If "Maybe Someday" by Colleen Hoover is my all time favorite, all time No.1, all time on top, THIS book comes in second. I mean by my preference, yes.
I am not comparing. AND there is no inferiority. I'm just trying to tell you how awesome this book is.
The plot is not impossible but could be consider as rare occasion. Really, because working towards our dreams could not be that easy.
This is the story of Matt and Grace. Matt's dad is rich with separate parents, love his mother dearly who was left by his dad. Grace, she was struggling. She got big family. She was on her own, she is 18 and she's already on her own.
They met.
They become friends.
Then, they feel more than just friends for each other.
Without knowing Matt got rich Dad, she loved him. She'd become the precious thing he found from his viewfinder. (yes, Matt wants to be a pro photographer.)
Not knowing what she felt for him, he acts possessive around her. He'd support her anonymously. To become a cellist was her dream.
“The large box I had brought contained some of my favorite records, books, CDs, and photos. My best work from USC was matted inside a leather portfolio. Grace immediately grabbed it and began flipping through the pages. There were two long, narrow windows that bathed the room in sunlight, illuminating Grace’s face perfectly. It was as if the light was coming from her.
“Wow, this one is amazing. Is this your girlfriend?” She held up a photo of a gorgeous girl with devilish eyes, the curve of her naked body exposed.
“No, she wasn’t my girlfriend. Just a friend.” This was true, but it was also true that she had mouthed Do you want to fuck me? right before I snapped the photo while my friend—and her boyfriend—watched us silently. Like I said, USC wasn’t my scene.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Well, it’s a great photo.”
“Thanks. The light in here is fantastic. Maybe I can take a couple of you?”
I saw her neck move as she swallowed. Her eyes widened and I realized she thought I wanted to photograph her naked. “Um, with your clothes on, of course.”
Her expression lightened. “Sure, I’d be happy to.” She continued to stare at the photograph.
“But I think I could model for you like this girl, if it’s done like this.” She turned her green eyes on me. “Maybe someday, after we’ve known each other for a while. You know, for the sake of art?” She smirked.
I tried not to picture her naked. “Yeah, for the sake of art.” And a work of art she was. She wore a man’s white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, with the top two buttons open. Her pink toenails caught my eye before my gaze moved up to the skin peeking out from a hole in the knee of her jeans. I watched as she began to braid her long blonde hair over her shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her and she noticed, but instead of saying something rude she just smiled.”
They were made for each other!!!!! They are what every couple wants to be !!!!
K, let's just see another piece.
“It was coat weather, and as I watched him from across the street, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack, I thought I could see him shivering.
My heart skipped a beat; I swallowed. He smiled and I couldn’t help but return it, even though I wanted to ask him a million questions I knew I couldn’t. It was his life and we were friends. When it was time to cross, we walked toward each other and stopped in the middle of crosswalk.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
“Dinner.”
His eyes flitted down my body and back up to my eyes. In the three months I had known him, I had rarely worn anything nicer than sweats and ChapStick. There was a longing in his expression. “Let me walk you.” His teeth chattered, drawing my eyes to his full lips and unshaven jawline. I wanted to rub my face against them.
The light was about to turn, and we had to get out of the middle of the street. “You’re freezing, Matt. Just go home, I’ll be fine.”
We hurried across the street, shoulder to shoulder.”
“Where are you going to dinner?”
“The Thai place around the corner.”
His hands were deep in his pockets and his arms were pressed tight against his body. “I can walk you.”
“I don’t need you to walk me two blocks, Matt. I’m fine.”
A subtle grimace flashed on his face and then he took a step toward me, reached his hand out, and caressed my cheek, our bodies inches apart. He released a weak, frustrated breath. “Who’s taking you to dinner? . . . Grace?”
I peeked over Matt’s shoulder and saw Dan standing there, an inscrutable look on his face. Matt turned around and then turned back to me, his eyebrows arched. “Pornsake?” I didn’t like the humor in his tone.
I pushed him away. “Fuck you, Matt. I’m sure you can find something else to do. Isn’t there some big darkroom orgy you need to attend?”
“What?”
“I can smell rum on your breath.”
“So what? I had a shot with my photo buddies. I was coming home to see if you wanted to hang out.”
“I can’t. I have plans. Bye, Matt.” I turned around and didn’t look back.”
When the ideal couple is having a falling out T_T
But no, that is not how they go separated. They met 10 years or so after (This wasn't the spoiler)
I don't know what makes you rate the book but for me, it's choice of words and writing. Also obviously cox of storyline. But this could be as any other love story, but not the sequencing of events or the writing.
The past doesn’t belong to us anymore, and the future is just a fantasy, never guaranteed. But the present is ours to own. The only way we can realize that fantasy is if we embrace the now.
We were victims of bad timing. But here we are again.
And in that moment, you realize how little control you have over your own destiny. From the time you're born, you have no control; you can't choose your parents, and, unless you're suicidal, you can't choose your death. The only thing you can do is choose the person you love, be kind to others, and make your brutally short stint on earth as pleasant as possible.
Poetry is just evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
You can’t re-create the first time you promise to love someone or the first time you feel loved by another. You cannot relive the sensation of fear, admiration, self-consciousness, passion, and desire all mixed into one because it never happens twice. You chase it like the first high for the rest of your life. It doesn’t mean you can’t love another or move on; it just means that the one spontaneous moment, the split second that you took the leap, when your heart was racing and your mind was muddled with What ifs?—that moment—will never happen the same way again. It will never feel as intense as the first time. At least, that’s the way I remember it. That’s why my mother always said we memorialize our past. Everything seems better in a memory.
I felt it for Grace before I even had a name for it. I might have said the word a million times, but it sounded different now that I meant it. When I thought about what we had, it didn’t matter that it was just friendship. I loved her.
WORTH EVERY SECOND! I PROMISE !!!
