Author has written 1 story for Twilight.
“Trust me. I have your number, I’ll call you if anything comes up.” By if anything comes up, of course I meant I could be feeling the life drain out of me while I was lying in a pool of my own blood with a man ready to torture me for hours and I still would have hesitated to pick up the phone and asking him for help. But he didn’t need to know that.
My love life had always been as exciting as watching paint dry
I figured I was coming down with a cold of some sort when I sneezed for the hundredth time that day, jamming my hand into my bag to look for tissues. I blew loudly, not really giving a shit that people were turning around to look at me. I just gave them a look that clearly said Fuck. You. All.
Why didn’t he just do it already? What the fuck was he waiting for? Death by hard on?
She had a perfunctory ten minutes in the bathroom every morning. Doing whatever the fuck it is girls do in the mornings. Brushing her teeth or hair, or plotting to save baby seals or some shit. Fuck if I know.
The hot shower was just…. Heavenly didn’t even do it justice. It was… Edwardly
Frankly, I thought most sports in general were simply brute, Darwinist forms of testosterone release, only acceptable in a civilized society because crueler and more tortuous forms of “who’s got the biggest phallus” were banned, but I didn’t say any of this.
Initially I heard more bickering. Emmett yelled something about “Pale people deserve rights, too!” More bickering erupted, followed by silence, and then a roar of laughter, and Leah emerged looking as smug as a cat.
“I would have been surprised if you had remembered me. I believe our exchange was limited to ‘Hello, I’m Dr. Cullen, I’ll be your surgeon’ followed by your passing out from the anesthesia.”
Huh. And I thought I’d dreamed of God.
I wanted to die. In fact, I’d do it right now. I was going to find a shovel and dig a nice little grave. I’d even bring my own flowers and everything. Let no one else be bothered.
Oh, hi, Edward. I just diddled my skittle to the vision of your hunky perfection in a geothermal pond. Now, let me chop this carrot…
“Why do you carry one of the little people?” he asked, temporarily forgetting his Slim Jim.
“He’s not a little people. He’s a gnome,” I corrected hm.
“Well, why have you a gnome, Bella?”
“Edward murdered him.”
“He doesn’t look dead.”
“Jacob fixed him.”
Emmett looked very troubled for Emmett.
“Yep, Carlisle tried telling him that if he didn’t stop playing funeral music, he was going to ground him, but then Eddo started playing Christmas tunes… but he played them like an angry, old Mrs. Claus just informed that Santa knocked up that elf slut she’d always suspected. Specifically, he was tone-raping Jingle Bells, and it tripped me out, so I had to leave.”
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
—Henry David Thoreau
It is because of men that women dislike one another.
—Jean de La Bruyère, Characters
"The only difference between friends and lovers is about four minutes."
— Scott Roeben
Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest:
Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers:
Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest,
And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers!
—William S. Gilbert
“And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”
—Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go it's one of the best.
And stop brooding. You don’t look sexy or mysterious. You look constipated.”
She was going to spontaneously combust. Alice would be forced to identify her body, or what was left of it, and explain to Charlie why she had exploded from the mere proximity of Edward Cullen.
Bella didn’t look up, but she rested her chin on her hand as she stared off to the side. "I'm a logical person. Men and women look for certain traits, factors when they choose a person with whom to share their affection. It’s not that different now from the nineteenth century, really. Your looks, your family, your education, your talents and interests, age, weight—they all factor in—as terribly unromantic as that is to say.
If only I could call my blushing at will. Guys were such suckers for a bashful girl.
I’m not a bitch. Well, not out loud, anyway.
Ugh. Definitely better lay off the sauce from now on. I felt like an animal had died right on my tongue. A fuzzy, dirty animal.
He was one of those guys that made you feel like you were naked whenever he thought about you. It wasn’t necessarily a terrible thing, either.
“Well, thongs are very 2001. But the guys always appreciate a thong peeking out over low-backed jeans.”
“I’d just as soon go commando.”
“You do go commando.”
“Emmett gets mad when I wear chonies.”
“That Lothario has wormed his way into my daughter’s mouth. Again! And for that, he must die!” I said firmly.
There was no need to rush this. I wanted things to be perfect with Bella and me. I wanted her to remember the day that she and I finally confess our love to one another.
"Dinner sounds wonderful. What would you like to eat?" Please say me. Please say me. Please say me.