Colleen Hoover, Hopeless

"It’s okay to feel whatever you need to feel. Just promise me that you will never, ever feel guilty. Promise me that you will never blame yourself. It’s not your fault. You’re just a little girl and it’s not your fault that your life is so much harder than it should be. And as much as you’ll want to forget these things ever happened to you and as much as you’ll want to forget this part of your life existed, I need for you to remember."

"I lower my mouth to his and kiss him softly. He closes his eyes and begins to ease his head against the bed. "Keep them open," I whisper, pulling away from his lips. He opens them, regarding me with and intensity that penetrates straight to my core. "I want you to keep them open...because I need you to watch me give you the very last piece of my heart."

"I'm kissing you because sometimes I can't not kiss you."

"You sort of don't find me attractive? That can also mean you sort of do find me attractive."

"My locker seems to have become the hub for sticky notes and nasty letters, none of which I ever see actually being placed on or in my locker. I really don’t get what people gain out of doing things like this if they don’t even own up to it. Like the note that was stuck to my locker this morning. All it said was, “Whore.”Really? Where’s the creativity in that? They couldn’t back it up with an interesting story? Maybe a few details of my indiscretion? If I have to read this shit every day, the least they could do is make it interesting. If I was going to stoop so low as to leave an unfounded note on someone’s locker,I’d at least have the courtesy of entertaining whoever reads it in the process. I’d write something interesting like, “I saw you in bed with my boyfriend last night. I really don’t appreciate you getting massage oil on my cucumbers. Whore.” I laugh and it feels odd, laughing out loud at my own thoughts. I look around and no one is left in the hallway but me. Rather than rip the sticky notes off of my locker like I probably should, I take out my pen and make them a little more creative. You’re welcome, passersby."

"You have a nice mouth," he says. "I can't stop looking at it."You should taste it. It's quite lovely."

"Karen shuts the back door and turns to me. “You know I trust you, but please…”“Don’t get pregnant,” I interrupt. “I know, I know. You’ve been saying that every time you leave for the past two years. I’m not getting pregnant, Mom. Only terribly high and cracked out.”She laughs and hugs me. “Good girl. And wasted. Don’t forget to get really wasted."

"I can't help but watch his lips as they cover the opening of the bottle that my lips were just touching. We're practically kissing."

"Does not-your boyfriend realize I'm Mormon"I nod. "It turns out, Holder doesn't have an issue with Mormons at all. He just has an issue with assholes."

"It's crap that you're letting on bad year determine your fate for the rest of your life."

"Feel free to look around, but being as though there aren't any people eighteen or older here, stay off the bed. I'm not allowed to get pregnant this weekend."

"It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it."

"It's amazing what the sound of a voice you've been longing to hear can do to your heart. He spoke five words just now, but in the time it took him to speak those five words, my heart was shredded and minced, then placed back inside my chest with the expectation that it should somehow know how to beat again."

"I pull his mouth to mine and I kiss him. I kiss him for always having the perfect thing to say. I kiss him for always being there for me. I kiss him for supporting whatever decision I think I might need to make. I kiss him for being so patient with me while I figure everything out. I kiss him because I can’t think of anything better than climbing back inside that car with him and talking about everything we’ll do when we get to Hawaii. - Sky"

"I live you," I whisper to him. He kisses my head again and signs into my hair. "I don't think I live you back anymore. I'm pretty sure I've moved beyond that. Actually, I'm positive I've moved beyond that, but I'm still not ready to say it to you. When I say it, I want it to be separate from this day. I don't want you to remember it like this."

"I love how you aren't weird and awkward, despite the fact that you've been severely cut off from socialization to the point where you make the Amish look trendy."

"My eyes trail from his hand to the tattoo written in small script across his forearm. Hopeless"

"You have to let it go. You can hold on to the hate and the love and even the bitterness, but you have to go of the blame. The blame is what's tearing you down, babe." -Sky"

"I stop stretching and face him, unwilling to back down from this visual standoff. I'm not going to let him perform his little Jedi mind tricks on me, no matter how much I wish I could perform them on him. He’s completely unreadable and even more unpredictable. It pisses me off."

"Your name. That’s all I want.” I debate on whether or not I should explain to him that my name isn't going to help him in his stalking endeavours."