Rayna

“I was curious now, that's for sure.
And I was also terrified.
I mean, that wasn't me. Asexual. Aromantic.
I still wanted to have sex with someone, eventually. Once I found someone I actually liked. Just because I'd never liked anyone didn't mean I never would . . . did it?
And I wanted to fall in love. I really, really did.
I definitely would someday.
So that couldn't be me.
I didn't want that to be me.
Fuck. I didn't know.
I shook my head a little, trying to dispel the hurricane of confusion that was threatening to form inside my brain.”
― Alice Oseman, Loveless

“You could be my entire world,” he whispers in my ear before moving to my collarbone. “If you let me.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Love, Theoretically

“Jesus,” Rome says. “I thought you were a poet.”
“I do sometimes.”
“You do what?”
“Write poetry about you. Because you’re so… you could be so much, I think. If you weren’t—“
Damien sighs. “It helps… to write about you. Sometimes.”
Rome suddenly feels a lot more sober, standing there in the hallway, for all intents and purposes, holding hands with Damien Raphael Bordeaux. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Damien sighs, letting go of his hand. He stumbles a little, and Rome catches him before he can topple back down the stairs.
“Don’t tell, okay?” Damien says, leaning into him. “About the poetry.”
“Don’t tell who?”
“Rome.”
“Okay,” Rome agrees. “I won’t.”
― E.L. Massey, All Hail the Underdogs

“What do you loathe?"
"The way you seem to always get under my skin."
"Elsie." His eyes close for a brief moment. When he opens them, stars are born. "You think you don't live under mine?”
― Ali Hazelwood, Love, Theoretically