Quotes from Jenny Han

You guys are sadistic.

For someone who's over Genevieve, he sure does talk about her a lot. Though it's not just him. I was thinking about her too. Even when she's not here, she's here. That girl has some kind of reach.

I just needed to be on the beach. The beach would make me feel better. Nothing, nothing felt better than the way sand felt beneath my feet. It was both solid and shifting, constant and ever-changing. It was summer.

I know it was just a day in the life of Peter for you, but for me it meant a lot more, and that's what scared me.

This is our life; there's no use in asking what if. No one could ever give you the answers. I try, I really do, but it's hard for me to accept this way of thinking. I'm always wondering about the what-ifs, about the road not taken.

Kashi cereal.

Do you remember that time we played spin the bottle in my basement?" I nod. "I was nervous to kiss you, because I'd never kissed a girl before," he says, and picks up the glass of sweet tea again. He takes a swig, but there's no tea left, just ice. His eyes meet mine, and he grins. "All the guys gave me such a hard time afterward for whiffing it." "You didn't whiff it," I say.

You looked cute in your sweater, by the way. I'm not saying that to butter you up. I mean it.

I didn't know it, but now that I think about, it seems like that's all I've ever wanted. To really be somebody's, and to have them be mine.

You could become friends again, after some time has passed.' But it wouldn't be the same, I know that. You'd always be mourning what once was. It would always be a little bit less.

He's a douche. I'm sorry, but he is. All the guys on the lacrosse team are. Guys like Kavinsky, they only care about one thing. As soon as they get what they want, they're bored.

Sometimes I like you so much I can't stand it. It fills up inside me, all the way to the brim, and I feel like I could overflow. I like you so much I don't know what to do with it. My heart beats so fast when I know I'm going to see you again. And then, when you look at me the way you do, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

You gave me my first love story, Peter. Please just don't let it be over yet.

So what would you have asked for if you won?" He doesn't hesitate even one beat. "Your peanut butter chocolate cake with my name written in Reese's Pieces." I stare at him in surprise. That's what he would have wished for? He could have anything and he wants my cake? I give him a curtsy. "I'm so honored." "Well, it was a really good cake," he says.

My mother and Susannah's friendship had spanned decades and children and husbands. I wondered if Taylor's and my friendship was made of the same stuff as theirs. Durable, impenetrable stuff. Somehow I doubted it. What they had, it was once-in-a-lifetime.

We were still figuring out how to be in each other's lives without being everything to each other.

In French class, I hear Emily Nussbaum whisper to Genevieve, "If it turns out she's preggo, do you think Kavinsky will pay for the abortion?" Genevieve whispers back, "No way. He's too cheap. Maybe half." And everyone laughs. My face burns in mortification. I want to scream at them, We didn't have sex! We are brisket!

Summer was what mattered. My whole life was measured in summers. Like I don't really begin living until June, until I'm at that beach, in that house.

That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore.

We're you and me. And yeah, it's gonna be hard. But Lara Jean, I'll never feel for another girl what I feel for you." He says it with all the certainty only a teenage boy can have, and I have never loved him more than at this very moment.

I had to watch a YouTube video multiple times to figure it out and it still looks lopsided and sad.

Y hagas lo que hagas, por mucho que lo intentes, no puedes dejar de soñar.

We broke so easily. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. Does that mean it was never meant to be in the first place? That we were an accident of fate? If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away just like that? I guess the answer is, we weren't.

I'm somewhere else entirely, thinking about my letter to Peter, wondering if it was heartfelt enough, and how and when I'm going to give it to him, and what he'll say, and what it will mean.