JESSIE: I’m going to kill myself, Mama.
MAMA (returning to the sofa): Very funny. Very funny.
JESSIE: I am.
MAMA: You are not! Don’t even say such a thing, Jessie.
JESSIE: How would you know if I didn’t say it? You want it to be a surprise? You’re lying in your bed or maybe you’re just brushing your teeth and you hear this… noise down the hall?
MAMA: Kill yourself.
JESSIE: Shoot myself.
MAMA: It must be time for your medicine.
JESSIE: Took it already.
MAMA: What’s the matter with you?
JESSIE: Not a thing. Feel fine.
MAMA: You feel fine. You're just going to kill yourself.
JESSIE: Waited until I felt good enough, in fact.
MAMA: Don't make jokes, Jessie. I'm too old for jokes.
JESSIE: It's not a joke, Mama. Mama, I know you used to ride the bus. Riding the bus and it's hot and bumpy and crowded and too noisy and more than anything in the world you want to get off and the only reason in the world you don't get off is it's still fifty blocks from where you're going? Well, I can get off right now if I want to, because even if I ride fifty more years and get off then, it's the same place when I step down to it. Whenever I feel like it, I can get off. As soon as I've had enough, it's my stop. I've had enough.
“I don't like you, Park," she said, sounding for a second like she actually meant it. "I..." - her voice nearly disappeared - "think I live for you."
He closed his eyes and pressed his head back into his pillow.
"I don't think I even breathe when we're not together," she whispered. "Which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it's been like sixty hours since I've taken a breath. That's probably why I'm so crabby, and why I snap at you. All I do when we're apart is think about you, and all I do when we're together is panic. Because every second feels so important. And because I'm so out of control, I can't help myself. I'm not even mine anymore, I'm yours, and what if you decide that you don't want me? How could you want me like I want you?"
He was quiet. He wanted everything she'd just said to be the last thing he heard. He wanted to fall asleep with 'I want you' in his ears.
And I don’t have a weird thing with Simon Snow,” Cath said. “I’m just really active in the fandom.”
“What the fuck is ‘the fandom’?”
You wouldn’t understand,” Cath sighed, wishing she hadn’t used that word, knowing that if she tried to explain herself any further, it would just make it worse. Reagan wouldn’t believe—or understand—that Cath wasn’t just a Simon fan. She was one of the fans.
Ethan, broken, Juliet, Casie
The thing is, if people were books, Ethan would be a bestseller. A sexy, intelligent, page-turner
you’d find hard to put down, even after it reduced you to a sobbing mess.
Sayfa 174
Ethan, broken, Juliet, Casie
Dear Cassie,
I’ve been wanting to give this to you for ages, and after the incredible gift you gave me last
night, I figured the time felt right. I found it in a little antique shop in Milano while I was
touring Europe. I don’t know why it caught my eye, but I had to buy it for you.
The thing is, it’s not perfect. It’s had a lot of owners,
