She's like poetry. Like prose and love letters and lyrics, cascading down the center of a page. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. I say her name over and over in my head, because I'm positive it's the name of the next girl I'll fall in love with.
Love isn’t always pretty, Tate. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it’ll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you’re back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way.