If I could do it all over again, I'd probably still leave. Except, this time, I would hold you closer, tighter, longer. I would kiss you a thousand more times, tell you I love you ten thousand more times, have sex with you one million more times. I didn't get it right the first time when you were mine. If I could it all over again, I would value your trust, stand by your actions, and never take score...even though I'm totally winning. So if you can just find it in your heart to shut the hell up and love me, I swear with every fiber of my being that I will spend every possible minute loving you." A smile that flirts with cruelty lifts on his mouth. "Your move. I'm wearing to many clothes.

Sometimes you get this look in your eyes, like you've just realized I'm edible.""Well, I like looking at you." He angles his head. "Do you know what else I like? I like your thoughts, your imperfections, your lips, your sarcasm, your explosions of anger, your intelligence, your strength of character. I like it all.

We don't lie to protect the other person. We lie to protect ourselves from the consequences. We lie because we don't want to deal with our own feelings. We lie because we don't want things to change. Not by our hand. So a wall starts to build.

Everything about you fascinates me, Sophie. The smell of your skin. The sound of your voice. Your long legs. Your sense of humor. Your personality. You don’t seem to need me, and if you don’t need me, it is much more gratifying that you want me.

What are you doing, Sophie?”“What do you think I’m doing?”“Do you want to leave? Is that it? You want to run away from everything? You want to hide and pretend like it’s not happening? You never let up in that department, do you?”“You don’t understand, Oliver, and I’m not going to explain it to you.”“Yeah, well, go ahead, if this is what you want then leave. Leave me. But know that if you leave and anything happens to you, I will lose myself. You hear me? I will lose myself.”“What about me? I’ve lost myself already.”“I’ll bring you back. This is your home. Whatever it takes, I’m here. Look at me. I’m here. I want to be with you. Don’t keep me away. Not now.

You think I don’t know what I want? You think I love the idea of relying on my looks for life? No! It’s pathetic! In my head, I have a nice, quiet, normal job that involves me running my own business. I carry a briefcase around my office with important documents, I have a nice assistant who calls me boss, and people ask me questions—they ask for my advice because I matter! I’m important to them! I’m recognized as something more than a pretty face and a pair of legs. I have a brain and interests and thoughts about religion, and poverty, and economics. I’m not a miserable girl with a number attached to her chest, stripping her clothes off in a room full of people.

Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? I don’t do games. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t do affairs. Usually, when I meet a woman and take interest in her, I will be loyal to her, and only her. I expect the same. I don’t share well. I’m all for exclusiveness in everything I do, and own. I’m not afraid of commitment or hard work. You’re right; I’m not new to this. I’ve been in many relationships. This is good news, Sophie. It means I won’t waste your time. Rest assured, if I’m with you it’s because that’s exactly where I want to be. If ever I want out of a relationship, I leave. My commitment ends there. It’s simple enough and this is the only thing that makes sense to me.

Come on, Oliver. I’m saying no.”“Is it a fake no? Because your body keeps saying yes.”“My body doesn’t know anything.”“What does your heart say?”“That’s number one on my list of unenlightened organs. It believes anything it hears. It’s screwed up in some way.

He terrifies me, Aunt Peg.” I don’t have the backbone to say it to her face. “Oliver is such a self-contained person. He’s always so calm, so at ease, so refined. I’m the one who’s always losing my mind over nothing. He is unbelievably amazing in a way I don’t know if I can reciprocate. His voice is calm and patient. It makes me feel like he will sit me down and tell me everything’s going to be okay. And his eyes. Have you seen his eyes? They’re so kind and gentle.

Okay, you have to understand I was drunk.”“So?”“So don’t believe anything I said.”“What about now?”“I don’t know. I don’t trust myself around you. Talking to you is like drinking tequila. One minute I’m in control, and the next I’m—”He holds me hard against him, then he claims my lips, brutally, violently, the way I was secretly hoping he would. And I kiss him back with so much force it nearly knocks all air from my lungs.

I can talk to you about my past, Oliver, not to make you pity me or make myself look weak for attention, but to let you know who I was and what happened. What made me cry. What gave me nightmares. I prefer to hide. In fact, I may have even masked the version you know of myself. I can show you my trophy room, gladly. But…I’m afraid to open the door hiding what makes me vulnerable and imperfect.

All right. Let’s pretend I’m so incredibly happy my brain is thinking about rainbows and butterflies and I’m waving good morning to the mailman. I let my guard down. Next thing I know, something takes a dark turn. But I don’t even realize it because I’m over here staring at a bright patch of happy light. All of a sudden, I’ve fallen into a hole and have no rope, no ladder, and the walls are too slippery to climb out of. Happiness makes me lose focus. It makes me weak. I can’t stand it. Does that make sense to you now?

We’re just…,” those blue eyes blaze at me and steal my breath, drawing me in, “just different people on different paths.”He comes closer, until he’s standing a centimeter away from me. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me,” he dares.“Jesus. Are you really that confident?”“I’m really that interested.

Because you decided I couldn't take it!" I shout. "You kept the truth from me because you thought I couldn't handle it. You were so wrong! I can take it straight up! That's what hurts me the most. I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be treated like a glass house. It's humiliating and it just pisses me off that you pretend like I'm not strong. I get that you're a man...you feel the need to protect me. I get that you're afraid and my strength feels dangerous to you. And you know what? It should feel that way, because it is. It's power.