Amanda Pea

“You know that half the girls in school would have been after you."

He gave a soft laugh. "If they were into someone who was flunking out...I don't think I'd do too well with having to go to class when a bell rings or caring about homework..."

"A bad boy--even better. You'd have done well in Spanish class."

"If I ever went to it."

We lay in silence for a awhile; Alex's arms felt so warm and safe that I was starting to get sleepy. "Say something in Spanish," I mumbled.

He kissed my hair. "Te amo, Willow," he said quietly.

I came awake, smiling into the darkness. "What does that mean?" I whispered.

I could almost hear his own smile. "What do you think it means?"

I hugged him, kissing his collarbone and wondering if it was possible to actually die of happiness. "Te amo, Alex.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel

“Love, hope, fear, faith - these make humanity; These are its sign and note and character”
― Robert Browning, Browning's Paracelsus: being the text of Browning's poem

“I believe unconditionally in the right of people with uteruses to decide what grows inside of their body and feeds on their blood and endangers their life and reroutes their future. There are no ‘good’ abortions and ‘bad’ abortions, there are only pregnant people who want them and pregnant people who don’t, pregnant people who have access and support and pregnant people who face institutional roadblocks and lies.”
― Lindy West, Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman

“For a long time we just held each other, our hearts beating hard. My eyes were closed, my face pressed against the warm dip between his shoulder and neck. Alex. I felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within me, as if something I'd been looking for my entire life had just slotted into place, making me whole.

Finally Alex drew back. Stroking my hair from my face, he kissed me slowly, and I wanted to melt. "I can't believe that I can just do that whenver I want to now," he whispered. "You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years."

Years. My heart skipped, hoping that was true. "I think I can live with that," I said. Hardly able to believe that I could touch him whenever I wanted to, either, I slid my hand down his arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin. "Do you want to go to bed?" I asked softly. Then, for the second time that night, I felt my face flame at the question.

Alex smiled and touched my cheek. "You still mean sleep, right?"

"Still sleep." My skin was on fire.

"Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I'm sure I'll manage to drop off. Eventually." His smile turned teasing. "Do I have to put my shirt on?"

I couldn't help smiling, too, though embarrassment was still singeing through me. "No, I'd rather you didn't," I admitted.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel