Don't Call Me Again Quotes & Sayings

Hey, bro, do you think you can put Shorty back on her chain?"
I stepped forward with my hands on my hips, only slightly intimidated to find Kaleb almost eye level with me when he was seated and I was standing.
"First of all, no one is the boss of me but me. Secondly, if you ever reference my 'chain' again, I will kick your ass." I jabbed him hard in the chest with my finger. Possibly breaking it. "And thirdly, don't call me Shorty."
Kaleb sat silently for a second, his eyes wide as he looked at Michael. "Where did you get her? Can you get me one?"
I blew out a loud, frustrated sigh and dropped down beside Michael, who didn't even try to hide his smile. "You should probably apologize to Emerson."
"I am sorry." Kaleb grinned at me. "Sorry I didn't meet you first. — Myra McEntire

And maybe love is terrifying. I'm terrified now, but not in the way she would think.
I'm terrified because I hate who she is and what she's done, I do, and yet there is still something strong and powerful between us, some kind of deep, primal bond that won't end, won't snap or break or change, it just remains there inside me, as sold and factual as my blood and bones - she is my mother, I am her daughter - and I don't know what to call it because it doesn't feel like love, not the good kind I felt for Ellie, with all my heart, but instead an instinctual pull that's been there from the beginning, drawing me back to her again and again, the woman who has hurt me like no one else ever could, and now she's dying and the bond is still here, inside me, and I won't call it love or hate because emotions has nothing to do with the fact that she is my mother and I am her daughter, and we will be connected in that way forever. — Laura Wiess

When Phil and I hit that one spot where I call it 'The Everly Brothers,' I don't know where it is. 'Cause it's not me and it's not him. It's the two of us together. I sing the lead, and so I can drift off. Then we'll come back in together and the whole thing happens again. It amazes me sometimes. — Don Everly

I thought she'd [her mother] offer me some sympathy. Instead, she said, 'Don't you ever call me crying again! You wanted to be in this business, so you better toughen up!' And I did. — Jennifer Lopez

Come on," he droned, "I've been ordered to take you down to the bridge. Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? 'Cos I don't."
He turned and walked back to the hated door.
"Er, excuse me," said Ford following after him, "which government owns this ship?"
Marvin ignored him.
"You watch this door," he muttered, "it's about to open again. I can tell by the intolerable air of smugness it suddenly generates. — Douglas Adams

I don't quite know... but... something needs to change in my life. The incident earlier today... it's left me in a very odd mood. I'm not sure what needs to occur, or how, or when.. but I can feel it. It's almost... I feel so damned restless. I can't adequately explain it, even to you, because I'm not sure what I'm talking about. But... something's out there, and I need to be ready for it."
Alistair was still, expression strange and unreadable. "And are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Ready for change. And before you reply, let me caution you: fate, or destiny, or God, or whatever you call it, has an uncanny way of supplying what you ask for. But the strangest thing is, often we don't consider the ramifications of our request. There's an old saying that warns some things in life are not for the faint of heart. So, I'll ask again: are you ready for this... this change? Even if it turns your life completely and irrevocably upside down? — D.R. Ranshaw

I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you. — Dorothy Parker

And me, I've got to start all over. Not only build a new life, but construct a new person. I call my old self "that other guy," for I share nothing but his memories, and everything he ever liked I've had to discover all over again, one by one, so that I've held on to, for example, reading, motorcycling, and birdwatching, but I'm not yet sure about art or music (I can look at it or listen to it, but not with the same "engagement" I used to), and I have no interest in work, charity, world events, or anybody I don't know. In my present gypsy life, I encounter a lot of people every day, and some of them I instinctively like and respond to in a brief encounter at a gas station or small-town diner, but for the most part I look around at ugly and mean-spirited people and think, "Why are you alive? — Neil Peart

Don't ever cancel my call again! I told you I would talk to you, you should have waited ... "
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Mr. Edge, it is 5pm, I assumed my working day was done and I cancelled the phone call by accident, this phone is new, still working it out" I made it up as I went along and was surprised by my ability to lie on my feet.
"Melissa, don't play stupid. Get your arse back here or I will hunt it down and drag it back" He ordered and made me hold my breath — Mercy Cortez

-You're pretty hard-boiled, Tinker Bell.
-Call me that name again and you'll be wondering how your bollocks wound up lodged in your windpipe
from below. Just because we don't get to your side of things much anymore doesn't mean we don't know anything. 'If you believe in fairies, clap your hands!' If you believe in fairies, kiss my rosy pink arse is more like it. Now are you going to shut your gob or not? — Tad Williams

I don't say this to hurt you, love." The endearment slipped out without me even thinking about it.
( ... )
"Say it again," he said. "Call me your love. — Jessica Verday

He's not my lover," Isolfr said.
She raised an eyebrow, a long feathery, shaggy sweep. "You're his beloved. Both of them. I saw enough on the war-trail to know." Then she laughed, and took her hand off his and pushed his chest like a wolf-cub nudging playfully. "We don't get to pick who loves us, you know. And better to get him to write the song than be remembered forever as 'fair Isolfr, the cold.'"
He scrubbed a hand across his face, roughness of beard and scars and the smooth skin of the unmarked cheek. "Is that really what they call me?"
She smiled. "You frighten them, Viradechtisbrother. You went down under the mountain and came out again, twice, and the alfar call you friend. They'll have you among the heroes before you know it. And you can seem quite untouchable - 'ice-eyes, and ice-heart, and ice-hard, his will.'"
"Othinn help me. It is a song already. — Sarah Monette

Juliette"
I inhale too quickly. A stifled cough is balloning in my throat.
His glassy green eyes glint in my direction.
"Are you not hungry?"
"No, thank you."
He licks his bottom lip into a smile.
"Don't confuse stupidity for bravery, love. I know you haven't eaten anything in days."
Something in my patioence snaps. "I'd rather die than eat your food and listen to you call me love," I tell him.
Adam drops his fork. Warner spares him a swift glance and when he looks at my way again his eyes have hardened. He holds my gaze fo a few infinitely long seconds before he pulls a gun out of his jacket pocket. He fires. — Tahereh Mafi

Are you two finished beatin' the hell out of each other? Mason, you slept with his sister, you know he deserved to get that punch in. Bellemy, you got your hit in. Now, leave it alone. He obviously loves her if he was willin' to call me for help."

Clay lifted his mug again, taking another sip before he continued.

"Next one of you to throw a punch is out of here and won't get to know what is goin' on. It's a courtesy that I even let either of you in here or tell you the details of the investigation. Don't take advantage of my kind nature. — Alex Morgan

I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That-" Lauren choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Nick replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Lauren clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may mrely be some frivolous, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Jim needs me."
"I need you,honey.I've been here since-"
"Don't you dare call me honey!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me honey again," Lauren promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Lauren had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked. — Judith McNaught

May I see you again?" he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice.
I smiled. "Sure."
"Tomorrow?" he asked.
"Patience, grasshopper," I counseled. "You don't want to seem overeager.
"Right, that's why I said tomorrow," he said. "I want to see you again tonight. But I'm willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow." I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious," he said.
"You don't even know me," I said. I grabbed the book from the center console. "How about I call you when I finish this?"
"But you don't even have my phone number," he said.
"I strongly suspect you wrote it in this book."
He broke out into that goofy smile. "And you say we don't know each other. — John Green

It's midnight!" he says frantically, slapping at the door. "Call her. Call your roommate!"
"Oh, shit," I mutter. I retrieve my phone and begin to dial Emory's number.
"I was about to dial 911," Emory says as she answers.
"Sorry, we almost forgot."
"Do you need to use the code word?" she asks.
"No, I'm fine. I already locked him out, so I don't think he's going to murder me tonight."
Emory sighs. "That sucks," she says. "Not that he didn't murder you," she adds quickly. "I just really wanted to hear you say the code word."
I laugh. "I'm sorry my safety disappoints you."
She sighs again. "Please? Just say it for me one time."
"Fine," I say with a groan. "Meat dress. Are you happy?"
There's a quiet pause before she says, "I don't know. Now I'm not sure if you said the code word just to make me happy or if you're really in danger. — Colleen Hoover

True names," said September wonderingly. "These are all true names. Like, when your parents call you to dinner and you don't come and they call again but you still don't come, and they call you by all your names together, and then, of course, you have to come, and right quick. Because true names have power, like Lye said. But I never told anyone my true name. The Green Wind told me not to. I didn't understand what he meant, but I do now. — Catherynne M Valente

That doesn't make any sense."

"Nothing makes any sense anymore. Like, why am I talking to you? Why am I telling you this when you don't care?"

This question, at least, I knew the answer to. "But that's why you're telling me." I knew it was true. If we'd had the opportunity to deliver our confessions to anyone who actually cared about their contents, there was no way either of us would've opened our mouths. Sharing revelations is easier when it doesn't matter.

She was quiet. I heard other girls' voices in the background, high, wordless streams of conversation, followed by the hiss of running water, and then silence again. "Okay," she said.

"Okay, what?" I asked.

"Okay, maybe you can call me. Sometime. Now you have my number."

I didn't even have time to say bye before she hung up. — Maggie Stiefvater

Don't ever call me "kitten paws" again and don't tell me I need acting lessons or the next thing you'll be eating between two slices of bread will be a certain supersensitive part of your anatomy. — Sarah Morgan

You make me feel too human, Joe. All I want is peace and quiet, not love. I'm a tired old lady, Joe, and I don't mind being what you call "half dead." In fact it's what I like. The twice I was in love I took an awful beating and I don't want it again! I want you to stop it! Don't devil me, Joe. I beg you, don't devil me ... — Clifford Odets

Don't ever call me adorable again. Puppies are adorable. — Dean Koontz

Leo plunked the cheese wheel in front of me. "Cut me a wedge of this, my good ma. Chop-chop!"
I scowled at him. "Don't test me, Valdez. When I am a god again, I will make a constellation out of you. I will call it the Small Exploding Latino."
"I like it!" He patted my shoulder, causing my knife to jiggle.
Did no one fear the wrath of the gods any more? — Rick Riordan

I'm by myself," she said finally. "No family to speak of."
"I see." Leaning forward again, he rested his arms against the table. "That must be rather difficult."
"Sometimes."
"And lonely, I imagine. Perhaps that is why you came here tonight?"
Her jaw popped under the strain of maintaining decorum. "First: I said I was alone, not lonely. There's a big difference. And second: is that really why you think I'm here?"
"I do not know what to think. I know you must have reasons for being here other than what you have already hinted at. Reasons important enough to make an otherwise intelligent woman not only bring food to a stranger so late at night, but also accept his invitation to sit inside an empty motel room without a second thought."
"Why don't you just call me a hooker while you're at it? — Angela B. Wade

Don't let another man, tight wearing fairy or not, help you out of your clothes again," he said, his eyes narrowing just enough to know some scalding emotions were firing through him right now. "If you need help out of so much as a sock, you call me, you got it? That's my job. — Nicole Williams

He isn't like most guys, you know?'
I know.'
No, but do you really know? I mean here's the deal, what do most guys want from a woman? I'll tell you what we want. We want a warm body to sleep next to, preferably one with a nice pair of tits, maybe someone who'll cook for us and fuck us on a regular basis. Pretty simple, huh? Now, what we don't want is someone who's going to come in and disrupt our lives and steal our souls. That's what we fear most. We call it our freedom, but it's our souls we're talking about. You following me?'
I nodded.
Okay, good. Now forget it. Forget all that,' Pete said. 'Because Jacob's not like that. He's never been like that. He's a damn fool and he wants the exact opposite of all that. He wants someone to obsess over, someone to possess his soul, and those are his corny words, by the way, not mine. It's what he lives for. It's what he thinks life's all about. Do you get what I'm saying?'
I nodded again. — Tiffanie DeBartolo

There just isn't enough cock in this world to be caught suckin' and be called anything but a slut for life. The cynic in me would call it a bad habit, but that'd make me a whore in denial and if there's one thing I am, it's an honest bitch. Then again, you don't get famous for being daddy's little angel, but you can easily fall into the Infamy Bracket by preaching a made-up Bible quote now and again. They say I'm shallow, but I've made a living out off diving off the deep end. — Dave Matthes

I'm just really glad to hear that things are going well."
"Wait, you're not getting ready to hang up on me, are you?" he asks. "We've only been talking for a couple minutes."
"Well, I don't really have much else to say."
"Are you kidding? The possibilities are endless. For starters, you could tell me that you'll call me again. Or, better yet, you could ask me out for coffee or a slice of pizza. Of course, letting me know that I can call you whenever I want is always a good possibility. Or, if you're feeling really generous, you could tell me that you miss me, too. I mean, I wouldn't even care if it was a lie. — Laurie Faria Stolarz

Fine." He leans his face closer to mine, his eyes focusing on my chin, and my lips, and my nose. "I watched you because I like you." He says it plainly, boldly, and his eyes flick up to mine. "And don't call me 'Four,' okay? It's nice to hear my name again. — Veronica Roth

Virgin, right? the voice asks again. It comes from the tall one with white-blond hair falling into his eyes. Frankie is still giggling, and my entire body goes hot and red, despite the chill in the water. If Frankie thinks she's just going to auction me off, well ... I don't know. It's kind of hard to be witty when you're trying to call forth a giant sea squid to swallow you up and drag you down to the depths of the ocean floor, never to be seen, heard from, or mocked again. — Sarah Ockler

Are you with us?" Prince Jake asked. I said. "Don't call me 'Prince.'" I said again. — Katherine Applegate

This is the best time, Tatiana," Alexander said. "Do you want to know why?" "Please don't tell me." "There will never be a time like this again. Never this simple, this uncomplicated." "You call this uncomplicated?" Tatiana shook her head. "Of course." Alexander paused. "We're just friends, walking through Leningrad in the lucent dusk. — Paullina Simons

I want to know why you don't like me, Malloy. I like you, even if you do hit people."
He sighed. "I never said I didn't like you, Mrs. Brandt."
Reasonable again. She wanted to smack him. "And why don't you ever call me Sarah? You think I'm beautiful, but you never call me Sarah."
He muttered something she didn't understand.
"You do think I'm beautiful," she insisted. "You said so!"
"Yes, I do," he said grudgingly. "And I do like you, Sarah. Now let's talk about something else, because you're going to be very embarrassed if you remember any of this conversation tomorrow. — Victoria Thompson

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Jace said softly from my right.
"Call me that again, and I'll tell the whole Pride you sleep in Scooby-Doo underwear."
"I don't sleep in Scooby-Doo underwear. Hell, I don't sleep in any underwear. — Rachel Vincent

Honey?" she asks. "Don't call me that," I snap. "What? Honey?" she asks. "Yes," I snap again. "What do you want me to call you?" she asks, indignantly. "CEO?" She stifles a giggle. "Oh Christ." "No, really Patrick. What do you want me to call you?" King, I'm thinking. — Bret Easton Ellis

There is the love that I love but don't want to love and try to bleed out so the love that I want but don't want, can die a tragic death. And as it lays dying, I'm touched with remorse, feel regret, and try to keep it beating. If it does, I panic, and go through the cycle all over again. What do you call that except pure madness? I'm a catastrophic tsunami on any man who tries to love me. And if I really care about a man, you would think I would be sweet and supportive, but instead I set fires and dare them to walk through them. — Donna Lynn Hope

The terrorist attacks were a tragedy for the people who died or were injured, and for their families and friends. For the rest of us, they were a wake-up call as to what type of lunatics we are dealing with. And sleepwalking our way back into ill-sorted, dewy-eyed people personal politics is the last thing we need to set us up for the fight ahead. Come on you liberals, don't give me the morbid pleasure of saying, 'I told you so' again. — Julie Burchill

I lost something after Hailey died. I'm not sure what to call it, but it's the device that stops ypu from telling the truth when people ask you how you're doing, that vital valve that keeps you deeper, truer emotions under lock and key. I don't know exactly when I lost it, or how to get it back, but for now when it comes to tact, civility, and discretion, I'm an accident waiting to happen, over and over again.
Socially, that makes me something of a liability. — Jonathan Tropper

Oh, see then, the Simi is not in trouble. I just kill the Greek god and all's fine. (Simi)
You can't kill a Greek god, Simi. It's not allowed. (Acheron)
There you go again, akri, saying no to the Simi. Don't eat that, Simi. Don't kill that, Simi. Stay here, Simi. Go to Katoteros, Simi, and wait for me to call you. I don't like being told no, akri. (Simi) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

This was all an excuse, I think. I was doing fine. I had a 93 average and I was holding my head above water. I had good friends and a loving family. And because I needed to be the center of attention, because I needed something more, I ended up here, wallowing in myself, trying to convince everybody around me that I have some kind of ... disease. I don't have any disease. I keep pacing. Depression isn't a disease. It's a pretext for being a prima donna. Everybody knows that. My friends know it; my principal knows it. The sweating has started again. I can feel the Cycling roaring up in my brain. I haven't done anything right. What have I done, made a bunch of little pictures? That doesn't count as anything. I'm finished. My principal just called me and I hung up on him and didn't call back. I'm finished. I'm expelled. I'm finished. — Ned Vizzini

Shhhh," Johnny soothed, sliding his hands up and down her back, nuzzling her hair. "Car thieves don't cry, baby. You gotta toughen up if you're gonna have a future with good old Clyde here."

"I like it when you do that."

"What?"

"Call me baby," Maggie whispered.

"You liked it when I called you Bonnie too," he replied with a smile in his voice. "Why?"

"You used to call me baby all the time. It makes me believe you can love me again."

Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and lifted her to him, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks before he touched his lips to hers.

"I'm already there Maggie. I fell in love when you begged me to help you escape the cops. I fell in love when we danced to Nat King Cole singing 'Stardust' on a moonlit beach. Hell, I fell in love when you told me how blondes spell farm."

"E-I-E-I-O," Maggie quipped wetly.

Johnny laughed and held her tightly. — Amy Harmon

Don't you ever feel like, what if the world really IS messed up? What if we COULD Do it all over again from scratch? No more war. Nobody homeless. No more summer reading homework.
'm listening.
Annabeth: I mean, the West represents a lot of the best things mankind ever did
that's why the fire is still burning. That's why OlympusIs still around. But sometimes you just see the bad stuff, you know? And you start thinking the way Luke does: 'If I could tear this all down, i would do it better.'. Don't you ever feel that way? Like YOU could do a better job I'd you ran the world?
Percy:Um ... no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.
Annabeth: then you're lucky. Hubris isn't your fatal flaw.
Percy: what is?
Annabeth: I don't know, Percy, but every hero has one. If you don't find it and learn to control it ... well, they don't call it 'fatal' for nothing.
Percy(thinking to himself): I thought about that. It didn't exactly cheer me up. — Rick Riordan

I am wired by nature to love the same toys that the world loves. I start to fit in. I start to love what others love. I start to call earth "home." Before you know it, I am calling luxeries "needs" and using my money just the way unbelievers do. I begin to forget the war. I don't think much about people perishing. Missions and unreached people drop out of my mind. I stop dreaming about the triumphs of grace. I sink into a secular mind-set that looks first to what man can do, not what God can do. It is a terrible sickness. And I thank God for those who have forced me again and again toward a wartime mind-set. — John Piper

Oh, what? So, because I'm not going to leave my wife for you, I don't even qualify as bisexual?"

"You could, but you're not." The only thing that kept me from trying to outpace him again was the crowd and the fact that I was afraid someone would overhear.

"And just why is that?"

"Because to call a spineless, wishy-washy closet case like you 'bi' would be an insult to bifolk everywhere." I shook my head in disgust. "You're a fucking stereotype, you know that? Bisexuals are fighting to get rid of the misperception of themselves as being greedy or on the fence, and here you are undoing all that. — Amelia C. Gormley

I thought you'd gotten over your whoring when you left him, Catherine, but it seems you only postponed it."
Bones' face turned to stone, and he answered her even before I could snap out an indignant response.
"Don't you ever speak to her that way again." There was pure warning in the whip of his words. "You can call me any name you like and more, but I will not stand by while you slander her out of your own ignorance. — Jeaniene Frost

Either you're lying again or you're as stupid as you look. You ditch me first year for him when you were a girl. You ditch me second year for him when you were a boy. You lie and cheat and steal for him while he treats you like crap, and I help you and care for you and worship you like a queen while you treat me like crap! What does that guy have that I don't? What makes him so lovable and me so unworthy? Know how many times I've asked myself that question, Sophie? How many times I've studied him like a book or sat in the dark picturing every last shred of him, trying to understand why he's more of a person than me? Or why the moment he's gone, you take a ring from the School Master - or Raphael or Michelangelo or Donatello or whatever you want to call him to make yourself feel better - just because he looks like you want him to look and says what you want to hear? When you could have had someone who's honest and kind and real? — Soman Chainani

Don't you want to know my name?" he asked, grabbing the ketchup bottle without taking his eyes off of me.
"Sure. What's your name?"
"You don't sound genuinely interested."
"I'm not begging if that's what you're waiting for."
Throwing his head back, he let out a deep rolling laugh before focusing his dark gaze on me again. "I wouldn't mind seeing you beg," he said then added when I frowned, "Cooper."
"Anyone ever call you Coop the Poop or Poopy Coopy?" I asked, messing with him because his iron stare made me nervous.
"No," he muttered.
"Not to your face anyway."
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and his gaze softened. "No, not to my face."
"I guess there are benefits to being scary. — Bijou Hunter

You'll call for me. You'll be lonely in your new quarters and will feel out of sorts. I could let you pet my hair until you fell asleep."
He drew in closer and lowered his voice to ask in all seriousness, "You're mad, aren't you?"
"As - a - hatter," she whispered back conspiratorially.
He felt a hint of sympathy for the creature. "How long have you been in here?"
"For four long ... interminable ... days."
He glowered at her.
"Which is why I want you to take me with you. I don't eat much."
The dungeon erupted with laughter again.
(Myst and Nikolai) — Kresley Cole

The Fire Bug flared up at that. "You want to know what bugs me?" it said indignantly. "Nobodaddy's friendly about fire. Oh, it's fine in its place, people say, it makes a nice glow in a room, but keep an eye on it in case it gets out of control, and always put it out before you leave. Never mind how much it's needed; a few forests burned by wildfires, the occasional volcanic eruption, and there goes our reputation. Water, on the other hand! - hah! - there's no limit to the praise Water gets. Floods, rains, burst pipes, they make no difference. Water is everyone's favorite. And when they call it the Fountain of Life! - bah! - well, that just bugs me to bits." The Fire Bug dissolved briefly into a little cloud of angry, buzzing sparks, then came together again. "Fountain of Life, indeed," it hissed. "What an idea. Life is not a drip. Life is a flame. What do you imagine the sun is made of? Raindrops? I don't think so. Life is not wet, young man. Life burns. — Salman Rushdie

Smiling at me ruefully, Luka scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess you can." He sauntered toward the sliding doors. "I'll be right outside if you need me. Call if you get dizzy."
"You'll probably just hear a very loud thump."
He frowned at my joke. "Not funny."
"Luka?" He stopped. "Thank you for keeping an eye on me."
"Just ... " He tsked. "Just don't scare me like that again. — Kate Evangelista

Yeah. And Savitar predates him. He has presided over this council since the very beginning, and notice, Savitar looks about thirty. We don't know what he is, but he ain't one of us and he ain't human. And trust me, you don't want to mess with him. (Paris)
Thank you for that highly unamusing summation. Next time I have insomnia, I know who to call. In the meantime, little lioness who would probably like to live another year, don't interrupt me again. I don't like it and I tend to kill the things I don't like. (Savitar) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Mel? Mel, I love you. Mel, come back . Mel, Mel, Mel."
It's Jared's voice, trying to call me back the way Wanda called back the Healer's host, the way she taught Kyle to call to Jodi.
I can answer him. I can speak now. I can feel my tongue in my mouth, ready to move into whatever shape I ask it to. I can feel the air in my lungs, ready to push out the words. If I want this.
"Mel, I love you, I love you."
This is Wanda's gift to me, paid for with her silver blood. Jared and I, put back together again as if she'd never lived. As if she hadn't saved us both.
If I accept this gift, I profit from her death. I kill her again. I take her sacrifice and make it murder.
"Mel, please? Open your eyes."
I feel his hand on my face, cradling my cheek. I feel his lips burn against my forehead, but I don't want them, not at this price.
Or do I? — Stephenie Meyer

First of all, you don't want me to get too hungry. Ever. I'm an ever worse bastard than normal and having starved for centuries, I'm not about to deprive myself again when I don't have to. Second, let me tell you something about your 'friends.' Deimos held me down while I was branded and then took me to the human realm where I was left with nothing. No clothes, no money. Not a damn thing to call my own. Hence the aforementioned starvation. A hundred years later, M'Ordant dumped my inside a Spartan prison camp and told the commander I was a traitor to their people. You don't really want to know what the Spartans did to people they thought betrayed them. D'Alerian had me put inside a Turkish prison in the fifteenth century where I was impaled after being tortured for three weeks. So you'll have to excuse me if I have a hard time feeling too sorry for them right now. At least no one's shoving a sharp spike up their asses. (Jericho) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

He leaned down, lapped at her tears with his tongue. "I won't take you, make you come until you tell me you belong to me because otherwise I'm just the Breeding Male again. Don't you understand that?" Her eyes locked with his. "Don't you understand that I love you. Me. Not "it"-me."
Her body was on fire, her mind gone, but her unbeating heart could only call out, cry out to the one it had no right to claim. Lucian Roman. "Damn it! I love you too, you bastard. — Laura Wright

Look, it doesn't make sense for me to leave you pregnant and clueless on the pavement when I am headed for your very hotel."

"I can manage to find a phone and call for a cab. I graduated from college and everything."

"You don't say? Can you take a degree in childbearing in this country?"

"That was my minor. My major was social grace with an emphasis on tolerating the obnoxious - ack! I did it again! I keep telling myself, 'Be nice, don't insult him.' Then you say something and out it comes. — Shannon Hale

Figure out another way to explain me. I don't care what you come up with. But if you call me your latest piece of petunia again or make uncalled-for references to my mouth and oral sex with you, you and I are through."
He raised a brow. "Petunia, Ms. Lane?"
I scowled. "Ass, Barrons."
He crossed his arms and his gaze dropped to my glossy Lip-Venom red lips. "Am I to understand there are called-for references to your mouth and oral sex with me, Ms. Lane? I'd like to hear them. — Karen Marie Moning

Again Serena's frustrations, her disappointments, exist within a system you understand not to try to understand in any fair-minded way because to do so is to understand the erasure of the self as systemic, as ordinary. For Serena, the daily diminishment is a low flame, a constant drip. Every look, every comment, every bad call blossoms out of history, through her, onto you. To understand is to see Serena as hemmed in as any other black body thrown against our American background. "Aren't you the one that screwed me over last time here?" she asks umpire Asderaki. "Yeah, you are. Don't look at me. Really, don't even look at me. Don't look my way. Don't look my way," she repeats, because it is that simple. — Claudia Rankine

I'm fine.My father's an arse, and my mum is dying and-oh my God,I'm so pissed." St. Clair looked at me again. His eyes were glassy like black marbles. "Pissed.Pissed.Pissed."
"We know you're pissed at your dad," I said. "It's okay. You're right, he's a jerk." I mean what was I supposed to say? He just found out his mother has cancer.
"Pissed is British for 'drunk,'" Mer said.
"Oh," I said. "Well. You're definitely that, too."
Meanwhile,The Couple was fighting. "Where have you been?" Rashmi asked. "You said you'd be home three hours ago!"
Josh rolled his eyes. "Out.We've been out. Someone had to help him-"
"And you call that helping? He's completely wasted. Catatonic. And you! God,you smell like car exhaust and armpits-"
"He couldn't drink alone."
"You were supposed to be watching out for him! What if something happened?"
"Beer. Liquor. Thatsswhat happened. Don't be such a prude,Rash. — Stephanie Perkins

He lay still for a while, alone in the silent house, remembering the night before, what that had been like, wondering what might be starting. Thinking did he want it to start, and what if he did. Late in the afternoon he called her. You doing all right? he said. Yes, aren't you? Yes, I am. Good. I enjoyed myself, he said. You think you'd like to get together again sometime? You're not suggesting an actual date, are you? Maggie said. In broad daylight? I don't know what you'd call it, Guthrie said. I'm just saying I'd be willing to take you out for supper at Shattuck's and invest in a hamburger. To see how that would go down. When were you thinking of doing that? Right now. This evening. Give me fifteen minutes to get ready, she said. He hung up and went upstairs and put on a clean shirt and entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He looked at himself in the mirror. You don't deserve it, he said aloud. Don't ever even begin to think that you do. — Kent Haruf

This is why you don't call the police. Or Preternatural Control. No matter what. Ever. If I'd doubted that rule
and I was fairly sure I never had
I certainly never would have again. My skin itched just talking to the authorities ... The police department had more than a few open cases with my name on them
figuratively, and I had no desire to make that literal [where they connected me to] the vigilante responsible for dozens of area beastie slayings ... — Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Because I love you. I don't want to, okay? I think there are some things that are so hard, you shouldn't have to do them, only no one can take them from you. There are feelings so sick, so obviously unhealthy, you shouldn't have to feel them. But there they are. I still love you, and I'm not ever going to see you again, not ever. You did that to us. Not your dad or your family. just you. So I could hit you. I could rage at you right now, and call you every ugly name I know, and I know a lot. I could tell you how much I'm hurting, or I could get out of the car, slam the door, hitchhike to the airport because fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, West, how could you do this to me? How? — Robin York

Look, if I don't let Ewan in, he's going to call the police."
"Answer it," he rasped with a harsh resolve. "But when he's gone, you're coming with me, Emma. Count on it."
"Go to hell," she snapped in a breathy whisper as the doorbell rang again. — Monica Burns

I don't mean to insinuate that you are unfeeling or stifled of life ... excuse me on
that one. I just meant to ask you how you breathe when you are down here reading or
writing."
He smiled. "I have five years more experience in breathing on this earth than you. I
know when it is I can breathe and when it is I can't and I know just what to do when
such a thing as suffocation occurs."
I can't believe it, there is actually a qualitative property to every breath
taken ... That must be wonderful. You must also know your cells are degenerating five
years faster than mine."
He smiled again, the same relaxed annoying way. "I get that you find it amusing to
liken me to my cadavers. It's not the first time you've done it, but truly we are not in
lieu to play smart."
I was wondering if you could call the cadaver of a smart man, a smart cadaver. I've
always wondered. — Dew Platt

This is scary," she whispers. "I've never had a boyfriend before. I don't know how this works. Do people become exclusive this fast? Are we supposed to pretend we're not that interested for a few more dates?"
Oh, dear God.
I've never been turned on by a girl laying claim to me before. I usually run in the other direction. She's obliterating every single thing I thought I knew about myself with every new sentence that passes those lips.
"I have no interest in faking disinterest," I say. "If you want to call yourself my girlfriend half as much as I wish you would, then it would save me a whole lot of begging. Because I was literally about to drop to my knees and beg you."
She squints her eyes playfully. "No begging. It screams desperation."
"You make me desperate," I say, pressing my lips to hers again. — Colleen Hoover

It's very good of you
"
"No, no, not at all. It's my hobby. Not proposing to people, I don't mean, but investigating things. Well, cheer-frightfully-ho and all that. And I'll call again, if I may."
"I will give the footman orders to admit you," said the prisoner, gravely, "you will always find me at home. — Dorothy L. Sayers

And you're also the kind of woman who a man sees curled in a protective ball, he's moved to do what he can to make certain that doesn't happen again."
"Is that why you're here?"
"I'm here cause when you come, you come hard, you don't hold back but you do hold on and you do it tight. I'm here, because, when you call me baby in this bed, I feel it in my dick. And I'm here because you don't hesitate throwing attitude when every other woman I know doesn't have the guts to say boo to me. Seeing you scared and wantin' to do something about it was just an extra reason that made me want to be here. — Kristen Ashley

Josh, you saw him," Tally says, "What did he look like? Did he look nice?"
"He looked like a person," Josh grunts.
"Don't be a spoilsport," Tally says, and Caid hears her smack Josh on the arm.
"Shortish, blondish, thinish," Josh says.
"Thank you, Josh," Caid says, "Your way with words astounds me yet again."
"Well, whatever," Tally says. "What did you guys talk about? You said he's nice?"
"We talked about a lot of things. And yeah, he's - I mean, we traded numbers, so hopefully he'll call."
"I hope so, too," Tally says. "I'm glad you have somebody to hang out with now."
"Because I was such horrible company?" Josh says, voice thick and deep like he's got a mouthful of ice cream.
"I wouldn't say horrible," Caid says. "Unbearable, maybe. Like one of those YouTube videos that never loads." And with that, he shoots a shit-eating grin in Josh's direction, and shovels a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. — Seventhswan

The scientist in me worries that my happiness is nothing more than a symptom of bipolar disease, hypergraphia from a postpartum disorder. The rest of me thinks that artificially splitting off the scientist in me from the writer in me is actually a kind of cultural bipolar disorder, one that too many of us have. The scientist asks how I can call my writing vocation and not addiction. I no longer see why I should have to make that distinction. I am addicted to breathing in the same way. I write because when I don't, it is suffocating. I write because something much larger than myself comes into me that suffuses the page, the world, with meaning. Although I constantly fear that what I am writing teeters at the edge of being false, this force that drives me cannot be anything but real, or nothing will ever be real for me again. — Alice Weaver Flaherty

You're a hard negotiator, Ray-Baby."
"I'm going to get a lot harder if you call me that again."
"Give me a minute. Less than a minute. I'm almost certain I can make a filthy joke in response to that."
"No", I told him. "No, for the love of God, don't. — Cherie Priest