Sandy

“- Voglio che ti arrendi al modo in cui tremavi tra le mie braccia quando ti ho toccata, al modo in cui il respiro diventa affannoso quando ti guardo. -”
― Gail McHugh, Collide

“Basta, dovevo uscire da lì! Non potevo starmene chiusa nel gabinetto tutto il giorno e, se l’avessi incontrato, l’avrei ignorato. Aprii la porta e mi ritrovai a qualche metro di distanza da Mister Copertina. Non propriamente una scena romantica. Senza giacca, con le maniche della camicia arrotolate a mettere in evidenza i bicipiti abbronzati, le mani conserte e appoggiato al lavandino era l’incarnazione dell’uomo voglio, comando e posso. Ed era sexy. Troppo. Senza pensare con lucidità, cosa che capitava spesso ultimamente, tornai in bagno e mi chiusi dentro.”
― Elisa Gioia, So che ci sei

“Hurts to see you everyday
Cupid shuts his eyes and shot me twice
Smell your perfume on my bed
Thoughts of you invade my head
Truths are written, never said
And if I can't be yours now
I'll wait here on this ground
Till you come, till you take me away
Maybe someday
Maybe someday”
― Colleen Hoover, Maybe Someday

“Marry me.” A statement. Not a question. It came again. “Marry. Me.” His eyes burned into
mine. I breathed in, my ears ringing. My pulse sped up, my heart raced, I was trying to remember exactly what breathing meant. I was wet, and I was gasping.
“I want you. I want that, what they had today. I want it all, and I want it with you. I want you, want you to be my wife. I’ve got a ring, I’ll give it to you right now if you’ll say yes.” With every
word, his hands tightened on my hips, desperate, crazy, longing. “I had this all planned out, so much smoother and romantic and everything you deserve. But my head’s been spinning since
yesterday, when I saw my best friend steal a van to go meet his new family. And all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is exactly that. Exactly you. And when I walked up those stairs, and heard the
shower go on, and knew you were in here all naked and wet and waiting for me, I knew I couldn’t wait another day, another hour, another minute, without asking you to be my wife. So. Marry. Me.”
He knelt. Christ on a crutch, he knelt on the shower floor, where he had knelt countless times before . . . ahem . . . took my hand, and repeated those words
again. Finally, with a question mark at the end. “Marry me?”
And in that moment, I realized all the worrying, all the hand wringing and wonder ponder, all the thoughts about who says what’s right for a couple, and when is it too soon, and when is it the right time, and if it ain’t broke don’t blah blah blah. Fuck all that noise. It wasn’t about what was right for other couples, it was about what was right for us. Simon and me. Because when Wallbanger kneels down and asks you to be his wife, it’s not really something you need to think too long on. Funny thing about getting proposed to in a shower. You can’t tell which is water and which is tears.”
― Alice Clayton