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126 pages, ebook
First published February 25, 2017
"If I could undo your kisses
If I could un-feel your touch
If I could unhook this heart from yours I would.
But I’m trapped in the memory of what we were
Stuck with the reality of what we are
Tempted with the promise of a future
Afraid of possibility
I don’t know how our story ends, but this—this is where it started."
"...my heart is a scale out of balance, with my end taking all the weight."
"And I know. In this moment, I know that I’m lost to him. It has been a matter of days. It has been a string of moments. It has not been long enough to tell him, but in my heart, I know I am lost."
"The inches between our lips disappear. At the first brush of his mouth on mine, I know this kiss will never end. It will live on in my memory for the rest of my life."
"At the top of the world, so close we could almost touch the sky and with only the stars watching, I found out what a kiss should be."
"Her fingers on my skin are poetry. Her lips, prose. The rhythm of her heart against mine, iambic. Every touch, eloquence."
“I don’t care what color a girl is. I like the color of smart, the shade of funny, and sexy is my favorite hue.�
“At the top of the world, so close we could almost touch the sky and with only the stars watching, I found out what a kiss should be.�
“I don’t care what color a girl is. I like the color of smart, the shade of funny, and sexy is my favorite hue.�
“So you rap. Like hoes, bitches, and bling?� � Bitch
“At least you’re open minded about it,� � Grip
“Okay. I admit I don’t listen to much hip-hop. So convince me there’s more to it.� � Bitch
“And it’s my responsibility to convince you. . . why?� � Grip
“So you rap. Like hoes, bitches, and bling? � Bitch
“Not unless I’m talking about you.� � Pretty Mess Reading
“Okay. I admit I don’t listen to much hip-hop. So convince me there’s more to it.� � Bitch
“Convince you? You have life all the way fucked up with that question. Girl. . . bye!� � Pretty Mess Reading
“Wow. She can back those tits up, huh?� � Bitch
“…I think you have one criticizing hip-hop for its misogyny and then hating on another woman just because she has a great rack. Is it any worse when men judge women’s worth by their looks than when women do it?� � Grip
“I wasn’t judging her. Okay, maybe I was judging her a little bit. She’s a pretty girl, and sometimes they get a bad rap.� � Bitch
“I believe you. I’m just saying there’s a lot more to Jimmi, too…maybe you should withhold judgement until you know her better. If not altogether.� –Grip
“Wow. She can back those tits up, huh?� –Bitch
“Yeah, she sure can and she looks good doing it. You have a thing for criticizing people and things that you don’t know about.� –Pretty Mess Reading
“I wasn’t judging her. Okay, maybe I was judging her a little bit. She’s a pretty girl, and sometimes they get a bad rap.� –Bitch
“Do they now? Maybe if people like you would spend a bit more time getting to know someone you would find out she’s more that a pair of tits and a pretty face. You would be beautiful if you weren’t such a ignorant bitch.� –Pretty Mess Reading
"My eyes do the slow crawl from the girl’s hot pink toenails in her wedge heels, over the skimpy cut-off denim shorts and the bikini top, which barely bridles her breasts. Bright blue eyes and blonde hair complete the California package. If all the girls look like this, and a quick glance around Mick’s dining room tells me a lot of them do, I may reconsider my secret plan to move here when I graduate."
“I wasn’t judging her.� His look and the twist of his lips say otherwise.
“Okay, maybe I was judging her a little bit.� I laugh and am glad when he laughs, too. “She’s a pretty girl, and sometimes they get a bad rap.�
"I sigh and nod my head out to the hall. “Look, we better get going.�
“What’s the hurry? Rhyson’s at the studio and Grady’s at his retreat all week. Just an empty house waiting for us.�
“I’m ready to go. I have better things to do than give a perfect stranger a grand tour of my place when I need to be working.�
“I don’t know if I can do that shit again, Bris. It takes so much, and I only got through it with the drugs. I don’t want to create a situation where I need those again. If there was one thing I learned when I kicked the habit, it was that I have an addictive personality. Music is the only thing I need to be addicted to.�
"I know it’s farfetched. I know it’s irrational to stake my entire college career, my future, on the dreams Rhyson isn’t even dreaming, but to hear Grip affirm my lunacy chafes."
“Don’t you have any dreams of your own?� he asks."
I look at her, cataloging her features one by one and realizing the most fascinating thing about this girl isn’t visible to the naked eye.
I don’t know what she wants or what I am to her. Is she slumming? Am I some exotic fruit or a novelty she sampled on vacation? Or does this feel to her like it feels to me? Like the beginning of something.
We both gave each other space to be misunderstood, because we really wanted to understand.
“I like the color of smart, the shade of funny, and sexy is my favorite hue.�
“What color are you?� he repeats, his eyes never leaving my face. “You, Bristol, are a freaking prism.�
first of all, ah, ehm, � *clears throat* did you see that?? did you see me MELT?? this guy really knows how to work his lines. oh, and how about this,
“Her fingers on my skin are poetry. Her lips, prose. The rhythm of her heart against mine, iambic. Every touch, eloquence.�
ladies, as hard as i try to keep my cool, im nothing but a puddle of goo.
“At the top of the world, so close we could almost touch the sky and with only the stars watching, I found out what a kiss should be.�
second of all, this book had one of my favorite cliches (ferris wheel rides on a funfair date) nailed to a perfection.
“We both gave each other space to be misunderstood, because we really wanted to understand.�
third, i loved that this short novella was full of meaningful and eye opening conversations about rap music and many insights on what its like to be a black man in America and other race related topics.
“You come back to me, okay?� he whispers in my ear. “Slow doesn’t mean stop, right?�
“No, slow doesn’t mean stop,� I agree.
“So what color am I then?� I ask before thinking better of it. He’ll probably just say I’m white, obviously.
“What color are you?� he repeats, his eyes never leaving my face. “You, Bristol, are a freaking prism.�
“We both gave each other space to be misunderstood, because we really wanted to understand.�