over a room, the way he looks at me, like he has already identified and can disarm every one of my defense mechanisms with no effort...
Society is better off with me in a gym.
I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.
Because you’re not a one-night girl, Irish.” (...) “You’re my forever girl.
Because you´re not a one night girl Irish.' Leaning in to place a kiss on my jawline he whispers, 'You're my forever girl.
