Kelly

“Well,” he says; a smile curves his mouth, promising wonderful acts of misbehavior, “in that case—”

And, well.

I like my body when it’s with his body.”
― Hannah Johnson, Know Not Why

“Fuck you, shiny hair, and fuck the head you grew on.”
― Hannah Johnson, Know Not Why

“Um,” Arthur says. He’s looking at me dead-on, like he’s forcing himself to do it. God, I wish he would knock it off. I also wish he’d lose his eyelashes in a freak eyelash fire incident. And his lips, too, because all of a sudden I’m looking at them, what is that. “Yes. I thought we should discuss—”

“You mouth-mauling me?” I ask loudly, indignantly, like a tough sonuvabitch who doesn’t want to be mouth-mauled. I make myself meet his eyes. They’re green; I never paid attention before. This really light, interesting, intelligent green—

FUCK, this guy needs to STOP HAVING A FACE.”
― Hannah Johnson, Know Not Why

“He gives me a slight smile. I simultaneously want to, like, build shrines to it and punch it off his face. It’s complicated.”
― Hannah Johnson, Know Not Why