Rose

“I don’t hate you,” I repeated, looking at him even though he’d glanced away by then. “Why the hell would you think that?” “Because you’ve said, ‘I hate you.’” I blinked. “That doesn’t mean I really hate you. I didn’t know you were that sensitive. I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you-hate you.”
― Mariana Zapata, From Lukov with Love

“Please! Please! Tell me someone has recorded your practices together. Ooh! Tell me you’re doing a live video of them. I would watch every minute. Give me all your competition dates in advance. It’ll be the Hunger Games on ice. I’ll buy everyone in the family front row seats,” she cried out, her voice full of laughter.”
― Mariana Zapata, From Lukov with Love

“Who… who…?” he stuttered, another sign of how furious he was. Ivan never stuttered. Never faltered. And even his neck was going red. He gave the papers another shake. “Who did this?” I swallowed. “Who sent this shit to you?”
― Mariana Zapata, From Lukov with Love

“And when we win a fucking gold medal, he’s going to be watching you, thinking he couldn’t be prouder of you. He’s going to walk around telling everyone his daughter won a gold medal, and you’re going to know you did it without him.”
― Mariana Zapata, From Lukov with Love