“You kiss with your heart and soul,” he said nipping my bottom lip. “You kiss me with everything that you’ve got. A man doesn’t forget that. I’m the man that needs that right now, Drew.”

Axle’s appearance back into my life was either fate or a cruel prank and I didn’t know which.

And because I didn’t have previous experience with relationships, I ran away instead of demanding an explanation. In the end, I broke my own heart.

“Fuck you,” he says spitting again. “I don’t answer to you, bitch.”
“True,” I say in agreement then twirl my backup. “But you will answer to Woody.”
“Oh yeah?” he laughs and I’ll note he was the only one. “Who’s Woody?” Shrugging easily, I twirl him once, twice, and then I line up. “Oh, just my bat.”

That grin meant the world to me because I was the only one who was on the receiving end of it.

Graham doesn't fill a hole inside me. He doesn't fix what is broken. He just makes everything brighter.

My view on my body is this: it is what it is. I am not embarrassed of the curves or lack of curves I have, nor ashamed, and really, my body isn't going to substantially change no matter what I do or don't, so I might as well be confident about it. Shyness has no role in my world.

A good thing about being so close to someone is that they know you so well. A bad thing about being so close to someone is that they know you so well.

Wet with booze, looking like a wilted flower, she beams and somehow manages to come off angelic. I scrunch my nose up. I hate people that look cute even when they shouldn't.

I remember I used to think Bentley was really cute. Nowadays, every single guy seemed to pale in comparison to Elec on the physical attraction meter. I wanted to crush that meter with a sledgehammer.

Knowing what his lips felt like on mine and how he’d tasted wasn’t a memory that could so easily be erased.

Randy stormed toward the stairs pointing his finger. “Cut the shit, Elec. You say hello to Sarah in a decent way.” “Hello to Sarah in a decent way,” Elec repeated in a monotone voice as he walked up the stairs.

His lips were perfect—too perfect—for the filth I was sure came out of them.

Sometimes when someone is sad all their life, they forget how to be happy. Instead of enjoying the good things they look for the bad

‘It’s not a competition, is it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got your thing, I’ve got mine, we’re on the same team, right ? Lookit, I can’t draw a stick man without it looking like a crime scene, and you can’t make anything in the kitchen without it looking like one either, so we have that.’
‘Haha – very funny,’ I said, rolling my eyes. Crime scene, indeed!

No one tells you how grief can twist you inside out and make the simplest thing – like seeing a group of women who’d loved the person you lost almost as fiercely as you – an impossibly hard, heartbreaking task. Particularly when, shining in each and everyone’s eyes, was a reflection of what we’d all lost.

At Christmas when we’d put up our tree, I’d look at it and say it felt like Christmas. He’d tell me it was the Christmas spark. The moment that healed our hearts from anything in the previous year and gave us hope for what was to come.

A kiss that would be forever remembered. An epic, once-in-a-lifetime kiss.

I came because if there is one thing I think I'm finally learning in life, it's that Christmas isn't about how the turkey looks, or whether or not you can feel your toes. It's about being with the people you love and who love you best.

Lydia smiled at him, Christmas warmth spreading through her as she looked up at the tree.