Folded On Me Quotes & Sayings

I saw Pete standing there.
I held my breath at the bright in his eyes as he looked between us.
Those eyes landed on me.
"Fuck, sweetheart, so good to have you back," he whispered.
I made a noise as I choked back the tears and moved out of Logan's hold toward Big Petey.
His arms closed around me tight.
Folded in the arms of Chaos.
Oh yes.
I'd come home. — Kristen Ashley

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn. — Jodi Picoult

And another thing - when you talk to that pompous ass on the phone, do not go all syrupy." He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her from his superior height.
"Syrupy?" she echoed indignantly, outraged at the accusation. "I never sound syrupy." Her large eyes flashed a warning at him, daring him to pursue his point.
He dared to. "Oh yes, you do." He clasped his hands together and made a face, his voice rising an octave as he simpered. "Oh, Marie, the flowers are so beautiful. Thomas Ivan gave them to me." He rolled his eyes as he mimicked her. — Christine Feehan

You were coshed with a fireplace poker," Mrs. Seaton said, bending over him to sift through the hair above his nape. "These wounds will require careful cleaning." She wadded up his shirt and folded it to hold against the scalp wound. "Passive voice," the earl said through clenched teeth, "will not protect you, Mrs. Seaton, since you did the coshing. Jesus and the apostles, that hurts." Her hand came up to hold his forehead even as she continued to press the linen of his ruined shirt against the bleeding wound. "The bleeding is slowing down," she said, "and the wounds on your back are not as messy." "Happily for me," her patient muttered. — Grace Burrowes

It was becoming more and more difficult for me to decide to do anything in those last days. And when I eventually did decide to do something, such as packing a suitcase, I only dragged all my grubby, expensive clothes out of the bureau and the closet and spread them on the chairs and the bed and the floor and then sat and stared at them, utterly perplexed. They seemed to have a separate, mulish identity of their own that refused to be washed and folded and stowed. — Sylvia Plath

Do you like blowjobs? "Did you just ask me if I like blowjobs?" he asked in a low voice. "I swear that's what it sounded like." "Yes." She folded her hands in front of her and met his gaze head-on. "I haven't given nearly enough of them but I'd like to practice. — Cari Quinn

You said the demon's signature is faint. I may be able to heal her if she's been injured."
"Not in your present state, you said."
She scowled at him. "I won't let you back into my uncle's home."
"Then I can't protect you if the Baltimore demon comes for you."
She folded her arms.
Hunter's jaw tightened. "All right. I'll call you." He snorted under his breath. "You're a Kubiteron and I'm a Matusa. That means you're to obey me."
"You mean, 'You, Matusa, me, Kubiteron?' No way, Tarzan. Go beat on your chest before some other lesser demon."
Jared quickly hid a smile.
Hunter's face turned dark. She gave him a quirky smile, then vanished. — Terry Spear

Blood of my blood ... " I whispered. "Bone of my bone." His whisper was deep and husky. He knelt quite suddenly before me, and put his folded hands in mine; the gesture a Highlander makes when swearing loyalty to his chieftain. "I give ye my spirit," he said, head bent over our hands. " 'Til our life shall be done," I said softly. "But it isn't done yet, Jamie, is it?" Then he rose and took the shift from me, and I lay back on the narrow bed naked, pulled him down to me through the soft yellow light, and took him home, and home, and home again, and we were neither one of us alone. — Diana Gabaldon

Nah, Mike's gonna stop by. He had to work late and he works
with this really cute chick and I just know he ... ." Alycia folded her arms
on her chest and pouted. "She better be a blonde bimbo with a huge rack
and no personality if he's gonna cheat on me. — J.M. Colail

I've only met Reed twice," I said. Kind of sad, but that made him my oldest friend. "And I have no idea who this new guy is. Just for the record, I'm calling him 'Full Metal Jackass' because he's a sucker-punching douchebag, and I hop you'll join me in that by putting it on his official file or threat designator or whatever you use to keep track of metas that cross you."
"Duly noted. We have concerns." She folded her hands again.
"So do I," I agreed. "Most of them involve your fashion sense, with a few left to spare for the armor-clad whackjob that b**** slapped me around a parking lot this morning. — Robert J. Crane

I sat with my legs folded under me, my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands. It was very warm
the sun felt strange on my skin now that I was so used to the rain
and the meadow was still lovely, but it was just background now. It didn't stand out. I had a new definition of beauty. — Stephenie Meyer

You give me thirty-two inches of folded steel and I'll take on anyone you want.
Merit — Chloe Neill

I folded my hands back on my desk, and as I did, I saw Paul's slanted handwriting standing out against my blocky, square printing on my skin. He'd managed to find room to squeeze in the words females hurt my brain on my left hand. I raised an eyebrow at him and he gave me a look like, well it's true, isn't it? — Maggie Stiefvater

The poet he was escorting into Wales was a Horus-headed dud of some personal magnetism. The hair was feathered gell, the nose hooked. He stared at me and he didn't. His eyes belonged to a magician; one bored into you, right through the lens into the depths of the vitreous humor - while the other popped and wobbled in the style of Ben Turpin. He folded in on himself, profile sharp as an axe. A labrys. This man would have no problem seeing around a corner. — Iain Sinclair

The smile that folded the puffed eyelids and creased the sagging cheeks was fixed and forced. I'd seen such smiles in mortuaries on the false face of death. It reminded me that I was going to grow old and die. — Ross Macdonald

Don't pretend you don't like it when I treat you as a lady."
"Maybe I don't."
Despite that, he still opened the car door for me, with his lips curving up into a careless grin. "Girls always do that," he said, " - pretend they think you're taking their independence from them if you open a door. But that's not the case."
"Well, what is the case?" I sat down on the front seat - leaving my feet on the driveway.
"Simply that we're demonstrating good-breeding; showing the girl we're worthy and capable of taking care of her - that we're polite, considerate and nurturing."
I folded my arms. "Women don't need nurturing - or to be taken care of. We can fend for ourselves. We're equal to men, you know. — A.M. Hudson

All I cared about then was catching a glimpse of Chairman Mao. I turned my eyes quickly away from Liu to the front of the motorcade. I spotted Mao's stalwart back, his right arm steadily waving. In an instant, he had disappeared. My heart sank. Was that all I would see of Chairman Mao? Only a fleeting glimpse of his back? The sun seemed suddenly to have turned gray. All around me the Red Guards were making a huge din. The girl standing next to me had just pierced the index finger of her right hand and was squeezing blood out of it to write something on a neatly folded handkerchief. I knew exactly the words she was going to use. It had been done many times by other Red Guards and had been publicized ad nauseam: "I am the happiest person in the world today. I have seen our Great Leader Chairman Mao!" Watching her, my despair grew. Life seemed pointless. A thought flickered into my mind: perhaps I should commit suicide? — Jung Chang

Rita folded her arms around herself and peered up at me. If you'd asked me
three months ago I'd have said you were hitting the bottle too hard. But then I
got stabbed and should have died, but instead a bunch of cops and ambulance
people showed up because somebody who wasn't even there sent them on ahead to save my life. If something like that happens to someone like me, you start to
have a little faith in something bigger. I don't know if I believe in magic or miracles all the time. But I believe in you, Detective Walker. I believe in you. — C.E. Murphy

No, I'm not shy." I folded my arms across my shell-covered chest. The press of the hard material against my sensitive nipples caused my core to tighten. "But I usually have to buy a girl a couple of drinks in order to be treated to a show like that."
She turned to look at me, the fringe on her dress swaying with her movement. A thin eyebrow arched, her cherry lips pulled into a dazzling smile. "Well." The intensity locked in her bright eyes as her green gaze moved from my head to my toes and back again made my entire body tingle. "I guess you owe me a drink, Meghan. — Elizabeth Morgan

I'll accept your apology on one condition." He folded his arms across his chest.
"Anything?"
"You trust me."
I cocked my head to the side. "I trust you, Cam."
"No, you don't." He walked over to my small table and pulled out a chair. "Have a seat."
Sitting down, I tugged the hem of his shirt down as he headed back to the stove, putting the tiny skillet over the burner.
"If you trusted me, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did," he simply said, cracking an egg. "And that's not me judging you or any of that kind of shit. You got to trust me that I'm not going to be an ass or freak out over that kind of stuff. You have to trust that I care enough about you. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Hey, and the rock star is here too! How you doing, son?"
"Hey, Mr. Rossi. Thanks for having me today. I'm doing great. How have you been?" I answered.
He lowered his gaze and stepped closer to me. "Good, good, son. I'm sure glad that everything was settled and you didn't have anything to do with hurting our Gracie. Lea told me that you were the one to help her when that son of a bitch got his hands on her. We're forever in your debt, Shane. I knew you couldn't have hurt her." He slid in front of the dining room chair at the head of the table, and sat down, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. A serious expression crossed his features, "So did anybody get the son of a bitch, yet? Or am I going to have to make some calls ... " Holy shit, it's like the Godfather. — Christine Zolendz

Good." He drank in her nakedness, fervent as a man downing ale after three days in the desert. His eyes, gleaming with unholy intention, came to rest on hers. "Now fuck me."
The command knocked her back like a handful of dust in the face. But only for a moment. He was the one tied up. She folded her arms again. "If you want my cooperation you had better address me more politely than that."
"Fuck me." Like the world's wickedest elocution pupil he articulated the words, lips and tongue and teeth put to such nefarious use. "Fuck me until I thrash and shout beneath you. — Cecilia Grant

Mac folded his arms on the bar and looked at me intently and said, in a resonant baritone, "You've got to be very careful, Harry."
I looked at him, shocked. He'd ... used grammar. — Jim Butcher

Was in lower school. And she figures it's your fault that things have changed." "That's just idiotic!" Ximena said. "I know!" I said. "It's like Savanna being mad at me for having been in a TV commercial once. It makes no sense." "How do you know all this?" asked Ximena. "Did she tell you?" "No!" I said. "Did you know about the note beforehand?" "No!" I said. Summer rescued me. "So what did Ellie say when she read Maya's note?" she asked Ximena. "Oh, she was so mad," answered Ximena. "She and Savanna want to go all out on Maya, post something super-mean about her on Facebook or whatever. Then Miles drew this cartoon. They want to post it on Instagram." She nodded for Summer to hand me a folded-up piece of loose-leaf paper, which I opened. On it was a crude drawing of a girl (who was obviously Maya) kissing a boy (who was obviously Auggie Pullman). Underneath it was — R.J. Palacio

Magnus reached down his shirtfront and drew out something that dangled on a chain, something that glowed with a soft red light. A square red stone. "Take this." He folded it into Will's hand. Will looked at him in confusion. "This was Camille's." "I gave it to her as a gift," said Magnus, a bitter quirk to the side of his mouth. "She returned all my gifts to me last month. You might as well take it. It warns when demons are close. It might work on those clockwork creations of Mortmain's. — Cassandra Clare

What shall I do?" she asked in a small voice.
"Forget your own self," he said.
"But all these years," she urged, "I have so carefully fulfilled my duty."
"Always with the thought of your own freedom in your mind," he said.
She could not deny it. She sat motionless, her hands folded on the pearl-gray satin of her robe. "Direct me," she said at last.
"Instead of your own freedom, think how you can free others," he said gently.
She lifted her head.
"From yourself," he said still gently. — Pearl S. Buck

Roppongi is an interzone, the land of gaijin bars, always up late. I'm waiting at a pedestrian crossing when I see her. She's probably Australian, young and quite serviceably beautiful. She wears very expensive, very sheer black undergarments, and little else, save for some black outer layer - equally sheer, skintight, and micro-short - and some gold and diamonds to give potential clients the right idea. She steps past me, into four lanes of traffic, conversing on her phone in urgent Japanese. Traffic halts obediently for this triumphantly jaywalking gaijin in her black suede spikes. I watch her make the opposite curb, the brain-cancer deflector on her slender little phone swaying in counterpoint to her hips. When the light changes, I cross, and watch her high-five a bouncer who looks like Oddjob in a Paul Smith suit, his skinny lip beard razored with micrometer precision. There's a flash of white as their palms meet. Folded paper. Junkie origami. — William Gibson

When she was settled in the car beside Tyler, Maddy folded her hands on her lap. "I've got two
things I want to ask you."
"Sure. Shoot."
"If I were, like, ten years older and had actual breasts, would you go for me?"
"Jesus, Maddy."
"I don't have a crush on you or anything. I sort of did when we first moved here, but I got over it.
You're too old for me, and I'm not ready for a serious relationship, or sex."
"Damn right you're not."
"But when I am ready, I want to know if a guy would go for me. Theoretically. — Nora Roberts

dear little baby of the folks I work for, I got a present for you .. my whole damn life! I'm handin' it over to you & your ma & pa. if you got no money to pay, I wanna stay anyhow, my pleasure is to wait on you forever. to hell with my children & hooray for you!.. you stayin' up all night fixin' up Character Parts for me! givin' 'em what you call dignity! dignity! you know what your dignity is? a black straw hat with a flower stickin' up in front, hands folded cross my stomach, sayin' the same damn fool things .. only nice & easy & proper!" --trouble in mind (1955) — Alice Childress

Three or four days later he was still thinking about seal flipper pie. Remembered the two raw eggs Petal gave him. That he invested with pathetic meaning.
'Petal,' said Quoyle to Wavey, 'hated to cook. Hardly ever did.' Thought of the times he had fixed dinner for her, set put his stupid candles, folded the napkins as though they were important, waited and finally ate alone, the radio on for company. And later dined with the children, shoveling in canned spaghetti, scraping baby food off small chins.
'Once she gave me two eggs. Raw eggs for a present.' He had made an omelet of them, hand-fed her as thought she were a nestling bird. And saved the shells in a paper cup on top of the kitchen cabinet. Where they still must be. — Annie Proulx

You told me men don't do this."
"Do what?"
She walked around the counter, speaking animatedly. "Two years ago. We were at Firelight, having drinks. Cade and I had split up and you said that men don't mope around after a breakup. You said that men avoid issues, get drunk, and pick up a new girl to forget the old one - but that you don't brood."
Ford held out his hands in disbelief. "How do you remember that? And I'm not brooding."
She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him.
"I know you're my friend," he said. "But please, for once, can you just act like you have a penis?
Because I don't want to talk about this."
She shrugged. "Fine. We'll just sit here and listen to music." She reached for his phone again.
"Have you heard Taylor Swift's new song?"
"No."
"Well, you're going to - on endless repeat until you start talking. — Julie James

I went back into my bedroom and knelt at my bed the way I did when I was a kid. I folded my hands and pressed the top knuckle joints of my thumbs hard into my forehead. Dear God. I don't know what I want or who I am. Apparently you do. Um ... that's great. Never mind. You have a terrible reputation here. You should know that. Oh, but I guess you do know that. Save me now. Or when it's convenient. We could run away together. This is stupid. What am I doing? I guess this is a prayer. I feel like an idiot, but I guess you knew that already, too. My sister said that god is music. Goodbye, Amen. I lay in my bed and waited for that thick, sweet feeling to wash over me, for that unreal semi-conscious state where the story begins and takes on a life of its own and all you have to do is close your eyes and give in and let go and give in and let go and go and go and go. — Miriam Toews

Neil [Simon] was considered our greatest [living playwright] at the time [of their marriage]. Maybe he still is; I don't know. But anyway, he was hugely successful, and I just kind of got folded into that. And in some ways, he protected me, but in other ways, I wasn't fully able to step out, you know? He didn't want me to go away so much. The work that we did together was great, and I don't regret it, but what I am saying is that I didn't get an opportunity to explore some other areas that were offered to me early on. I took what I might call a U-turn. — Marsha Mason

It's not like someday my kid's gonna be standing over my grave, and somebody's gonna hang her a folded flag and say, 'You know what? This is 'cause he did 24 hours straight on Twitter.' But it's just one of those little personal victories, like, 'I wonder if I can do this.' And I did it. A stupid goal, but I accomplished it. Life's all about ... for me, at least ... having very stupid achievable goals. That way, you always feel like a winner. — Kevin Smith

There isn't a button," she said. "You choose your setting and then you pull the dial."
He glanced at her as she folded a shirt, annoyed by her nonchalance at doing laundry. "What exactly is my setting? It looks to me like the setting is the goddamn laundry room and the plot is I don't know how to fucking turn this thing on. — J.M. Darhower

Human beings must love something, and, in the dearth of worthier objects
of affection, I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a
faded graven image, shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me now
to remember with what absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy, half
fancying it alive and capable of sensation. I could not sleep unless it was
folded in my night-gown; and when it lay there safe and warm, I was
comparatively happy, believing it to be happy likewise. — Charlotte Bronte

Isn't that the guy you asked me to throw soda on?"
Colton's head jerked up. He stared first at Reece, then at me. "You asked him to throw soda on me?"
"Of course not. The boy is delirious, That's what happens to children when they're malnourished. They start hallucinating." I put my hand against Reese's forehead as though checking for a temperature. "I'm afraid he has a serious case of it."
Colton folded his arms and continued to glare at me. "No, Charlotte, you have a serious case of it, and I'm not talking about malnourishment."
Reese stepped away from my temperature check and toward Colton. "She said you wouldn't melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, but you might fizz a little." Reese turned back to me. "He never did fizz."
"I'm about to," Colton said. "Just watch for a few more seconds. — Janette Rallison

And I want you to know that I heard what you said in that speech,' Rider said, his voice scratchy. 'I might've saved you all those years ago, but now you've saved me,'
My heart stuttered and then sped up. I reacted without thought. Placing the book on the bed, I launched myself at Rider just as he came off the window seat. We collided. I folded my arms around him as we went down onto the floor, me partially in his lap and his arms tight around my waist, his face burrowed against my neck. I felt a tremor run through his body and then he shook in my arms. I held him tighter as he broke into pieces, and years of holding it together shattered. I held him through it all.
Then it was me who put Rider back together. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Angela," she whispered, "are you asleep?"

Angela, lying on her back with her eyes shut and her hands folded like Snow White in a glass coffin, said flatly, "Yes."

"Because I'd like to talk about our feeeeeeeelings."

"I wish I was dead."

"Angela, you don't mean that."

"Kami, I do. And do you know why? Because then you might let me rest in peace. — Sarah Rees Brennan

She was always a loving mother who did what she thought was best. Sometimes that included hitting us with clothes hangers when we were young, but I'm sure we had it coming. To this day I have flashbacks when the dry cleaner asks me if I want my shirts folded or on hangers. I love my mom dearly, and thanks to her all my shirts now come home from the dry cleaner's folded. — Maz Jobrani

He dismounted and helped Amelia to the ground. At his direction, she sat on a fallen birch log while he set up a makeshift camp. She waited with her hands folded neatly in her lap, watching his every movement as he pulled a bundle of blankets from the packsaddle. In a few minutes he had made a fire in the stone-circled pit and laid out a pallet beside it.
Amelia hurried to the pile of blankets and burrowed beneath the layers of wool and quilted cotton. "Is it safe out here?" she asked, her voice muffled.
"You're safe from everything but me." Smiling, Cam lowered himself beside her. — Lisa Kleypas

But from within the carton, Morty's American flag - which I know is folded there, at the very bottom, in the official way - tells me, "It's against some Jewish law," and so, on into the car he went with the carton, and then he drove it down to the beach, to the boardwalk, which was no longer there. The boardwalk was gone. Good-bye, boardwalk. The ocean had finally carried it away. The Atlantic is a powerful ocean. Death is a terrible thing. That's a doctor I never heard of. Remarkable. Yes, that's the word for it. It was all remarkable. Good-bye, remarkable. Egypt and Greece good-bye, and good-bye, Rome! — Philip Roth

And the barman asked me if I was alright? Simple little question. And i said I was. And he said he'd make me a sandwich. And I said okay. And I nearly started crying--because you know, here was someone just...And I watched him. He took two big slices off a fresh loaf and buttered them carefully, spreading it all around. I'll never forget it. And then he sliced some cheese and cooked ham and an onion out of a jar, and put it all on a plate and sliced it down the middle. And, just someone doing this for me. And putting it down in front of me. 'Get that down you, now,' he said. And then he folded up his newspaper and put on his jacket, and went off on his break. And there was another barman then. And I took this sandwich up and I could hardly swallow it, because of the lump in my throat. But I ate i tall down because someone I didn't know had done this for me. Such a small thing. But a huge thing. In my condition. — Conor McPherson

I folded my arms over my chest. "Oh, that is just like a man! To credit something inexplicable to the feeble mind of an hysterical woman."
He gave me a slow smile. "I think I have proven amply that I, at least, do not believe your sex to be the weaker. On the contrary, my dear, your kind has brought kingdoms to ruin and heroes to their knees. I would not dare to underestimate you."
"And yet," I muttered.
"And yet, I will point out any flaw in your logic because you are capable of better," he returned rather more sternly. "You've a fine mind when you aren't haring off in one direction or other. — Deanna Raybourn

Then I felt his breath on my ear as he said, voice barely audible, "'I am alone in the world, and yet not alone enough to make each hour holy. I am lowly in this world, and yet not lowly enough for me to be just a thing to you, dark and shrewd. I want my will and I want to go with my will as it moves towards action.'" He paused, long, the only sound his breath, a little ragged, before he went on, "'And I want, in those silent, somehow faltering times, to be with someone who knows, or else alone. I want to reflect everything about you, and I never want to be too blind or too ancient to keep your profound wavering image with me. I want to unfold. I don't want to be folded anywhere, because there, where I'm folded, I am a lie.'"

I turned my face toward his voice, eyes still fast shut, and he put his mouth on mine. I felt his lips pull from mine slightly, just for a moment, and heard the rustle of the book laid gently on the floor, and then he wrapped his arms around me. — Maggie Stiefvater

By now, Gregor had recovered. "Sage? Devlin, forgive my accusation, but you are a fool. Don't you know who this is?"
Devlin didn't appear to forgive the accusation. With a sneer on his face, he folded his arms and said, "Enlighten me."
Gregor looked at me and frowned. "He can perform the Avenian accent as well as his own Carthyan tongue. And although he has a reputation for being able to steal the white off snow if he chooses to, this boy is far from being a mere thief. Devlin, you are facing the boy who has haunted the pirates for the past four years. This is Jaron, the lost prince of Carthya. — Jennifer A. Nielsen

A man can be beautiful, I see that now. It's not just a woman's term, not a word reserved for romantic, virtuous, elegant things. I don't think beauty is neat anymore. It's unordered. It's unbrushed hair and a torn back pocket. It's bright and strange and lovely, and if I were to paint him, I'd use all the warm colours - ochre, gold, plum, terracotta, scarlet, burnt orange. I want him to see me as I saw him then, I want him to find me alone at the end of the day with the sun in my hair. I want his heart to buckle, too. I want him to stop someone out in the square and say, who's that? Do you know her? Where is she from?"

- from Eve Green's mother's account.
"It is written on a piece of thin, yellow paper, and is folded in half. I like this account. I like it because it's true, she's right. We all want out lovers to see us that way - unaware, natural, serene. We want to change their world with one glance, to stop their breath at the sight of us. — Susan Fletcher

I was signed by L.A. Reid on Arista Records when I was 16. He understood me and believed in me. Arista folded and I got put on RCA or whatever, then there were new people there, and every six months it changes and more new people come in. — Avril Lavigne

I put my pen to the paper and began to write. I'd made so many wishes for so many couples quietly in my head as they drove away, but writing the words out made it seem more real, possible. For them, and maybe for me.
FOR YOU, I WISH FOR SECOND CHANCES.

I folded it shut, then put it on the wall before I could change my mind, right above Jilly's. As Michael Salem called out to her and she started his way, I crossed the backyard, moving toward the music. When I looked back at the wish wall from a distance, it was a sea of squares: I couldn't even find mine among them. So many things we ask for, hope for, prayers put out into a world so wide: there was no way they could all be answered. But you had to keep asking. If you didn't, nothing even had a chance of coming true. — Sarah Dessen

With just about every script, in almost every corner of the set, I was faced with the truth: This was my parents' life. My mother had sat in handcuffs; my father had once worn an orange jumpsuit like the dozens that sat folded in our wardrobe department. For the other actors and me on our show, this was all fantasy, the re-creation of a world we knew little about; for Mami and Papi, it could not have been any more real or painful...I've had so many scenes in which Flaca & I are doing the dirty work, like cleaning the kitchen or mopping the floors, which is when I think of my parents most. Long before they ended up in prison, they'd spent years handling the nastiest jobs, the ones often avoided by others. Manual labor. Low pay. No respect. They must've felt so trapped. It must've been so hard for them to maintain their dignity when others looked down on them or, worse, didn't see them at all. — Diane Guerrero

He was really trying to be my friend, without all the emotional baggage we both carried - mine still with me, but carefully folded in vacuum bags so they'd occupy as little room as possible and his, hangin on his shoulders like lead armor, making him slouch sometimes. And yet, as pinned down as he was, he was the one comforting me, supporting not only his weight but mine, too. It wasn't fair. — Diana T. Scott

---
He knit his brows as she stared at him. "Do I have a pustule on my face?"
"No." She continued to stare. He may be a bit more time-weathered, but that only served to increase his allure. And his eyes. Lord, his eyes were the same crystal blues that could pierce through her soul.
Tilting his chin up, he folded his arms. "Then why are ye looking at me like that?"
"I want to remember."
His gaze softened. "I've never forgotten."
"Nor have I. — Amy Jarecki

Posterity, n.
I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things - the years passing, the years together - are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. Your hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression. — David Levithan

Once you start spending time together, you'll learn things about her that no one else could have told you. Things that you never would have suspected. Like the fact that she snores and has cold feet." He folded his arms and I caught his smile in my peripheral vision. Why was he smiling at me? Hey, was he referring to our nap on the cot? "Maybe you'll learn that she'd make a great doctor or that she has the capacity to care about people she barely knows." He took a dramatic pause, leaning against the wall. "Maybe you'll learn that she's not the spoiled princess you thought she was."
Maybe you'll learn that she'd rather have someone speak directly to her than about her," I said, folding my arms and leaning against the wall. — Suzanne Selfors

She takes a step toward me and slides her hands between my folded arms, pushing against them until they unlock. "Daniel Wesley you owe me a do-over since you made me kiss you in a crowded restaurant right next to a dirty diaper."
"It wasn't crowded," I interject.
She glares at me. "Put your hands on my face and push me against this wall and slip me some tongue! Now!"
Before she can laugh at herself, my hands are casing her face and her back is pressed against the wall of her house and my mouth is on hers. — Colleen Hoover

Soft light ate away at the darkness and revealed a rather large room outfitted with a small kitchen, an antique-looking couch, and a ... a bed. Nervously, I turned away and folded my arms. The place reminded me more of a love-nest than anything else. Then again, the stockpile of rifles hanging on the wall kind of ruined the cozy feel. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

When his pointer finger trailed toward my belly button, I jumped and stepped back. I was so close to the bed that my legs folded and I ended up falling onto the mattress. My shoulder screamed in protest, and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
"I - uh ... " he said, stumbling over his words, his cheeks turning slightly pink.
I pushed up onto one elbow. "Sorry for feeling me up?" I finished for him.
He grinned. "That wasn't feeling you up. When I feel you up, you'll know it. — Cambria Hebert

He nodded, like that made sense. Then he said, "So why does it bother you when someone calls you a dummy?"...."I'm not going to say that other kids can't be mean sometimes. Sometimes people say things that are just awful." I looked down into my Kleenex. "But you know what to are, Albie. You know what you're worth. At least I hope you do." I folded the tissue over on itself once, then twice, then three times. "And you get to decide what words are hurtful to you. If you ask me, 'dummy' shouldn't hurt you one bit. — Lisa Graff

Why would you believe in me at all?"
He moved to lean forward on the railing, forearms folded with the blade dangling down over the river, his face in profile. Finally, he said, "I trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"I know," he muttered.
She heard the strain in his voice. His eyes cut to her, and she saw that he knew she had heard it. His body shifted into a position of determined nonchalance. "Logically speaking," he said lightly, "the idea that you hired someone to attack me doesn't make much sense. I'm not sure what your motive would be."
"I could have wanted to put an end to the rumors."
"That would be a shame. I like the rumors."
"Don't joke. — Marie Rutkoski

I deeply understood that there is no such thing as an isolated act. This particular act had looped and wrapped and folded in on itself and other acts, pushed forward, pulled a hidden past into the present, and placed it in front of me as if to say: Isn't this a fine moment? Who knew? — Patricia Florin

I expected Dad to do his usual brisk thing and say something like, "Excellent. I will anxiously await your pronouncement on this significant matter." Instead, he just looked relieved and said, "Good."
Thinking we were done, I moved toward the door, but Dad stepped in front of it. "We're not quite finised yet."
I blinked at him, surprised. "I could try to break some more mirrors if you really want me to, Dad, but I'm kind of wiped out. Between last night and today, there's been an awful lot of magin flyin' around for me,and-"
He shook his head. "No,not that. We have one more matter to discuss."
I didn't need my new psychic senses to tell me something bad was coming. "What?"
Dad took a deep breath and folded his arms. "I want you to tell me about Archer Cross. — Rachel Hawkins

But there was something strange about her that made me think she was "somebody." I don't mean her poise, the cool manner in which she stood with arms folded just watching all the goings on at the book party. Kids inherit that poise. It's their enemy, the way ignorance was the enemy of my generation. — Anne Rice

How much do you love me, Bella?"
"Why?"
She stared at me with pleading eyes, her long black eyebrows slanting up in the middle and pulling together, her lips trembling at the corners. It was a heart-breaking expression.
"Please, please, please," she whispered. "Please, Bella, please - if you really love me ... Please let me do your wedding."
"Aw, Alice!" I groaned, pulling away and standing up. "No! Don't do this to me."
"If you really, truly love me, Bella."
I folded my arms across my chest. "That is so unfair. And Edward kind of already used that one on me."
"I'll bet Edward would like it better if you did this traditionally, though he'd never tell you that. And Esme - think what it would mean to her!"
I groaned. "I'd rather face the newborns alone."
"I'll owe you for a decade."
"You'd owe me for a century! — Stephenie Meyer

The fairy had flown over to the window and was peering curiously out at the alley.
"Forget it. Stay here," said Dustfinger. "Please. Believe me, it's no place for you out there."
She looked at him quizzically, then folded her wings and knelt on the windowsill. And there she stayed, as if she coudln't decide between the hot room and the strange freedom to be found outside. — Cornelia Funke

Michael wasn't on the pool deck, which was hard for me. None of my old Coral Springs teammates were around. Still, that old plane of cement felt like home. I folded my clothes and put them on the bench. I placed my water bottle under my starting block, and I dove in. Once again, I felt that ultimate state of transition, my feet no longer on the ground, my hands not yet in the water. — Dara Torres

It was a kiss that had sneaked in through an open window, a kiss that lay folded in a paper giraffe, in the silences between 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, in the pits of the mini mangoes and here, now, at least, it was set free. And the rightness of it, the feeling of longing and belonging, made me want to hold on to it forever. I wanted Damian to keep kissing me, keep kissing, keep kissing, until every other kiss had been erased, until this was the only kiss. — Leylah Attar

She folded her arms and said, "No. We're done with the truth game. Ask me what you want to ask me, and I'll answer or not if I like. I'll ask you anything I want, and you'll answer or not if you like. No forfeit, no control, no balance. No more favors or deals or measuring shit. We'll either have a real, messy conversation, or you can get the hell out."

He grew angry. She could feel it shifting through his energy, slow and sulfurous like slow-moving lava.

She liked it. His anger felt satisfying. It meant he wasn't indifferent to her. So she pushed him harder. "Go on, go. — Thea Harrison

I don't think I would have been able to stick with it and been proud of who I am and be feminine out on the court. I think I would have folded to the peer pressure if I didn't have my mom to encourage me to be me and be proud of how tall I am. — Lisa Leslie

Uh, what are you doing?'
'What does it look like I'm doing?' Jake asks, settling into the seat beside me. The bus jerks forward. 'I'm sitting beside you.'
'No, you're not. Your seat is in the middle. Nice try, though.'
He has the audacity to ignore me, sets his book bag on his lap and rummages through it. After a minute, he pulls out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to me.
I unfold it. 'A love letter? How sweet.'
'No.' He turns pink. 'It's just something I found on the Internet-'
'Porn? You shouldn't have. — Courtney Summers

Here," Grace said as she opened the book again and tore out the page with the poem on it. I flinched as though I were in actual pain. "You should have it, if you like it. Pretty poetry is wasted on me." I took the paper from her and folded it and slipped it into my pocket, half of me horrified that she'd injured a book, the other half of me elated that she'd so willingly given me something that clearly meant a lot to her. — Krystal Sutherland

Nina heaped a plate with food and plunked down beside Matthias on the couch. She folded one of the waffles in half and took a huge bite, wiggling her toes in bliss. "I'm sorry, Matthias," she said with her mouth full. "I've decided to run off with Jesper's father. He keeps me in the deliciousness to which I have become accustomed. — Leigh Bardugo

Angela turned in her chair. Resting her chin on folded hands, the
mirror reflected the look of a girl in love. 'Oh, what a blessing fate has
bestowed on me. — Katherine Givens

It's a bummer in some ways, since she never surprises me by making up my sheets anymore, or leaving folded laundry or a new sundress on my bed like she did when I was in middle school. But at least I know she's not rooting through my drawers while I'm at school, looking for drugs or sex toys or whatever. — Lauren Oliver

Youngest Brother, swan's wing,
where one arm should be, yours the shirt
of nettles short a sleeve
and me with no time left to finish --
I didn't mend you all the way back into man
though I managed for your brothers;
they flit again from court to playing-courts
to courting, while you station yourself,
wing folded from sight, avian eye
to the outside, no rebuke meant but love's.
Was it better then, the living on the water,
the taking to air...?

("Ever After," from the book 'The Poets' Grimm') — Debora Greger

Among them was a middle-aged man supported by two broken sticks. His legs were bent permanently beneath him by accident or disease, and it took him five minutes to cross the room, collect his ballot and shuffle into the booth in front of me. It was painful to watch; as he edged forward I became aware that my heart was racing. Finally - finally - the referendum really was under way. What would happen next? Could Eurico and Basilio have more support than I had assumed? How could the violence of the last seven months fail to have an effect? I should have looked away, but I watched, and saw the man on sticks painstakingly mark his cross in the lower of the two boxes, the one rejecting continuing association with Indonesia. Then he folded the paper, turned his legs around, and began walking slowly towards the ballot box. — Richard Lloyd Parry

I think of Sean folded low over the red stallion, riding bareback at the top of the cliffs. Of the easy way they had with each other when I met him to look at the uisce mare. I think, even, of the way Sean looked when he stood on the bloody festival rock and said his name, and then Corr's, like it was just one fact after the other. Of the way he said "the sky and the sand and the sea and Corr" to me. And I feel a bite of unfairness, because in everything but name, it seems to me that Sean Kendrick already owns Corr. — Maggie Stiefvater

And me not sleeping tonight or tomorrow night or any night for a long while, now that this has started. And he thought of her lying on the bed with the two technicians standing straight over her, not bent with concern, but only standing straight, arms folded. And he remembered thinking then that if she died, he was certain he wouldn't cry. For it would be the dying of an unknown, a street face, a newspaper image, and it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty.

How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you? And that awful flower the other day, the dandelion! It had summed up everything, hadn't it? 'What a shame! You're not in love with anyone!' And why not? — Ray Bradbury

I'm sure your wondering why I've brought you here."
I moved to the center of the room, my strappy sandals clacking on the marble floor. "I'm assuming this is where the punishment part comes in," I said. "So do I need to clean all these mirrors, or do I have to,like, stare at myself until I feel shamed or something?"
Surprisingly, Dad gave a tiny smile. "No,nothing quite that abstract. I want you to break one of the mirrors."
"Excuse me?"
Dad leaned back against the now-drapeless window and folded his arms over his chest. "Break a mirror, Sophie."
"What what, my head? Because I'm pretty sure that'd be corporal punishment, and Mom would not be cool with that."
"With your powers."
Ugh.I took in the dozens of mirros and muttered, "I think I'd rather use my head. — Rachel Hawkins

When we were lovers in high school," he began and she knew who he meant by we, "it was my job to undress him many nights, but his clothes must be folded neatly, precisely, reverently, and then placed on a chair. No mess, no wrinkles. But he ... he would strip me naked and drop all my clothes onto the floor. Then he'd walk on them. Not barefoot, either. With his shoes on most of the time. And you know what?" Kingsley asked as he stepped closer to her, close enough she could kiss him if she wanted to. "What?" "I worshipped him for it." Kingsley smiled at her, a Mona Lisa smile that hinted of secrets but didn't reveal them. — Tiffany Reisz

He stared at her again and then smiled a big, goofy smile. "I didn't really think of it like that." He looked lost in thought for a minute and finally, a mischievous grin formed on his face. "Wait here a minute."
He got up and left. He returned a few minutes later and handed her something. A piece of paper, folded too many times.
"What's this?" She took it from him, amused and smiling with curiosity.
He sat down next to her and shrugged. "I dunno, some guy asked me to give it to you."
She tentatively started unfolding, looking up at him with each bend of the paper. Just before the last fold, she could see the crude handwriting inside, as if it were written by a child. She lifted the sheet, opening it up fully and stared at it.
Danarya, will you go with me?
Please mark the box
Yes [ ] or No [ ]
Paul

"Oh my gosh!" she squealed with delight. She burst out laughing. "I haven't received one of these since fifth grade. — S. Jackson Rivera