Gaby

“Goo, quit being nosey and give me a second, please.” There was a hum and then, “Can I have a hug too?” Dallas’s arms flexed and I swore I heard him laugh lightly before one of them dropped from around me as he took a step back. “Have at her, buddy.” It was then I finally glanced down at Louie to find he’d moved to stand beside my hip. The kid blinked and edged closer between us. “No, you too,” he said so effortlessly it made me want to cry. “Sandwich.” Just like that, Dallas crouched and scooped Louie up. One of those little arms went around my neck, and I would bet my life the other was around Dallas’s. The only other thing I knew for sure was that an arm too brawny to belong to a five-year-old wrapped low around my back. The side of my head went to a shoulder and one half of my chest was crushed against a much harder one. “This is nice,” Louie muttered somewhere close to my ear. I couldn’t help it. I laughed, and what I was sure was the hand connected to the arm around my back, stretched wide and covered part of my belly, the tips of long fingers touching my belly button. I sucked in a breath. “Can we do this more?” Lou continued on.”
― Mariana Zapata, Wait for It

“But I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, J. I’m sorry if I mess up sometimes, but—” His body smacked into mine so hard, my spine hit the wall again. Josh hugged me like his life depended on it. He hugged me like he hadn’t since his dad died. The side of his cheek went right along my chest as he held me tight. “You’re better than my real mom, better than Mandy—” “Jesus, Josh. Don’t say stuff like that.” “Why? You always tell me not to lie,” he said into my chest as he hugged me. “I don’t like you crying. Don’t do it anymore.”
― Mariana Zapata, Wait for It

“Resting bitch face was real, and I wore my venom on my sleeve, not my heart—I didn't have one.”
― Nicole Fiorina, Stay With Me

“A year ago, back when we’d shared one bathroom, I’d accidentally walked in on Josh. He’d been buck naked and had yelled like I’d gone in there to kill him, screaming with two hands covering his privates, “Don’t look at my nuggets!” As if I hadn’t seen his little pistachios a thousand times before.”
― Mariana Zapata, Wait for It