Jenna Evans Welch

You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.

I hang out with you because I like to. You’re . . . different.”
“Different?”
“You know, like we talked about last night. We’re alike, you know?”

Suddenly I couldn’t hear his excuses anymore, only the hard truths. I’d spent nine months lying to my friends. I’d strained ties with my family. I’d completely changed my life to be closer to him, and our relationship had never been to him what it was to me. I had the fleeting thought that I could talk him out of it—tell him that I’d figured out a way to stay in Florence even longer—but even in that brief moment of denial I knew it was useless. When someone walks out of a relationship, there’s nothing you can do to keep them there.

“What was my mom like? When she was here?”
Petrucione smiled. “Like an exclamation mark in human form. I’d never seen anyone so excited to be doing what they were doing. This school is very selective, but even so we’ll occasionally have a floater slip through—that’s what we call students who are kind of lukewarm but have enough natural talent to get accepted. Your mother wasn’t like that. She was full of talent—drenched in it, really—but that’s only one part of the equation. You have to be talented and driven. I think she could have been successful by her drive alone.”

Does it count as a lie if you’re denying something you’ve only fully admitted to yourself for about a minute?

I thought I wanted caprice and fire, but it turns out that what I really want is someone who will wake me up early so I don’t miss a sunrise.

“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re smart and funny, and really easy to be around, and you’re basically the one person I’ve met since my mom died who I don’t feel like I have to act fake around. And I’m really, really sorry about what happened in Rome. Kissing you wasn’t fair because you have a girlfriend . . . or had a girlfriend . . .” I looked at him, hoping he’d clarify, but he didn’t say anything.
“Anyway. I didn’t know right until that moment how I felt about you, but I should have just told you instead of basically jumping on you. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I really like you. A lot. But if you don’t feel the same way about me, it’s okay. Because you’re really important to me, and I hope we can still be friends.”

Turns out there’s a reason they call it falling in love, because when it happens—really happens—that’s exactly how it feels. There’s no doing or trying, you just let go and hope that someone’s going to be there to catch you. Otherwise, you’re going to end up with some pretty hefty bruises.

d awful that they chew up

Cosa fai stasera?”