Elizabeth Norris Quotes

And the way it felt?" I whisper, as if that might soften the blow of embarrassment I'm about to deal. "Is that how you were feeling - how you feel - about me?"
A breeze comes off the ocean, and my skin feels strangely empty and open as he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

I didn't used to be like this. I didn't believe in love and romance and swooning. My default setting was bitch

Instead of responding to me, he shakes his head and walks out of the room. And because I'm me, I follow. We are not done with this conversation.

When the zipper snaps open, Ben pauses, his breath hot in my ear. "Janelle Tenner," he whispers. "I fucking love you.

Janelle, you're my home.

the book I was reading turned out to be crack

Humans have precious few instincts, but that's because we don't listen to them. We let logic and knowledge get in the way. My dad always said that when instincts are at war with something society has taught you, listen to your instincts first and ask questions later.

And the emotion I feel is undoubtedly love-heart aching, chest filling, so powerful it hurts, like on of these memories of someone watching me, someone whose happiest moments are when he sees me smile, and someone who aches and feels powerless and heartbroken when he knows I'm sad. Someone who loves me.

I'd chosen this spot. We'd tried to get out in the water once, but it was summer and people were everywhere. Even at night, there were bonfire parties and midnight surfers. We'd all snuck out and come here at three in the morning a few weeks ago, but nothing had worked right. It was too hard to concentrate and work to stay afloat offshore. Plus, there were jellyfish everywhere, and once Eli got stung, he refused to go back in.

Giving up on something is like admitting you never wanted it in the first place.

Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling off his body in waves.
I was always the kid who loved the smell of gasoline.
His free hand comes up, and his fingers slip through my hair before his hand settles between my shoulder blades.
"Ben," I say into his shirt.
"Janelle," he whispers back, and I can feel his mouth against my hair. I can feel him smile.

Okay, so two people who are in love - they are who they are when they're apart, but when they're together, the fact that they're in love is supposed to make them better. Love and relationships are supposed to make people better.

The pivotal moments in your life are always made up of smaller pieces, things that seemed insignificant at time, but in fact brought you to where you needed to be.

So your perfect proposal, what would it be?" Ben asks. "Seriously?" ... "I don't know. It would just be the two of us, and I guess I'd want him to say something honest, not overly romantic, not something that would make a great story to tell his friends. I'd just want him to lean over ... " As I say it, I lean slightly toward Ben, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body radiating into the empty space between us, and drop the volume of my voice. " ... and say 'Janelle Tenner, fucking marry me.

This is the second fucking time I've gotten shot when I was with you. I don't think we can be friends anymore.

You suck at working with someone, I say, because it's true.

Lives are made of strings of moments, and every once in a while, one of those moments is pivotal and defining. It changes everything, alters you so completely that when you look back, there's a clear before and after

He takes two steps back. Closer to the portal.
I can't stop myself. "Ben," I call. And I'm not even embarrassed about how helpless my voice sounds.
Don't go.
"I'll come back for you." He takes another step back. "I promise."
Stay.
"Janelle Tenner," he says. "I will always fucking love you." And then he takes one more step back. Into the portal.
And the blackness swallows him whole.

Those deep set eyes that look like they could tell stories for days, and that wavy brown hair that feels soft between my fingers. I try to memorize the angles of his jaw and the lines of his lips, because I know.
I know this may be the last time I ever see him.
Breathe fills my lungs, my throat relaxes, and I can't help but smile. Because I can see what he's thinking as clearly as if he'd spoken.
He doesn't want to leave - he doesn't want to go home.
He's going to choose me instead.

Apparently this month is full of surprises. No one is as dumb as I thought they were.

I was here.
I lived.
I mattered.
This is a good way to go.