Home > Work > LoveLines (The Wilmington Saga, #1)
1 " Everyone’s pain is different,” Reece went on. “I don’t like when people compare. I don’t like when people marginalize their feelings because they think they’re not allowed to have them. Someone will always have a tougher go than you. Does that mean you’re not allowed to feel hurt? To be sad? "
― S. Walden , LoveLines (The Wilmington Saga, #1)
2 " I love you,” he said. “This couldn’t be a dumber place and time to tell you, I know. But, God, Bailey. I love you.” He paused. “I love you. "
3 " This guy had balls. Well, I mean, obviously he had balls. I hope he had balls. Bailey, stop thinking about his balls. "
4 " I just wanna belong, Bailey,” he said softly. “I wanna belong in your world with your friends and your hobbies and your gardens. That’s all. I wanna know everything about you, even if I have to bully it out of you. Put you on the spot. Make you uncomfortable. ‘Cause I can’t get enough of you. "
5 " I knew life moments happened that way. They made no sense, and I didn’t think we were supposed to make them. I think we were just supposed to experience them, grow from them, and hopefully come out the other side as better people. Life is nothing but juxtaposing the good with the bad. We have to learn how to handle both—how to cope with the frightening events and embrace the joyous ones. "
6 " Oh my God, he thought suddenly. I’ve got a hard-on. “You want some or what?” Bailey asked softly. Reece took the water and drank down a sizeable amount. He grew paranoid that she could see his hard-on, but that would be impossible. The lights were dim. There was an armrest between them. Relax, bro. You’re cool. She can’t see your . . . oh, wait a minute. There it goes. It’s going down. Phew! Thank God. How embarrassing would that have been, right? For her to see how much she turns me on? How much I can’t stop thinking about the kind of panties she wears under those cigarette pants. The way her tits look in her button-up tops. Man, I love how she buttons them all the way up . . . wait a minute. Hold up. I mean down! Go down! Stupid dick! "
7 " I have a condition!” I blurted. Silence. “Like an STD?” he asked. “God no! No! Oh my God.” I blushed profusely and turned my face, burying it in my pillow. “Okay. So, no STD,” Reece said. “By the way, it would have been okay if you had. We’d figure out how to work with it.” “Oh. My. God. Stop talking about STDs,” I demanded. “You got it. "
8 " I want Little Noah looking like a beat-up mess by the time he's eighteen.""Why?""Cause no woman wants a delicate man. He needs to be sporting at least five scars. "
9 " Life is nothing but juxtaposing the good with the bad. We have to learn how to handle both—how to cope with the frightening events and embrace the joyous ones. "
10 " I never got my Pompeii,” I said, low and even. “And you know I deserved every bit of it. But I’m not going to erupt all over you like I’m owed. Because I’ve already won. She’s not fucking you tonight. "
11 " You probably think I'm a floosy,” she went on. “A floosy?” he whispered back, and chuckled. “First off, I love that you said ‘floosy.’ Second, you’re crazy. I hope you kiss me like that again.” He leaned in close. “And again and again. "
12 " You’ve dated a shoplifter. A drug addict. A girl who claimed that her roommate kept her locked in a dumpster. She was admitted to Mulberry not too long ago, if I recall, right? They diagnosed her with schizophrenia.” Reece nodded reluctantly. “For the record, I only dated her for two months. And also for the record, she’s doing a lot better.” “Hmm,” Camden replied. “There’s the one who put salt on all her food then complained incessantly of bloating problems. Oh yeah! And the one who wanted you to tie her up and beat the shit out of her every night.” “All right already!” Reece snapped. “I get it. I haven’t had the best of luck with normal women. "
13 " Pretty nipples,” he said. “Pretty breasts.” Her breathing turned shallow. “Pretty arms and neck and collarbone,” he went on. “Pretty little thing.” “Reece . . .” He cocked his head and looked into her eyes. “I bet you have a pretty little pussy, too. "
14 " Beboppin’ Bailey,” he whispered. She chuckled. “Better Than All the Rest Bailey.” She nuzzled his neck. “Best Decision I Ever Made Bailey.” “Oh, stop it,” she said. “Bet on That Girl Bailey.” He kissed her forehead. “I have about a trillion more. We’re gonna be here a while. "
15 " Yes, these are the thoughts that occupy my brain on a daily basis: How many steps to take. How many hairbrush strokes. Making sure I line up my proofreading pens just so. Making sure my make-up is just so. Sitting in my fucking desk chair just so. It’s exhausting living a “just so” life. And I don’t want to do it, but the idea of not counting, not arranging, not tic-ing sends my heart reeling with anxiety. "
16 " Bailey Mitchell! Get your ass down here right now! I need to change your last name!” Reece said. "
17 " You know what I mean,” I said. “You want to be the mother who all the other mothers gossip about? Like about how bad your parenting skills are?” Erica placed her hand on her hip. “Yeah, I do. Fuck ‘em. Fuck all those mothers. Fuck their playdates and mommy groups and fucking Melissa and Doug puzzles. Fuck their running strollers and baby couture and breastfeeding advice. Fuck their— "
18 " I expect the world from you, as I should, because you’re amazing and talented and funny and sweet. You’re sexy as hell and clever and smart and capable of so many things. So yeah. I expect a hell of a lot from you. And I also expect that you can be successful in managing your OCD. I’m proud of you, Bailey. "
19 " He came at me, slamming me up against the door, and kissing me hard. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he said into my mouth. Well, this was confusing. “You and your fucking pens and the tapping and . . . oh my God . . . "
20 " Bailey. I’m gonna make you live a little.” “Hey! Now wait just a minute, buster! I do live. I recall being the surfer in this relationship. Not you.” “Oh my God ,” Reece replied, his face lighting up. “That’s perfect! Let’s fuck on your surfboard!” I stared at him. “Seriously. Let’s just—” He thrust his hips forward a few times. “— just fucking go at it on your surfboard.” “Oh my God,” I mumbled. “What? It’s totally hot. "