Status Updates From Only in Your Dreams (The Mo...

even my dreams couldn’t come up with this, sweetheart.

HES PROPOSING THROUGH BOOK TITLES

finley, i know you don’t believe this yet, but i think you’re worth staying for.

you don’t need to compliment me. i told you: just being with you—the real you—makes me feel like magic, like someone special. like someone’s most important person.

i don’t plan to need those anymore. waking up with you beside me is more than enough to assure me that all my dreams have come true.

and i think i know what he’s saying but not saying. that’s way too soon to say. but i feel it too. that maybe we could be each other’s home, that we feel like home for one another.

something that will never not be weird about breakups is that although you aren’t with that person anymore, you never stop knowing their tells. you never stop knowing how to read them. you can never unlearn them, even though they’re not yours anymore.

don’t you see how much pressure that is? to know that everyone expects great things of you, that they have unwavering faith in your abilities? it makes failing feel even worse.

it’s the kind of desire you feel to know someone, to want to memorize them. to know them better than anyone else and be their person, the first one they call when they get good news or bad. the one they want to celebrate with and share their secrets with and hold on to when their world is falling apart.

so you’re saying you liked my dress so much you got it tattooed on you?
it wasn’t the dress, fin. it was you.

i want to consume him. i want him to feel loved and wanted for the first time in this house. i want him to feel like he matters to someone. i want him to feel how i feel right now—cherished, important, necessary, desired.

“and blond is your favorite?” he nods, his lips sliding against the sensitive skin of my neck, making goose bumps prick along my skin. “and if i were a brunette?” “then brunette would be my favorite.”

and if i asked you now?
don’t ask me, finley. my self control is holding on by a thread.

this whole scene is so fun i love a fairground plot

stunning in all the imperfections, the way art that’s flawed and rough around the edges tends to be the most treasured.

i’m your boyfriend, remember?
in name only.
i don’t know, fin. this doesn’t feel like in name only.

he bought her books 😭😭

there’s something about reading books that are guaranteed to end in a happily ever after. sure, they’re sometimes over-the-top or unrealistic, but for a romantic like me, they’re hopeful. everyone always gets what they’re looking for, or at least what they didn’t know they needed. everyone gets their happy ending. everyone is enough.

there’s only one woman i’ve ever wanted in fontana ridge, finley.