Becky Albertalli

swear to God, that kid will whore himself out completely for a cheap laugh.

She’s quiet for several seconds, and then: “I don’t have a right to be mad.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is your thing, Simon.”

“But you’re entitled to your emotions,”

I smile back. “I’m one of the cute guys who gets you tongue-tied?”

He squeezes the steering wheel.

“You’re the cute guy.”

I could do it again, I would have blackmailed you into being my friend and left it at that.

I don’t entirely understand how anyone gets a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It just seems like the most impossible odds. You have to have a crush on the exact right person at the exact right moment. And they have to like you back. A perfect alignment of feelings and circumstances. It’s almost unfathomable that it happens as often as it does.

maybe I should let my heart break, just to prove that my heart can take it.

maybe I should let my heart break, just to prove that my heart can take it.

It’s that feeling of someone knowing you in all the ways you needed to be known.

We talk about the things we like, rather than the things we are.

there’s this awfulness that comes when a guy thinks you like him. It’s as if he’s fully clothed and you’re naked in front of him. It’s like your heart suddenly lives outside your body, and whenever he wants, he can reach out and squeeze it.