"Just friends" huh?

Well "just friends" don't steal secret glances at each other. "Just friends" don't get jealous when the other talks about someone else. "Just friends" don't get butterfly's from each other. Just friends don't hold each other like that.

"Juste amis" hein?

Eh bien "juste amis" ne volent pas les regards secrets de l'autre. "Juste amis" ne deviennent pas jaloux quand l'autre parle de quelqu'un d'autre. "Juste amis" n'ont pas de papillons venant de l'un et de l'autre. Just amis ne se tiennent pas l'un et l'autre comme ça.

“Miss Amelia Hayes, welcome to the Land of Dreams!”

　The boy grinned at me and motioned me into the same tiny room I’d been interviewed in.

　“I’ll leave you to it then,” said the manager, and she closed the door.

　The boy and I regarded each other for a moment. I judged him to be about twenty. His features were unremarkable, but his face was open, immediately warm and engaging; he seemed to twinkle.

　“I,” he said, “am Chris, your friendly staff trainer. You’ll be with me for three four-hour shifts. I will call you Grasshopper and you will call me Sensei, and I will share with you what I know. Right?”

　“Okay.” I smiled. It was hard not to.

　“Now,” he said, fumbling in his pants pocket. “Where’s your …? Got it.” He pulled out a name badge that said TRAINEE. “This baby is yours for three days, and after that, if you play your cards right, you’ll get your very own to love and cherish for all your days.”

And, of course, talking to girls. Grown-up girls at university. Girls who can go drinking with him after class. Girls his own age who he could confidently introduce to his family and friends. Girls who know how to dress and wear make-up. Girls who have had sex. Girls who study the same texts as him. Girls who stand a chance in hell

“Listen, Youngster,” he says. “Men are bastards. You can’t trust any of them. No matter how genuine they seem”

"I don’t watch horror movies.” I mean it. Not ever. They make me scared. Scared of being alone in the house. Scared of being alone upstairs at night. Scared of walking home from work in the dark. Penny can watch scary movies and be completely unaffected. She can watch The Silence of the Lambs in bed and then fall sweetly asleep. I didn’t sleep for a week after we watched it last year. Never again.

I an jealous of her family: her parents, sisters, uncles, aunts and cousins, who see her all the time, who get to celebrate with her every Christmas and birthday. I am jealous of all her mates, who get to go for walks on the beach with her after class, who play soccer with her on Sundays, who drink with her at the session afterward, who come over to watch campy movies every Monday night. I'm jealous of the bus drivers whom she buys tickets off, for their moment of proximity when she dips her bus ticket into the ticket reader. I'm jealous of the salesclerks who get to sell her packs of chewing gum and newspapers, for the momentary greetings and brushes of skin when she hands over her money. I'm jealous of the hot water from the shower that slides over her skin and soaks into her hair. I'm jealous of the mirrors that reflect the brilliant brown warmth of her eyes. I'm jealous of the pillow on which she lays her cheek at night. Bastards, all of them. They have so much and I have nothing.

I really like talking to her. I like how she turns everything over and over in her mind, and that she doesn't censor herself. Being with her is easy. I seem to laugh.

Because you are fifteen and I’m twenty-two, we have nothing in common socially and are at completely different stages in our lives.

You’re pretty passionate about your unhappiness, aren’t you, Chris?”

I looked right back at her and said, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.

Comment s'habiller pour un mariage à thème médiéval?

-Faites vous porter pâle

-Changez d'amis