Think Girl On Back Quotes & Sayings

Not every girl has a bad-boy problem. Some of my friends get into relationships constantly. Others cheat all the time, or run away. Some get jealous. Some think they are too undateable to even try. Our dating pool is a circus of fuckups, misfits, and past mistakes that we keep on making. The brand of baggage you're carrying on your back is the issue. But most of all, I think we fear the same thing. I think that thing is love. Real love. Think of your first love. Think of how Bambi-like you were, prancing around all excited and in love with everything. Then think of how that happiness was beaten to death with a hatchet, spit on, shit on, leaving you cold. If you watch something you care about get destroyed, you're not going to want to go back to that place, no matter how pleasant it ever was. — Alida Nugent

I remember once when I was young, and I was coming back from some place, a movie or something.
I was on the subway and there was a girl sitting across from me and she was wearing this dress that was bottoned queer up right to here, she was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
And I was shy then, so when she would look at me I would look away, then afterwards when I would look back she would look away.
Then I got to where I was gonna get off, and got off, the doors closed, and as the train was pulling away she looked right at me and gave me the most incredible smile. It was awful, I wanted to tear the doors open.
And I went back every night, same time, for two weeks, but she never showed up.
That was 30 years ago and I don't think that theres a day that goes by that I don't think about her, I don't want that to happen again.
Just one dance ?. — Jack Engelhard

I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home. Peeta hesitates, then gives an unconvincing shake of his head.
Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar.
Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."
Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to.
She have another fellow?" asks Caesar.
I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta.
So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly.
I don't think it's going to work out. Winning ... won't help in my case," says Peeta.
Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified.
Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because ... because ... she came here with me. — Suzanne Collins

I bite my lip as I begin reading: She needs some sun! Her eyes are hard to see - they're too dark; her nose is thin; no cheek bones!; I think her lips are uneven; her chin is really square, and my favorite: is that a mole or a zit? Awesome. Twenty pages of these cryptic remarks sure do make a girl feel good about herself. The last page changes my sour mood completely. On it there is a sketch of my face - no, sketch is the wrong word. It's too common a word. This is more than a sketch. This is a portrait of my face. The image of the girl staring back at me is so stunning, that I actually gasp. The handwriting on the bottom of the page, which is small and elegant, holds only two words: You're perfect. — Danielle Bannister

GRANDMA: Are you a gay?
ORPHEUS: I am straight. I'm definitely dating a girl, gran. Do you think she's a man?
*She laughs*
ORPHEUS' BRAIN: Thank god she took it as a joke. I would have been executed on the town square for such a rude back answer. — Scarlett Brukett

Have I ever pretended to be something? I think back in college I think I might have told a girl that I was a professional tennis player once. And then, of course, she had never heard of me so I had to dig deeper. 'I'm just sort of on the playing satellites. You know, I'm kind of working my way up. I'm not ranked in the top 100 or anything.' — James Roday

I am happy to see him on the couch, his huge feet on the arm, dirtying the cloth. I am happy to hear him stomping upstairs across the floorboards and whipping towels at his sisters after he has showered. I am happy to hear him screaming for no reason, bounding down the stairs, reaching the bottom and wildly petting Nelly, shaking her head back and forth, and calling her a good girl. I think how it doesn't matter who shot my son. My son is back. — Yannick Murphy

Katniss: I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.
Peeta: (Gives an unconvincing shake of head.)
Caesar: Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?
Peeta: Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping.
Caesar: She have another fellow?
Peeta: I don't know, but a lot of boys like her.
Caesar: So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down, eh?
Peeta: I don't think it's going to work out. Winning ... won't help in my case.
Caesar: Why ever not?
Peeta: Because ... because ... she came here with me.
Caesar: Oh, that is a piece of bad luck.
Peeta: It's not good.
Caesar: Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?
Peeta: Not until now. — Suzanne Collins

I heard - " I began.
"I let you hear," he cut me off.
I shut my mouth, closed the door, and leaned back against it. The corners of his lips turned up as if at some private amusement, and for a moment I thought we were having one of those silent conversations.
You think it's safe to close yourself in with the Beast?
If you think I'm afraid of you, you're wrong.
You should be afraid.
Maybe you should be afraid of me. Go ahead, piss me off, Barrons. See what happens.
Little girl thinks she's all grown up now.
His mouth moved into a smile that I've grown familiar with over the past few months, shaped of competing tensions: part mockery, part pissed off, and part turned on. Men are so complicated. — Karen Marie Moning

Hello, old friend. And here we are. You and me, on the last page. By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well and were very happy. And above all else, know that we will love you always. Sometimes I do worry about you though. I think once we're gone you won't be coming back here for awhile. And you might be alone. Which you should never be. Don't be alone, Doctor. And do one more thing for me. There's a little girl waiting in a garden. She's going to wait a long while, so she's going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her that if she's patient, the days are coming that she'll never forget. Tell her she'll go to see and fight pirates. She'll fall in love with a man who'll wait two thousand years to keep her safe. Tell her she'll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived. And save a whale in outer space. Tell her, this is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends. — Steven Moffat

One Dad I know uses what I call Post-It Note therapy on his children. He leaves sticky Post-It Notes everywhere ... in their lunch box, inside their shoes, on top of their sandwich before he wraps it up. He once went into his daughter's room, looking for his hammer, and on the back of her bedroom door were every Post-It Note he'd ever given her - over 250 in all with simple messages like 'Great job' ... 'I love you' ... or 'You're special to me.' Do you think that girl knew, without a doubt, that her Dad valued her and loved her? — Jack Canfield

Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home. I'd been writing letters once a week and signing them: "Love, Nick," and all I could think of was how, when that certain girl played tennis, a faint mustache of perspiration appeared on her upper lip. Nevertheless there was a vague understanding that had to be tactfully broken off before I was free. — F Scott Fitzgerald

She repeated what her mother had told me, that she had been moved when she heard me playing as she passed the house. She had seen me on the street a few times, too, and begun to worship me. She actually used that word: worship. It made me turn bright red. I mean, to be 'worshiped' by such a beautiful little doll of a girl! I don't think it was an absolute lie, though. I was in my thirties already, of course, and I could never be as beautiful and bright as she was, and I had no special talent, but I must have had something that drew her to me, something that was missing in her, I would guess. Which must have been what got her interested in my to begin with. I believe that now, looking back. And I'm not boasting. — Haruki Murakami

Girls like Caroline and Lily are constantly performing, as much for the Good Girl they think they should be as for the adults and peers who look on. They have spent their lives growing internally dependent on external rewards: pats on the back A's, club presidencies, Most Valuable Player trophies. They become more concerned with how they appear and should be than who they are What other think and feel replaces what is true for them. — Rachel Simmons

All the general fear I've been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this girl, this predator who might kill me in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through me and I sling the pack over one shoulder and run full-speed for the woods. I can hear the blade whistling toward me and reflexively hike the pack up to protect my head. The blade lodges in the pack. Both straps on my shoulders now, I make for the trees. Somehow I knew the girl will not pursue me. That she'll be drawn back into the Cornucopia before all the good stuff is gone. A grin crosses my face. Thanks for the knife, I think. — Suzanne Collins

You're a bit elderly, Abigail, I'll give you that, but I don't think you've ever been dotty in your life, and I'm certainly not finding you dear at the moment - more like diabolical."
Lucetta's lips curved ever so slightly. "I'll wear that frock just to appease you, but don't think I'm going to be happy about it." She turned and stomped out of the room.
"Don't forget the tiara I left beside the dress," Abigail called. "Or the sparkly shoes that are right on the floor, dear."
"I'm not wearing a tiara," Lucetta yelled back. Abigail grinned.
"She's such a dear, sweet girl. Possessed of such a quiet and delicate nature. — Jen Turano

Kim called me a slut under her breath in H&P, and Mr. Wallace heard her and gave a lecture on the negative effects of labels, and how words like that serve to limit women's sexual expression, and how there's a whole history of words that basically mean slut8 and yet there are no equivalent epithets for men whatsoever, and didn't that say something about how women are viewed in our culture? He said a more accurate term could be: "a girl who's using sexuality in an attempt to gain approval from the opposite sex ... ." Or, if you look at it a different way, "a liberated, open girl who likes boys and feels comfortable expressing affection, but is misunderstood." Blah blah blah.
I'm sure he meant well, but I wanted to call Kim a megaslut right back and not think about it anymore — E. Lockhart

A friend's 14-year-old niece was asked by her teacher what she wanted to be when she finished school. The teacher asked her to think hard about it and then get back to him with an answer. She didn't know what to say to her teacher. A friend, on hearing the girl's predicament, said: 'Tell your teacher that, perhaps, the thing you want to be when you leave school hasn't been invented yet. — Ian Sanders

He leaned forward to inspect her closer. "Is that all hair?"
... Sudden, overwhelming panic clawed up Cress's throat. With a squeak, she ducked out of view of the camera and scrambled beneath the desk. Her back struck the wall with a thud that rattled her teeth. She crouched there, skin burning hot and pulse thundering as she took in the room before her - the room that he was now seeing too, with the rumpled bedcovers and the mustached man on all the screens telling her to grab her imaginary partner and swing them around.
"Wha - where'd she go?" Thorne's voice came to her through the screen.
"Honestly, Thorne." A girl. Linh Cinder? "Do you ever think before you speak?"
"What? What did I say?"
" 'Is that all hair?' "
"Did you see it? It was like a cross between a magpie nest and ball of yarn after it's been mauled by a cheetah."
A beat. Then, "A cheetah?"
"It was the first big cat that came to mind. — Marissa Meyer

Athena: "What makes you human? What's different about you
from every other creature out there?"
"We can think?" a boy wearing a loose button up shirt and khakis called
from the front row.
"We have emotions?" a girl asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of
her nose with her pinkie.
"We're self-aware? Like, we think about thinking and time and stuff?"
Gods, when had college kids become so uncertain? All their replies ended
with an upward lilt like they were asking a question instead of supplying
an answer.
After a couple of students gave faltering answers, I [Hades] called from the back
of the room, voice strong and certain, "They can lie."
Athena jerked her head toward me, panic flashing in her eyes as she
scanned the rows of students. When her gaze locked on mine, the color
drained from her face. "Class dismissed. — Kaitlin Bevis

You never think it's gonna happen to you, but all that pollution and dirty fumes and flights and factories and shit we don't need and suddenly there you are, a stupid girl sitting alone on some steps, waiting to see if your family is ever coming back. — Saci Lloyd

She touched his cheek. "I wondered what love felt like," she said. "Now I know." He crushed her to his chest again. There was no pretense with her. He kissed her again, not caring to hold back the depth of his love. His breathing was ragged when he raised his head. "Oh Addie, Addie, what did I do before you came into my life?" Tears shone on her lashes. "I don't think I lived before tonight." "We must be married. Quite soon, darling girl. I can't wait for long." "I'd marry you tonight," she said. "Right now." He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger. "I'll ask your father for your hand tonight." A shadow darkened the joy in her eyes. "What about Lord Carrington?" "What about him?" "Father seems quite set on a match with him." She wet her lips. "I've been thinking about what you said. That God might be disciplining him. You might be right. — Colleen Coble

Ginger, truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Forgive me for taking the idea from Kai, but I dare you to snog Blake-" She modified the request at the insistent stare from her sister. "Oh, come on! Just the teeniest peck on the lips."
I thought she would still refuse, but apparently she wasn't one to outright turn down a dare. She turned to Blake and pointed a finger at him.
"Try to cop a feel and I'll make Anna's chair flip look angelic," she warned.
He grinned and she leaned in, both closing their eyes as she pressed her lips against his for one, two, three seconds. It appeared innocent, but they were shy when they pulled away and sat back.
"Right," Ginger said, clearing her throat. "My turn. Jay, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Do you fancy Marna?"
"I'm not sure what that means, but if you're asking if I like her and think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever met and I wish she would move here, then yes."
Marna and I giggled at his brazen, smitten openness. — Wendy Higgins

The Marquess shrugged. "I'm a shadow. I do know I am a shadow, Iago. I know most of the time. It's only when I cannot bear how everyone looks at me down here that I make myself forget it. Shadows are the other side of yourself. I had longings to be good, even then. I was just stronger than my wanting. I'm stronger than anything, really, when I want to be." The Marquess's hair turned white as the snow. "Do you know, we're right underneath Springtime Parish? This place is the opposite of springtime. Everything past prime, boarded up for the season. Just above us, the light shines golden on daffodils full of rainwine and heartgrass and a terrible, wicked, sad girl I can't get back to. I don't even know if I want to. Do I want to be her again? Or do I want to be free? I come here to think about that. To be near her and consider it. I think I shall never be free. I think I traded my freedom for a better story. It was a better story, even if the ending needed work. — Catherynne M Valente

You and I both know there's got to be some greater storyline for you than 'girl gets heart broken, was sad forever'. I think a nice one would be 'girl gets heart broken, was sad for a while but in her heartbreak she found freedom, friends, and the ability to look back and laugh at all she'd learned. She now lives her life on her own terms and still has fantastic hair.' — Taylor Swift

As a girl who was raised on the idea that we should give back to our community as much as possible, I believe that we have more power than we think when it comes to making change. — Laura Marano

I think this reason why girls don't do well on multiple choice tests goes all the way back to the Bible, all the way back to Genesis, Adam and Eve. God said, 'All right, Eve, multiple choice or multiple orgasms, what's it going to be?' We all know what was chosen. — Rush Limbaugh

What if a zombie came in,reeking of death and decay? He'd totally go for te Vicious Redhead Soccer Girl sitting right by the door.I could take a zombie. That ruler on the teacher's desk looked like a sharp edge,and how cool would my classmates think I was? Especially if I had Tasey.
I sighed,leaning my head back and staring up at the ceiling.It would never work. No ruler would be sharp enough. Besides which,I never bring Tasey to school.And even if I saved everyone in the class,I'd probably still be expelled due to the school's zero tolerance policy on violence.
I'd just have to live without the everlasting appreciation and admiration of my classmates. — Kiersten White

When I worked with M.I.A., who was, like, the coolest person back then, she was just a girl I met on the Internet. Or even when I met Azealia Banks on Myspace, I never thought, 'Oh, she's cool.' I just loved what she was doing. So I've always been like that. And I think, as a producer, that's what you've gotta do. — Diplo

The scent of the sea and the burning asphalt being carried on the southerly wind made me think of summers past. The warmth of a girl's skin, old rock n' roll, button-down shirts right out of the wash, the smell of cigarettes smoked in the pool locker room, faint premonitions, everyone's sweet, limitless summer dreams. And then one year(when was it?), those dreams didn't come back. — Haruki Murakami

He started wrapping the fabric around my eyes and I laughed, "Caeden, what are you doing?"
"I think that's pretty obvious. I'm blindfolding you, silly girl."
He secured the knot on the back of my head. "You better not mess up my hair," I warned. — Micalea Smeltzer

I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing.
He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced air, and turned his back to me. "Was that an invitation, Ms.Lane?"
"If it was?" I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing?
"I don't do hypotheticals. Little girl. — Karen Marie Moning

Leave the girl alone, Clete, and let's get back on the road," the tall driver said, and his voice had that "I'm done with you" edge to it. "I don't know who this guy is, but I don't think he changes into a nutria. — Charlaine Harris

Everyone thinks that it was the big strong caveman who got the girl, and for the most part, that may have been true, but physical strength doesn't explain how our species created civilization. I think there was always some scrawny dreamer sitting at the edge of the firelight, who had the ability to imagine dangers, to look into the future in his imagination and see possibilities, and therefore survived to pass his genes on to the next generation. When the big ape men ended up running off the cliff or getting killed while trying to beat a mastodon into submission with a stick, the dreamer was standing back thinking 'Hey, that might work, but you need to run the mastodon off the cliff.' And, then he'd mate with the women left over after the go-getters got killed. — Christopher Moore

When my friend Melot set the trap, I think I knew it. I turned to death full face, as I had turned to love with my whole body. I would let death enter me as you had entered me. You had crept along my blood vessels through the wound, and the blood that circulates returns to the heart. You circulated me, you made me blush like a girl in the hoop of your hands. You were in my arteries and my lymph, you were the colour just under my skin, and if I cut myself, it was you I bled. Red Isolde, alive on my fingers, and always the force of blood pushing you back to my heart. — Jeanette Winterson

We straighten , bu our snickering is barely contained as we attempt to focus our attention on a picture of a discarded Coke can. "This guy's lady love is kind of a slob, don't you think?" he whispers.
I cover my mouth with my hands again.
"A reaaaaaaaal litterbug."
"Stop it," I hiss. My eyes are watering. "Ohmygod look at this one! How did he get her toenail clippings?"
"If you were my girl," he whispers, "I'd take creepy pictures of your trash when I knew you weren't looking."
"If you were my girl," I whisper back," I"d put the creepy pictures in a foreign museum so you wouldn't know that I take creepy pictures. — Stephanie Perkins

I met eight great members. I really don't think that anyone else could get along like how our nine girls get along so well. Because we're girls, there can be a lot of jealousy going on. Thinking back on it now, I think I'm a kid who received a lot of good fortune. — Kim Hyo-yeon

There was knock on the door and I knew it was Romeo. Butterflies took flight in my stomach as I went to answer. I was so nervous about tonight.
Romeo's eyes widened when I pulled back the door. He whistled beneath his breath. "Holy shit, Smalls."
"Do I look okay?" I worried. "Think your mother will approve?"
Romeo reached out and grabbed me by the waist. "You don't have to impress her. I don't want or need her approval. You're my girl. The end."
"No take backs?" I whispered.
He smiled. "No take backs. — Cambria Hebert

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. — Sylvia Plath

I can't believe it," she said. "I just can't believe it." "Neither can I," Jessica said, eyeballing the door. "And if you'll just let me by, I'll go get some help - " "Oh," Abigail said, with another laugh, "you're perfectly safe. I'm not crazy." She held out her hand. "Abigail Moira Garrett de Piaget. Local girl from Freezing Bluff, Michigan. Nice to meet you." Jessica felt her jaw slip down to land with a figurative thud on her chest. "You're kidding." Abigail pulled her hand back and hugged herself, still laughing in a gasping kind of way. "Oh, honey, you just don't know the half of it." Jessica could hardly think straight. "You're from - " "1996. Fell into a pond and resurfaced in Miles's moat in 1248. It's a wonder he took me in with the way I smelled." "Then you're from - " "Michigan. And what I wouldn't give for a York peppermint patty about now. — Lynn Kurland

That's when I notice Cheryl and Mickey cuddled up on the couch. She's leaning on his shoulder, his arm around her, her leg across his lap. Cheryl throws glances at Kerry that say, "Look at me!" while Kerry shoots a "You go, girl!" smirk right back. I think of CK, how he and I often sat like that. Not because we were seconds from making out or wanted to look like a couple, but just out of a deep, platonic connection. My heart hits a higher notch on the ache-o-meter, my teeth sear into my bottom lip, and then something inside me snaps as cleanly as a crayon. — Kea Alwang

I missed my one true friend, my mother. She and I were close in a way I don't think many other mothers and daughters were. I slept beside her every night of my childhood: so near to her back, I could probably sketch the constellation of moles and freckles on her skin there. When I was a very little girl, every morning I would wake before her and arrange myself so that when she woke, we were eye-to-eye. I miss her, with a never-ending ache that I did not think was possible, that crowds out any other feeling and certainly all reason, and any good sense. — Kaitlyn Greenidge

I am lying in the same bed where my mother died so long ago; on the same mattress,
beneath the same black wool coverlet she wrapped us in to sleep. I slept beside her, her
little girl, in the special place she made for me in her arms.
I think I can still feel the calm rhythm of her breathing; the palpitations and sighs that
soothed my sleep ... I think I feel the pain of her death ... But that isn't true.
Here I lie, flat on my back, hoping to forget my loneliness by remembering those times.
Because I am not here just for a while. And I am not in my mother's bed but in a black box
like the ones for burying the dead. Because I am dead.
I sense where I am, but I can think ... — Juan Rulfo

And what, you think you can fix me?" she asks, turning in her stool to face me, shifting her body closer, so close I can smell the liquor on her warm breath as she whispers, "Think you can make me whole again? Save me from the world? Save me from myself? Fill me up, maybe fuck the feeling back into me, like the big, strong, man you are? Make me a real woman, instead of a broken little girl?"
There's a sickening sweetness to her voice that sends a chill down my spine. If I never heard a thinly veiled 'fuck you' before, that was certainly one for the books. I move closer to her, uncomfortably so, cocking my head slightly as I lean in, watching as her body tenses. She thinks I'm about to kiss her, my mouth just inches from hers, before I stop, my voice gritty as I say, "On the contrary, Scarlet, I don't think you need to be fixed at all."
"No?"
"No," I say. "I think you're perfect the way you are. — J.M. Darhower

You were attacked by a jaguar, and you didn't think to tell me? Are you all right?"
"You knew I was a girl and you still came out to talk to me in the middle of the night without a shirt on?" I shot right back.
"You did what? — Sara B. Larson

U.S.S.R. And it is a big deal for a Moroi to be with a dhampir girl. They like to brag." "So?" "So?" he looked disgusted. "So don't you have any respect? Think about Lissa. You make yourself look cheap. You live up to what a lot of people already think about dhampir girls, and it reflects back on her. And me. — Richelle Mead

Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene, I hardly paid it any mind. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that eighteen years later I would recall it in such detail. I didn't give a damn about the scenery that day. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together, and then about myself again. It was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me. And worse, I was in love. Love with complications. The scenery was the last thing on my mind. — Haruki Murakami

Just then, a little hopped-up Japanese car zips up next to us. It's bright yellow with loud, high-pitched exhaust pipes and a big air spoiler on the back. I look over at the driver to see who's making all the racket. I'm surprised to see a teenage girl there. After a moment, she gooses it and whinnies on past. On her back window, there's a sticker: NO FEAR.
I think, good girl. — Michael Zadoorian

Hey, Hayley," I say as I sit down and pick up one of her action figures. She has Barbies, too, but she would rather play with her Legos and building blocks. Maybe she'll be an engineer one day. Or maybe she'll be an amazing tattoo artist like her dad. I make her action figure kiss her Barbie, and she giggles. "I think they're in love," I whisper. "Like you and my daddy," she says back quietly. I nod. And emotion clogs my throat again. I turn my head and cough, and then I dump a box of Legos on the floor. "I think Barbie needs a fortress," I say. She nods, and we start to build a plastic fortress together, because sometimes a girl just needs a fucking fortress. — Tammy Falkner

Yeah, well don't get used to it," I mutter back. "I ain't no damn Hooters waitress." I catch his grin out of the corner of my eye. "You? A Hooters girl? I don't think you have big enough - " "Choose your next words carefully, Whitman," I cut him off mid-sentence, my eyes narrowed. "They could mean the world of difference on who keeps you company in bed tonight. Me or the palm sisters." "Feet. — Michelle Bryan

I'm the drummer for Stage Dive." Mat set the crazily expensive camera on the seat beside him. "You can't order me around, child bride."
"It's so cute that you think that's still funny, calling me child bride." From her back jean pocket, Ev pulled out her cell. "Am I calling Anne to tattle on you for refusing to give Jimmy and Lena some privacy or not?"
"You wouldn't dare."
Her fingers moved across the screen. "Oh, I think I would."
David and Ben chuckled in ther manly way, but did as told and went back into the recording studio. They clearly weren't messing with the girl.
A second later, Mal followed. "I do not like you women all being friends. This is not okay."
"And you should tell your grilfriend all about it when you see her tonight. I'd love to know what she says." With a final wave, Ev followed him back inside the mixing room or whatever it was called. — Kylie Scott

Well, let's just hope it doesn't come to that." I started back down the alley. "Truthfully, it's not you I'm so much worried about as your ass. It's like the Eighth Wonder of the World or something. Be a shame to deprive future generations of Dreamers, don't you think?" My stomach rumbled. "Come on, I'm starving." A snort escaped him. "Nice to know you care." I patted my belly and shrugged. "Yeah, well. A girl's gotta have priorities. — Allison Pang

A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn't think he'd remember. You take me. One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn't see me at all, but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl. — Herman J. Mankiewicz

Interesting. And does Abu have anything else to say?" she asked, leaning closer.
Cinnamon. Her breath smelled of cinnamon. He could even smell her skin at that distance. Though he wasn't one normally prone to poetry, he could only think of a fresh desert breeze that carried a whisper of cypress and sandalwood.
"He wishes there was something he could do to help..." That at least was honest. He wasn't exactly sure how kissing would help her. He just knew it was going to happen or he was going to die.
"Tell him I just might take him up on that," the girl said, closing her eyes and tilting her head.
Aladdin put his arm around her back and prepared for the best thing that had ever happened to him. — Liz Braswell