Victoria

“El profesor golpea otro escritorio, y la chica con cabello rojo a mi izquierda salta y deja caer todos sus papeles. Me inclino para ayudarla a recogerlos, y estoy sorprendida al descubrir una página entera de garabatos de un tatuaje de calavera familiar. Miro hacia arriba en sorpresa, y su cara se enciende como su cabello rojo. Miro hacia Josh y luego levanto mis cejas hacia ella.

Sus ojos se amplían en horror, pero sacudo mi cabeza y sonrío. No le diré.

¿Cuál es su nombre? Isla. Isla Martin. Vive en mi piso, pero es tan silenciosa que a menudo me olvido de ella. Tendrá que ser más ruidosa si le gusta Josh. Ambos son tímidos. Es una lástima, porque se verían lindos juntos. Probablemente pelearía menos que con Rashmi, también. ¿Por qué es que las personas adecuadas no terminan juntas? ¿Por qué las personas tienen miedo de abandonar una relación, incluso cuando saben que es una mala relación?”
― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

“Literature is humanity talking to itself.”
― Norman Rush

“You aren't like your mom."
"I am.But I don't want to be like that anymore,I want what I want." He turns to me again,his face anxious. "I told my father's friends that I'm studying at Berkeley next year.It worked.He's really,really angry with me,but it worked.You told me to go for his pride.You were right."
"So." I'm cautious,hardly daring to believe. "You're moving to California?"
"I have to."
"Right." I swallow hard. "Because of your mom."
"Because of you. I'll only be a twenty-minute train ride from your school,and I'll make the commute to see you every night.I'd take a commute ten times that just to be with you every night."
His words are too perfect.It must be a misunderstanding,surely I'm misunderstanding-
"You're the most incredible girl I've ever known.You're gorgeous and smart, and you make my laugh like no one else can.And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don't deserve you,but what I'm trying to say is that I love you,Anna.Very much."
I'm holding my breath.I can't talk,but my eyes are filling with tears.
He takes it the wrong way. "Oh God.And I've mucked things up again,haven't I? I didn't mean to attack you like this.I mean I did but...all right." His voice cracks. "I'll leave.Or you can go down first,and then I'll come down,and I promise I'll never bother you again-"
He starts to stand,but I grab his arm. "No!"
His body freezes. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I never mean to hurt you."
I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. "Please stop apologizing,Etienne."
"Say my name again," he whispers.
I close my eyes and lean forward. "Etienne."
He takes my hands into his.Those pefect hands,that fit mine just so. "Anna?"
Our foreheads touch. "Yes?"
"Will you please tell me you love me? I'm dying here."
And then we're laughing.And them I'm in his arms,and we're kissing,at first quickly-to make up for lost time-and then slowly,because we have all the time in the world.And his lips are soft and honey sweet,and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I taste,too.
And in between kisses,I tell him I love him.
Again and again and again.”
― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

“You tell me I'm beautiful,and that you like my hair and you like my smile. You rest your leg against mine in darkened theaters,and then you act as if nothing happened when the lights go up.You slept in my bed for three nights straight,and then you just...blew me off for the next month.What am I supposed to do with that,St. Clair? You said on my birthday that you were afraid of being alone,but I've been here this whole time.This whole time.”
― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss