Laurie Elizabeth Flynn Quotes

Because you were everything. You weren't one night, one experience I had to record for proof that it happened. You were so much more than that. I didn't write about you because I took it for granted that I would always have you.

We're all allowed to have one little secret.

I want to be just fast enough for Zach to have to run to catch up, because if I stay ahead, I won't ever have to see his retreating back.

His secret, like those of nine of his fellow seniors, is safe with me. At Milton High, I'm my own statistic. People fail to see the great equalizer, the one thing the band geeks, the drama nerds, the jocks, and the preppies all have in common.
Me-Mercedes Ayres.
The girl who took their virginity.

Maybe trust is the brake I'm looking for.

I feel fragile, like if somebody looked at me the wrong way I might shatter into a million pieces and never be whole again.

I'm so used to planning for guys, dressing and undressing for them and trying to morph myself into their dream girl. I'm so used to it that I don't really know where that girl ends and the real me begins. I suppose what it comes down to is confidence. I'm confident in that girl, the one who emerges from my walk-in wearing lingerie when I'm done getting ready. But at Faye's house, I'm not going to be that girl. I'm going to be me.
Whoever that is anymore.

The doorbell rings and I sink into a heap on the carpet. With any luck, whoever is down there will just go away.
But I'm just starting to think nothing goes away, no matter how deep you try to bury it.

I sound like a monster, like somebody who doesn't care about anyone but myself. Maybe I am.

That's your orgasm talking," I say. "You're not really in love with me."
"You can't tell me how I feel," he says. His voice gets quiet, trails off at the end. "I could be your boyfriend.

I roll over on my back and clutch the book against my chest; then I chuck it on the carpet. It's too heavy to rest on me, too full of history. Not all of it is bad. Some of the memories make me smile. Some of them make me mad. But more dangerously, some of them make me wonder what my life would be like as a girlfriend, what it would be like to have a regular relationship, with all its ups and downs and awkward moments.
I switch out my lamp and stare at the ceiling in the dark, taking a series of shaky breaths. I know that it's better this way, being the one in control. The one in control calls the shots, and the one in control sets the pace.
Most important of all, the one in control doesn't get hurt.

And her smile isn't fake. It's open and loving and I know she probably smiles like that at everybody, but it feels like that smile was meant just for me.

After all, lies that make other people feel better must be kind of okay.

Some people don't need to put a label on relationships.

I feel like the world just moves too fast for me to keep up.

I don't know how Angela will react to that, and this is why it's so hard telling the truth. People don't have a standard reaction. People aren't a chemistry experiment you can tinker with until the proportions are just right. People are terrifying that way.

I smile, bigger than I'm sure I ever have before, and his lips are on mine, and if this isn't the best kind of chemistry, I don't know what is.

Next Wednesday is part of our routine, another chance to spend lunch hour doing it somewhere else in Kim's immaculate house. Maybe on the white leather couch next time, the one she loves too much to even let me sit on.

I know you're in there, Mercedes," Faye says. "I can see your dirty Converse shoes. You really should get a new pair."

"Did you see it?" I croak. "If you saw it, you probably saw a lot more of me. You probably shouldn't be seen talking to me. And I should probably switch schools."

"That's the thing," Faye says, stopping right outside the stall door and rapping on the metal with her fist.

"What's the thing?" I say, pushing my shoe against the toilet paper dispenser, making no move to let her in.

"I never was any good at doing what people tell me."

And like that, her head appears under the stall door, followed by her body. She pulls herself in and wipes her hands on her jeans.

I raise my eyebrows. "You know how disgusting that floor is?" I say. "Janitorial service at this school leaves a lot to be desired."

She cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips. She looks like what I imagine a stern parent would look like, not that I know from experience. I wonder if she got that posture from Lydia.

"First of all, you didn't let me in, so I had no choice.

Fireworks don't just happen. They need to be carefully arranged and then ignited slowly.

It's funny how giving up control can actually end up putting things back in place. But that's what I'm learning, that too much of something ends up yielding the opposite reaction.

The more friends you have, the higher your chance of taking a knife in your back.