Lynn Painter

I have a nerd-level fascination with movie soundtracks.

“If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.”

—Love Actually

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.”

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

Mr. Right—the nice-guy, dependable version—could be waiting around the very next corner.

Which was why I was always at the ready.

It was only a matter of time before it finally happened for me.

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

—10 Things I Hate About You

what if I’d been misreading every little thing between Wes and me to begin with?

That look on her face, what it said? I could relate

I felt a little bad for him because I could totally empathize. Wanting something but being unsure if you’re able to have it?
Or if it’s safe to have? Yeah, I got that.