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1 " The sweatshirt was big on her and she looked ridiculous. He liked it. And he liked that she was wearing something that carried his scent. "
― Anne Bishop , Written in Red (The Others, #1)
2 " Sunny laughed. " It's okay. You're right, Emma. My name is unusual, but I like to think of it as... special also." Special?Sam cocked his head as he studied Sunny. Almost all of her hair had escaped out of her ponytail now. She wore a baggy pink sweatshirt and had on the kind of drawstring plaid pants that would've set Bozo the Clown's heart pitter-pattering with envy. Her yellow tennis shoes were covered with dog hair.Yeah, special was one word for her. "
3 " I guess I had always sort of fantasized that a guy would see me and get past the ponytail and the glasses and the giant sweatshirt to discover how insanely awesome I am, then come and whisk me off into that magical teenager fairytale where everyone else gets to prance around. "
― Jeff Sampson , Vesper (Deviants, #1)
4 " I pulled a dirty black sweatshirt from the laundry basket on my son’s floor and tried to drink in his scent, to savor the essence of my sweet boy. I inhaled it long and hard, wanting to permanently implant all of him in my brain, to make him last forever. "
5 " Nico looked very tall and thin wearing a opaque black sweatshirt hoodie and dark inked skinny jeans. His outer physical structure was handsome and gaunt, straight jet black hair razored and clipped in angles, a few purple highlights, and his white skin toned the color of alabaster. She had always liked the slender salamander type. He totally looked punk rock tonight, and that made him look absolutely awesome! A curtain of fog parted in front of him, giving him even more of the illusion as if he was part of a rock band at a rock band concert. Katty now saw Nico with exaggerated clarity. Nico Rocket looked so freakin' hot! He looked so good-looking at times, especially within the dark scenes of rolling fog and a pitchy darkness. She randomly wondered what he looked like before he was bit and turned into a Vampire. Had he been a Renaissance geek just like her? Before she could really examine him and fantasize of what he must have looked like before turning into a Vampire, the fog closed in all around him again, surrounding him with a ring of solitary imprisonment. He now lurked as a shadow among the shadows, disappearing into the illusion of gray’s. She didn't like him for not showing up on time, but all had been forgiven as soon as she had seen him all dressed up in his Gothic best. So what if he didn't believe in punctuality? His hotness sure made up for the rest! Through the fog, she saw his bright red eyes pierce through the heaviness of the darkness. He then broke free from the fog, leaving a trail of the thickened smoke lingering far behind, and wide. "
― Keira D. Skye , Bite!
6 " Outside, it feels like there is less standing between the Creator and us. There is a lingering visceral connection we can hear and see and smell, reminders of the bond between Creator and creation, like the mountain sage crushed up in the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing on a short, muddy hike the other day. “In "
― Cathleen Falsani , Sin Boldly: A Field Guide for Grace
7 " After a torrent of rapid knocking, Lucy swept past her in the hallway, threw her purse on the table, and landed her ass on the couch before turning expectantly toward Riley and patting the couch next to her. Her dark eyes examined every nuance of Riley’s appearance.“Okay, dish,” she demanded. “Every last detail.”Riley rolled her eyes and shook her head as she scooted across the floor in her sock feet. She didn’t feel great, but at least she wasn’t in full torture mode. She thought Lucy might have waited until afternoon instead of showing up at ten-thirty a.m. but what the hell. Her old sweatshirt hugged against her stomach as she pulled her arms together. “Well,” she feigned ignorance, “what do you want to talk about?”Lucy slammed her hand on the couch. “Oh, don’t you even. Right now.” She threw herself back against the couch, her face fixed in a not-to-be-toyed-with expression. Riley noted with mild interest how her breasts jiggled inside her white t-shirt. Maybe she was turning into some kind of sex fiend.“Okay, yes, he sets me on fire. I can’t help it. Blame my gender lineage.”“I could see he set you fire. Your eyes could hardly look at anything else.” She picked at a tear in her faded jeans then flared back at Riley with an expression of awe. “Of course, my eyes had a few spasms of their own in his direction. Shit, the man is a god. I can’t remember seeing a body that well put together. At least,” she arched her back, “not a male body.”Riley threw back her head and laughed. Lucy was good tonic, at the very least. “Oh my god, can you stand it?!”“No—but tell me you didn’t give in, before I pass out.”“No, we didn’t have sex. But he did kiss me and my panties nearly fell straight to my ankles,” she chuckled. “He stopped himself, thank god, or I would have had him right there on the floor.”“You were drunk.”“Oh, yeah, ridiculous drunk. He ordered steaks delivered while he drove me home, and then sliced the steak for me and practically put it in my mouth.” She couldn’t sit still, the memory forcing her up from the couch to pace. She’d spent the entire morning and half the night trying to forget everything about him, and of course the other half had been consumed with remembering everything about him. “Shit. Fire.” Lucy’s glance followed her. “I want some. Can we have him? "
― Lizzie Ashworth , His to Lose (Cannon Cousins, #4)
8 " RYLAN!" I feel Ivy's palm on my chest and, with a powerful shove, she pushes me back, away from fire, danger, and death. In that moment after the tree plunges, I see Ivy for a single second as I fall. In those emerald eyes is a look of complete calm, undying gratitude, and powerful, protective love.The tree crashes down, the sound echoing in my head.For an eternal moment, I sit there on my butt, staring at the spot where Ivy was standing. I'm numb, only registering the slightest changes; the wind dying down, the rain lessening.What just happened?Desperately, I look side to side, praying that Ivy jumped to the side and what I saw was just an illusion made up by my panicked mind.But Ivy's nowhere. And there's an arm sticking out from under the trunk." IVY!" I sprint to the fallen tree. The smoldering wood stings my hand when I grab the trunk, but I grit my teeth and bear it. Pulling with all my might, I throw the remains of the tree aside.Ivy's lying there, her eyes closed and her lower half on fire." No..." I fall to my knees and yank off my sweatshirt to try and smother the flames, but they burn strong, and soon the fabric's on fire. I toss it away, not knowing where it lands as I'm unable to tear my eyes off the most gut-wrenching sight of my life. My hands go to my head and my shouting grows even louder. " No, no, no!" This can't be happening. She can't be— "
9 " He's wearing his official university sweatshirt again, which puzzles me a little. I mean I'd sort of understand it more if it said Yale or Harvard or something, because then it would be a fashion choice. But why advertise the fact that you're at a university to all the other people who are at the university with you? "
― David Nicholls , Starter for Ten
10 " The wind picks up, but instead of putting his sweatshirt back on, he just fits the hood over his head. As he walks forward, it billows behind him like a cape. "
― Robin Roe , A List of Cages
11 " I took off my sweatshirt and dropped it on the grass and set off around the track. As soon as I started running, the world changed. The bodies spread out across the green of the football field were parts of a scene remembered, not one real at this moment. The secret of effort is to keep on, I told myself. Not for the world would I have stopped then, and yet nothing- not even if I had been turned handsome as a reward for finishing- could have made up for the curious pain of the effort. "
― Harold Brodkey
12 " It's a lost and lonely kind of feeling,To wake up wearing a disguise.I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, I don't know who I am There's little that I canFully recognize....But I'm taking small steps,'Cause I don't know where I'm going.I'm taking small stepsAnd I don't know what to say.Small steps, Trying to pull myself together, And maybe I'll discover A clue along the way....Just to make it through the day and not to get hurt,Seems about the best that I can hope.Like coffee stains splattered on your sweatshirt There isn't any pattern. Everything's uncertain.It's difficult to cope....But I'm taking small steps,'Cause I don't know where I'm going.I'm taking small steps,And I've forgotten how to play.Small steps, Trying to pull myself together, And maybe I'll discover,A clue along the way....And if someday my small steps bring me near you,Please don't rush to tell me all you feel.You don't have to speak for me to hear you. If I softly sigh, Look me in the eyeAnd let me know I'm real....Then we'll take small steps,'Cause we won't know where we're going.We'll take small steps,And we'll have too much to say.Small steps, Hand in hand we'll walk together, And maybe we'll discover A clue along the way....Small steps,'Cause I don't know where I'm goin'.Small steps,I just take it day to day.Small steps, Somehow get myself together, Then maybe I'll discoverWho I am on the way.... "
― Louis Sachar , Small Steps (Holes, #2)
13 " Heat radiated off Henry's face. Salty snot ran down his upper lip. A majestic fart propelled him to the top of Section 12, just at the springing of the stadium's curve. He slapped the sign as if high-fiving a teamate. It gave back a game shudder. He was crusing now, darkness be damned, stripping off his sweatshirt and his long underwear top without breaking stride. "
― Chad Harbach , The Art of Fielding
14 " Oh, right. She doesn’t know your secret identity.” Andy unzipped his sweatshirt and tossed it on a chair. “So, Meg Ryan just sent Tom Hanks a book but…” “No, Meg Ryan just sent NY152 a book, which was then overnighted to Tom Hanks, who lives above Meg Ryan and knows she’s Shopgirl, while she has no idea he’s NY152.” “I’m a little disturbed you know that movie so well.” “It was actually a remake of a 1937 play called Parfumerie by Miklós László.” Paul blew out a breath. “And it’s really not as fun as they made it sound.” “But hey, at least you can say you’ve got mail,” Andy said, chuckling. "
― Mary Jane Hathaway , The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River, #1)
15 " I feel like I've got a pretty relatively extensive Christmas sweatshirt collection. "
16 " I saw a woman wearing a sweatshirt with Guess on it. I said, Thyroid problem? "