I wanted to tell you that I just--I miss you. And maybe that sounds ridiculous--like we barely know each other, but between the emails and texts and... everything else, I felt like we did. Like we do. and I miss--I don't know how else to say it--I miss both of you.

It's not that i don't want you. I lied, earlier, when i said i was protecting you. I'm protecting myself. I don't want to be your rebound, Jacqueline." "Then why are you assuming that role? It's not what i want, either." "What am i gonna do with you?" "I can think of a couple things.

But I'll say this, if what looks like the facts of the matter are conflicting with your feelings, then you need more information before deciding

I could never be afraid of you.

Some of us can begin to heal the damage people have done to us by escaping the situation, but some of us need more than that. Tattoos make statements that need to be made. Or hide things that are no one’s business. Your scars are battle wounds, but you don’t see them that way. Yet.

Brooke?” I puff out a sigh. “For chrissake, Reid, who do you think it is? And haven’t you put me into your contacts yet?” “Yeah... It just says Satan, though, and I forgot I’d assigned that title to you.

Alarmed, I realized what my visceral reaction implied: jealousy. Over a guy I barely knew, with whom I’d exchanged more saliva than sentences.