Jennifer Sturman Quotes

I was Juliet and Quinn was Romeo, and the lines weren't dead black-and-white words on a page but somehow alive, as natural and real as the argument we'd had about the spider and the fly. The rows of empty seats were gone, and we were in a candlelit ballrooom, wrapped in our own cocoon of words. But the playful banter of our words couldn't mask what we both knew
that after this, nothing would be the same .
And then we got to the kissing part, which we'd only read through together and had never really rehearsed. But it didn't matter, because I was still Juliet and Quinn was still Romeo, his gray-green eyes fixed on mine. And when he bent to kiss me, it was Romeo's lips on Juliet's.
Even so, Juliet was just as stunned as I would've been. When I said the last line, I was speaking for both of us. You kiss by the book.

As if on cue, Fiona appeared in another of the ballroom's multiple doorways. 'Beatrice! Oliver! How many times have I told you no skating in the house? I just had these floors refinished.'
'So that's why it's extra slippery today,' mused Oliver. 'Cool.

That was Hunter,' said Quinn as his father's footsteps faded away.
'I figured. Since he said to call him Hunter and everything.

I can't today," I said. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Can't tomorrow," said Quinn. "I have a family thing. I guess we're logistically star-crossed, Juliet."
Sometimes Quinn calls me Juliet because of how we had to do that scene together, and whenever he does it's good for another bout of brain paralysis. So all I could manage back was "Oh."
"But I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said.
I didn't even try to say anything else but just nodded, wondering as I did what would happen next. The steps had largely emptied by then.
But before I could do much wondering, Quinn's lips were on mine.
And this time it definitely counted.

He turned to me. "Call me later?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
"I promise," I said.
And then he leaned down and kissed me. And this time it wasn't Romeo kissing Juliet. It was Quinn kissing Delia. And that was even better.

Do you care about your image?' Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I was mentally kicking myself. He'd been kidding around, and meanwhile I sounded like an afternoon special. But he didn't seem to mind.
'Sure. It's my armor.'
'Your what?' The WALK sign flashed, and he put a hand on my elbow as we crossed the street. And yes, even that faint pressure on that small spot made my entire arm tingle.
'My armor. You know. Self-protective camouflage. Everybody has an armor. Even you, I bet, even though I still haven't figured out what form yours takes.