Tess

“I’m thirty years old, and it’s safe to say that at this precise moment I definitely do not know where I am going.”
― Lia Louis, Dear Emmie Blue

“Um, and this is….Ilya. Rozanov. You probably know that.”
“Hi,” Ilya said.
“And he’s been…visiting. He’s…we’re, um…”
What were they, exactly? It occurred to Shane that he and Ilya hadn’t even figured out what label they were comfortable with.
“Lovers,” Ilya offered.
Fuck, way to choose the grossest possible word, Ilya.
Well, there was no going back from that word. Shane could only wait for the aftermath.
“But…you hate him,” Mom said.
“No, I…don’t. I mean. Sometimes I do, kinda. But mostly I..love him. Actually.”
“You..what?”
― Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry

“I look down at my wet jeans, the old, squelching sandals, the towel around me, and bring a knuckle to my eye, crusted with dry-again mascara. "God. Look at me," I say, voice cracking. "Just look at me."
Eliot stares at me. And softly, into the silence of the car, he says, "I am.”
― Lia Louis, Dear Emmie Blue

“Happiness," she says. "What is that, to Emmie Blue?"
"Wow," I say with a smile, "that's a... big question."
[...] "I suppose when I was younger, a few years ago, I would have said... a family. A normal, safe family life."
[...]
"You know," I say, "a home, with flowers in the window, a relationship with my mum where maybe she pops in for lunch now and then. Children, one day, maybe. Someone..." I swallow, words becoming increasingly difficult to say. "Someone to love. Someone to love me."
"Love," says Louise. "So you think love is happiness?"
I hesitate, laugh, nerves turning it into a high-pitched giggle. "I—don't know. Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. For me.”
― Lia Louis, Dear Emmie Blue