Tryst Quotes

When he came back, I hid my face within my hands. He said: "Fear nothing. Who has seen our kiss? --Who saw us? The night and the moon.""And the stars and the first flush of dawn. The moon has seen its visage in the lake, and told it to the water 'neath the willows. The water told it to the rower's oar."And the oar has told it to the boat, and the boat has passed the secret to the fisher. Alas! alas! if that were only all! But the fisher told the secret to a woman."The fisher told the secret to a woman: my father and my mother and my sisters, and all of Hellas now shall know the tale.

Our scars make us who we are. Some scars are just deeper than others.

A wicked curve appears on his lips. “No, you’re wrong. I’m allowed to say whatever I want. What I’m not allowed to do is what I want.

It has been said that art is a tryst; for in the joy of it, maker and beholder meet.

The truth is, I always want to kiss you.

Um, well, I’ve been working out with Alex. Today just happened to be right after our workout,” Craig admits finally.“Really,” I say dripping with sarcasm. “And you failed to mention this earlier? You ran off so abruptly for your tryst. I should’ve suspected something illicit was occurring.”Alex erupts in laughter looking at Craig. “You didn’t tell her.

He tangles his hand in my hair, and the other cups my jaw. Although I have this all planned, his lips feel shockingly sweet, swollen and soft, and more like home every time

I’m glad we can be friends.”There’s that word again. It’s like a safe word.

I mean, aren’t we all tormented by past relationships?

I chew my food, leaning back into the couch. “I loved him. That’s what dumb girls do.”“You aren’t dumb.”I try to hold back my smile. “I’m hanging out with you, aren’t I?

We are all trying to get over the person who broke our hearts. We are all far from perfect.

The way he looks at me makes me ache, but it isn’t fair. He hurt me first. He caused this ache from the start. This inside out, churning pain that feels mental and physical now.I fiddle with my hands, peering up at him again, and all I can think is, God, I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.

Two things compel me to move. First, the fear of being alone. I don’t want to be alone here. Second, the aching need to beat Blake in any way.

I almost feel bad for declining, but I feel more terrible that I can’t stop looking at how his chest rises and falls with each of his frustrated breaths.