A promise, a bond, a joy, a love for the ages, for the history books.…But what was love but pain?

That morning, she had found an envelope stuffed into her locker. It was from the Mercer Hotel, and held a plastic door key for their suite. "See you there tonight," Oliver had written. "Chomp! Chomp!

As an author you hope your characters have sparks but truly in the end they have minds of their own!

Thank you for loving me enough to let me go.

we laughed until we had to cry, we loved until we said goodbye.

Popularity was fickle and elusive, like trying to catch fireflies in a jar. You were either born with it or relegated to wallflower status according to your mysterious and unknowable workings of the universe.

Black is the color of night. White is the true color of death