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342 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 24, 2015
“How about a date?” I offer.
That gets her attention. She straightens up like someone shoved a metal rod up her spine, then swivels her head in astonishment. “What?”
“Ah. I’ve got your attention.”
“No, you’ve got my disgust. You actually think I want to go out with you?”
“Everyone wants to go out with me.”
She bursts out laughing…
“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.. “I kiss each one of my biceps and then point to the ceiling and thank the big man upstairs for creating such a perfect male specimen.”
She snorts. “Uh-huh. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Perfect, but I’m not interested in dating you."
I have to say, this is the first time a girl’s been worried about getting caught in my bedroom. Normally they strut out like they’ve just bagged Brad Pitt.
Hannah takes a breath. “We studied. We watched TV. I went home late. That’s what happened. Got it?”
I fight back laughter. “As you wish.”
“Did you really just Princess Bride me?”
“Did you really just use Princess Bride as a verb?”
She glowers.
The guy protests… “I don’t think you should go in th—“
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. In a heartbeat, towels snap up and hands cover junk and bodies shuffle around, while I stand in the front of the room blushing like a tomato.
Why did Garret have to write a paper on philosophers who justified what happened in Nazi Germany? Why did you let your character say: "I finally got this Nazi thing down" when he finally aced his homework?
Any book that has the sentence: "in theory there is an argument to be made for genocide" (page 106) does not deserve to be published.
Why did you think you could/should/had to discuss something as heavy as Nazi Germany in a jock sports romance book for teenagers when you write at sixth grade level? The lack of sensitivity is INSANE.
Why did you give your female main character the trauma of being sexually abused if you were going to have Garret manipulate her into kissing him while she is thinking "Just do it, you don't even have to like it" the whole time?
Why did you have a character tell her, a girl trying to heal from sexual abuse, that the only way other guys will like her is if they SEE HER AS A CHALLENGE and think they have COMPETITION. I can't even...
Why do I keep reading books that are overhyped? I guess we will never know.
Am I going to continue with this series?
Nah. I'm good.
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“I’ve never met anyone who’s so repulsed by my popularity, and I have no idea what to make of it. I think I might like it.”
“Yes, Hannah and I are friends. In fact, she’s the only female friend I’ve ever had. And yes, I want to keep being Hannah’s friend. But…I also want to sleep with her.”
💫“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”💫
“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.”
"Women aren't supposed to think, Wellsy. That's why your brains are smaller. Science proves it."
“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”
But I can’t stop. I gulp for air and shudder in his arms, and he strokes my hair and makes rough, soothing noises that only make me cry harder.
“I’m broken.”
My voice is muffled against his neck, but I hear his voice loud and clear as he says, “You’re not broken, baby. I promise.”
“You have the dirtiest mouth.”
“Yeah, but you still love me.”
Her breath hitches. “Yeah. I do.” Her green eyes shine up at me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” It’s the first time I’ve told a woman I love her, and it feels so damn right.