que sera, sera...

And she kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips.

And she kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, but I can’t imagine a situation in which I don’t think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Lucy turned her head just slightly toward him. “Even when I wake up after a sleepless night and my hair looks like a small animal made a nest in it?” “I’m sure I’ll love that bedhead look of yours.  Especially if I was the cause for the sleeplessness.” He whispered the last part into her ear and then started kissing down the column of her neck. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. “Okay. What if we’re out on a hike, and I fall into a big mud puddle and tear my pants?” “Still beautiful,” he mumbled into her collar bone as he continued to kiss her. “What if I have a stomach bug, and I’m pale and sweaty and have spent hours bowing to the porcelain throne?” “Then I sit there with you and hold back your hair.  I’ll wash off your face and cool you off with a soft washcloth.  And you’ll still be beautiful.”  He had reached her shoulder and then started kissing back toward her neck. “What if I’ve had a rough day at work, and I come home covered in scrapes and bruises?” “Come home?” he repeated in a whisper right in her ear. “If you’re coming home to me, then I’ll be the luckiest guy in the world.  I’ll kiss every scrape or bruise, and you’ll still be the prettiest woman I’ve ever met.”

I love you. I love you. I love you. But she doesn’t say it. The words have been on the tip of her tongue for weeks, months now. But actually saying them out loud is still terrifying. He’ll be the first and only guy she’ll ever say those words to. She wants to say them, but they remain lodged in her throat for another day. So instead, she looks up at him, stands on her tiptoes as the hand that had been resting on his back moves up to cradle the back of his head, and presses her lips to his, trying to pour everything she’s feeling into that kiss.

TAYLOR SWIFT Lyric parallels in The Tortured Poets Department!

They didn’t always go to bed together, but they always woke up together. And as much as Lucy loved the nights that they went to bed together, the middle of the night wakes up always held a special place in her heart. She loved the feeling of comfort and would breathe a sigh of relief when she would hear the door open and Tim would enter, trying to be as quiet as possible. She’d smile softly upon feeling him enter their bed and wrap his arms around her as he buried his head against her neck, breathing her in and finally reuniting with her after a long day apart. He’d kiss her shoulder softly and remind her how much he loved her. And Lucy would lay there in his arms and close her eyes knowing, without a doubt, she was loved.

"And I want you to know that I've never been more serious about anything in my life than I am about being with you."

“I broke up with Chris.” “What?” He said confusingly. He thought they were happy. “You can’t expect me to get that voicemail and pretend like there isn’t something going on between us.” She said as if it was the simplest thing she’d ever said.

He hears Angela say something about getting Lucy’s things, and as much as it pains him to delay things any further, he detours toward the locker rooms. He knows firsthand how the cold sterility of the hospital somehow manages to compound whatever you’re going through, and how something as simple as a familiar sweatshirt can make all the difference.

To: Angela Lopez From: Tim Bradford She deserves the whole world, Angela, and I can’t give it to her. I’ll only poison her. I won’t hold her back anymore. I’m a dead weight around her shoulders, so I’m taking myself out of the equation.  He wonders for a moment if he should take himself out of every equation, but tables that thought for later.  All he wants to do right now is get drunk and try to forget that he just ruined the very best part of his life.

Lucy created these women and she’s beginning to believe that she can recreate herself.