Can I ask you for an insanely huge and just plain insane favor?” I ask.
“Okaaay?”
“Can I borrow your iPod? Just for the day? If you give me your name and address, I’ll have it messengered over to you. I promise you’ll have it back by tomorrow’s run.”
He shakes his head, laughs. “One butt-crack-of-dawn run a weekend is enough for me, but yeah, you can borrow it. The buzzer on my building doesn’t work, so just deliver it to Nick at the Southside Café on Sixth Avenue in Brooklyn. I’m in there every morning.”
“Nick. Southside Café. Sixth Avenue. Brooklyn. I won’t forget. I promise.
Where She Went (If I Stay #2) by Gayle Forman
“I can’t do this anymore!” I yell as the carnivorous waves come for me.
Again, I scream, “I can’t do this anymore!” I’m yelling to the waves and to Liz and Fitzy and Mike and Aldous, to our record executives and to Bryn and Vanessa and the paparazzi and the girls in the U Mich sweatshirts and the scenesters on the subway and everyone who wants a piece of me when there aren’t enough pieces to go around. But mostly I’m yelling it to myself.
“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!” I scream louder than I’ve ever screamed in my life, so loud my breath is knocking down trees in Manhattan, I’m sure of it. And as I battle with invisible waves and imaginary vortexes and demons that are all too real and of my own making, I actually feel something in my chest open, a feeling so intense it’s like my heart’s about to burst. And I just let it. I just let it out.
Where She Went (If I Stay #2) by Gayle Forman
I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it. I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.
Where She Went (If I Stay #2) by Gayle Forman
“What, is there some club?” I ask, my voice starting to crack. “A grief club that I can’t join?”
I expect her to tell me no. Or that I’m a member. After all, I lost them, too. Except even back then, it had been different, like there’d been a barrier. That’s the thing you never expect about grieving, what a competition it is. Because no matter how important they’d been to me, no matter how sorry people told me they were, Denny and Kat and Teddy weren’t my family, and suddenly that distinction had mattered.

Where She Went (If I Stay #2) by Gayle Forman

Everyone walked on eggshells around me. But with you, it was painful that you couldn’t be real with me. I mean, you barely even touched me.”
“You were healing,” is my pathetic reply. “And if I recall, when we did try, you freaked.”
“Once,” she says. “Once.”
“All I wanted was for you to be okay. All I wanted was to help you. I would’ve done anything.”
She drops her chin to her chest. “Yes, I know. You wanted to rescue me.”
“Damn, Mia. You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Where She Went (If I Stay #2) by Gayle Forman

I try not to envy him. It’s disgusting to waste time envying those things when whole families, whole tribes, get slaughtered in their thousands in Africa, when leaky boatloads of refugees drown or starve in their hundreds in the open sea, and the children of those that do make it here have to grow up behind razor wire, watching their parents slide into insanity. When houses, families, towns get washed away in a day. I disgust myself when I covet things from Ro’s life. But then, we humans have always coveted each other’s oxen, haven’t we?

Love and Other Perishable Items by Laura Buzo

When I think about her life in Perth, I feel jealousy like a sickness. I can taste it in my mouth and feel it pulsing through every cell in my body. It expands my capillaries. It thuds in my ears. I don’t mean just jealous of Brad. That’s not casting the net nearly wide enough. I am jealous of her family: her parents, sisters, uncles, aunts and cousins, who see her all the time, who get to celebrate with her every Christmas and birthday. I am jealous of all her mates, who get to go for walks on the beach with her after class, who play soccer with her on Sundays, who drink with her at the session afterward, who come over to watch campy movies every Monday night. I’m jealous of the bus drivers whom she buys tickets off, for their moment of proximity when she dips her bus ticket into the ticket reader. I’m jealous of the salesclerks who get to sell her packs of chewing gum and newspapers, for the momentary greetings and brushes of skin when she hands over her money. I’m jealous of the hot water from the shower that slides over her skin and soaks into her hair. I’m jealous of the mirrors that reflect the brilliant brown warmth of her eyes. I’m jealous of the pillow on which she lays her cheek at night. Bastards, all of them. They have so much and I have nothing.

Love and Other Perishable Items by Laura Buzo

So,” she said, disrupting Wolf in another backward glance. “Who would win in a fight—you or a pack of wolves?”
He frowned at her, all seriousness. “Depends,” he said, slowly, like he was trying to figure out her motive for asking. “How big is the pack?”
“I don’t know, what’s normal? Six?”
“I could win against six,” he said. “Any more than that and it could be a close call.”
Scarlet smirked. “You’re not in danger of low self-esteem, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing at all.” She kicked a stone from their path. “How about you and … a lion?”
“A cat? Don’t insult me.”
She laughed, the sound sharp and surprising. “How about a bear?”
“Why, do you see one out there?”
“Not yet, but I want to be prepared in case I have to rescue you.”
The smile she’d been waiting for warmed his face, a glint of white teeth flashing. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had to fight a bear before.
Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) by Marissa Meyer
Wolf inclined his head. “Climb onto my back.”
“I can jump myself.”
“Scarlet.”
She met his eyes. His youthful curiosity from before was gone, replaced with a sternness she hadn’t expected.
“What? It’ll be just like jumping off the barn into a haystack. I’ve done that a hundred times.”
“A haystack? Honestly, Scarlet, it’ll be nothing like that.”
Before she could argue, before she could cement her defiance, he bent over her and scooped her into both arms.
She gasped and had just enough time to open her mouth, ready to demand he put her down, before Wolf was on the windowsill, the wind whipping Scarlet’s curls against her neck.
He jumped. Scarlet yelped and grabbed on to him, her stomach somersaulting, and then the shock of landing jogged up her spine.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders. Every limb trembled.
Wolf had landed in a clearing eight steps beyond the tracks. He staggered into the tree line and hunkered into the shadows.
“All right?” he asked.
“Just like”—she caught her breath—“a haystack.”
A laugh reverberated through his chest, into her, and before she was ready Wolf settled her feet onto a patch of squishy moss. She scrambled out of his hold, caught her balance, then punched him squarely in the arm. “Never do that again.”
Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) by Marissa Meyer
Scarlet clicked off her port and picked up her espresso. The scent seemed suddenly too strong, too bitter. “That actually looks pretty good.”
“Surprisingly high in protein,” he said, taking a drink.
Scarlet took another sip from her cup and found that her taste buds disapproved. She set it back down on the saucer. “If you were a gentleman, you would offer to buy me one as well.”
“If you were a lady, you would have waited for me to make the offer.”
Scarlet smirked, but the man was already beckoning to the bartender and ordering a second chocolate milk.

Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) by Marissa Meyer