UNEARTHLY
By CYNTHIA HAND

So I'm in love. That crazy, forget to eat, float around in a daze, talk on the phone all night and bounce out of bed every morning hoping to see him kind of love.

TO ALL THE BOYS I'VE LOVED BEFORE
By JENNY HAN

"Do you think there's a difference? Between belonging with and belonging to, I mean?"
"Sure. One implies choice; the other doesn't."

"What is it with girls and rain?" Peter wonders.
"I don't know . . . I guess maybe because everything feels more dramatic in the rain,"

You are the best-looking boy in our grade, and I agreed, because sure, you are. But I still didn't see the allure of you. Plenty of people are good-looking. That doesn't make them interesting or intriguing or cool.

You're special... I wish more people knew that about you. Or maybe I don't, because sometimes it's nice to be the only one who knows something.

THE WAY IT HAPPENS IS a strange sort of serendipity. A slow-motion train wreck. For something to go this colossally wrong, everything must intersect and collide at the exact right, or in this case, wrong, moment.

LOVE & LEFTOVERS
By SARAH TREGAY

"Selfish isn't a bad word. It means 'looking out for your own interests.' And, for how crazy life gets sometimes, that's a good policy."

My heart says it's in love. But it didn't feel like that jolt before falling asleep or like spring time on the moon. It felt like my heart had something to say, and all I had to do was listen.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPY LOOKS LIKE
By JENNIFER E. SMITH

From: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, June 8, 2013 1:18 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: what happy looks like

Sunrises over the harbor. Ice cream on a hot day. The sound of the waves down the street. The way my dog curls up next to me on the couch. Evening strolls. Great movies. Thunderstorms. A good cheeseburger. Fridays. Saturdays. Wednesdays, even. Sticking your toes in the water. Pajama pants. Flip-flops. Swimming. Poetry. The absence of smiley faces in an e-mail.

THE STATISTICAL PROBABILITY OF LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
By JENNIFER E. SMITH

She's four minutes late, which doesn't seem like all that much when you think about it; it's a commercial break, the period between classes, the time it takes to cook a microwave meal. Four minutes is nothing.

Is it possible not to ever know your type—not to even know you have a type—until quite suddenly you do?

AIRPORT
"I like how you're neither here nor there. And how there's nowhere else you're meant to be while waiting. You're just sort of... suspended."

She waits... it seems like the natural progression of conversation for two people with nowhere to go and hours to spare.

She couldn't ignore the disjointed sensation that they were now two different pieces of two different puzzles, and nothing in the world could make them fit together again.

Because as far as she was concerned, there was no in-between: She wanted all or nothing, illogically, irrationally,

It's something about the way he's looking at her, his eyes punching a neat little hole in her heart. She's knows it's not real: It's the illusion of closeness, the false confidence of a hushed and darkened plane, but she doesn't mind. For the moment, at least, it feels real.

He's like a song she can't get out of her head. Hard as she tries, the melody of their meeting runs through her mind on an endless loop, each time as surprisingly sweet as the last, like a lullaby, like a hymn, and she doesn't think she could ever get tired of hearing it.

After all, it's one thing to run away when someone's chasing you.
It's entirely another to be running all alone.

To say that the trip was a blur suggests that she could recall at least some of it, no matter how fuzzy, but when she finally steps out into the sunlight again at the Kensington stop, she's struck by the uncomfortable sensation of having skipped through time like a stone.

Because what had once seemed funny now seems just a little bit sad; even in this—this smallest of gestures, this silliest of nicknames—there's a sort of distance.

"That's the way these things work, kiddo," he says. "Love isn't supposed to make sense. It's completely illogical."

There's a star in the sky that refuses to stay put, and Hadley realizes it's actually a plane, that just last night, that star was them.

"The statistical probability of love at first sight."

"People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else."

"Did you know that people who meet at least three different times within a twenty-four hour period are ninety-eight percent more likely to meet again?"

GOSSIP GIRL

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

He suddenly remembered learning about catalyst reactions in his high school chemistry class. One random chemical could change everything between two otherwise normal chemicals. It all made sense. He was a fucking catalyst.

Blair settled back into bed, loving how she could say whatever she wanted—be whoever she wanted—in front of her two oldest friends. She hoped no matter what happened, it could always be that way.

For once, she just wanted to go with the wind, do what she felt like.

We're more alike than we think. We've all had to deal with broken hearts, crazy roommates, messed-up parents, disappointing grades, and all those other less-than-ideal details that make life complicated, infuriating, and, admit it, interesting. So, in the spirit of growing up, hug that girl who made your high school career a living hell. Forgive that boy who dumped you without warning, only to date your best friend. Not only will you keep your enemies close, you may even make a new friend. Let's all make nice for now, and who knows what tomorrow will bring? One thing's for sure: I'll be there when it happens. Here's to a wild and wicked future.

SO MUCH CLOSER
By SUSANE COLASANTI

One of the most amazing things that can happen is finding someone who sees everything you are and won't let you be anything less. They see the potential of you. They see endless possibilities. And through their eyes, you start to see yourself the same way. As someone who matters. As someone who can make a difference in this world.
If you're lucky enough to find that person, never let them go.

When forces beyond your control take over, they make you do stupid things. Or crazy things, like the way love was making me twist my whole life around.

People destroy your trust. Then they leave.

You can never completely know anyone, no matter how well you think you do. There will always be parts of their lives they leave out. There will always be some truth about them you don't ever get to know.

Or maybe one day you'll find out their truth. And you'll wish you never had.

The stupid thing about anger is how people hurt you and then you let them keep hurting you by being angry about how they originally hurt you. It's a vicious cycle.

we either learned things that were incorrect or we're remembering things the wrong way.

It's weird what love can make you do. You do these crazy things before you can even recognize yourself.

Just when it seems like life is getting good, something always has to come along and ruin it.

"It's usually when you're wishing things would change the most that something gets in your way."

"Here's a flash: the world isn't black and white. There are shades of gray. You should try being more compassionate sometime."

"How is force-feeding us stuff that we don't care about making us smarter?

It's unbelievable how you can affect someone else so deeply and never know.

Sometimes you just need room to appreciate what you have.

ASK AGAIN LATER

Sometimes, it's the small victories that keep a person going.

"Why do you stay with him if you don't like the way he is?"
She sighed. "I love him. Don't ask me to explain."
"But why?" I felt disloyal, considering he was family, but I had to know.
Tara leaned against the wall beside me, looking out at the shadows of the trees in the side yard. "Because there's another side to him. And that side's pretty great."

Time has a funny way of bending and stretching. Sit in a boring class and the minutes tick by so slowly you can watch your life draining out the door. But sit in the waiting room at the dentist and fifteen minutes will be gone before you can catch a deep breath.