Better Than the Movies

I have a nerd-level fascination with movie soundtracks.

that soap or deodorant?”

His big hand landed on the shifter, and his eyebrows crinkled when he looked over at me. “Pardon?”

“You smell really good, but it isn’t your usual scent.”

He didn’t put the car in drive but instead just looked at me. “My usual scent?”

“Don’t act like I’m weird. Your normal cologne is kind of, like, piney, but tonight you smell more… I don’t know… spicy.” The image of him shirtless and putting on deodorant popped into my head, and I cleared my throat, sending it away.

His voice was deep and kind of rumbly as he gave a throaty chuckle. “Holy shit, Liz Buxbaum knows my scent.”

He looked at me and shrugged like that explained everything.

“But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

Just because she likes the same bizarro crap you do doesn’t mean she’s your soul mate.”

—500 Days of Summer

I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

—Notting Hill

Wes held out his hand, and when I grabbed it and climbed out of the car, he didn’t let go. Instead he laced his long fingers between mine, without looking at me, and led me over to his dad’s car in the pouring rain.

prom was supposed to be the pinnacle of high school romance. It was supposed to be poster-board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you look in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball.

his dark eyes—surrounded by mile-long thick lashes because life wasn’t fair—spoke volumes, even when his mouth said nothing.

My inheritance was the knowledge that love is always in the air, always a possibility, and always worth it.