Lisa

“What Misery is to Lowe, you are to me.”
Oh.
Oh?
Oh. “Is this a, um… terminal diagnosis?”
His lips twitch. “No cure, I’m afraid.”
“I see.” I clear my throat. “Well, this relationship sure escalated quickly.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate

“Word of advice, killer?” he murmurs. “Stubborn and stupid is just a couple letters’ difference.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate

“The most recent post was from yesterday —Christmas— and it was of the foosball table Shane had given him. No caption. He scrolled and found a photo of the exercise ball Shane had been balancing on in Ilya's gym. One of the latest puzzle Ilya had completed with Shane's dad. One of Ilya's loon tattoo.
One of the two plastic heart rings, together on Shane's dresser.
Shane realized that most or Ilya's posts were, in weird cryptic ways, about Shane. His entire account was like a secret diary of their relationship, full of inside jokes and little references that only Shane would understand.
And Shane hadn't even bothered to look at it before. Not really.
He looked now. He scrolled until his eyes were so blurry that he had to give up and sob into his hands instead. How could Shane have doubted for a second how fiercely Ilya loved him?”
― Rachel Reid, The Long Game

“Hang on. What would I have gotten if I’d chosen the other?” “A hug.” His eyes widen. Then squint. “What if I want to change my answer?”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate