If he could, he’d bring Hemingway back to life for one last cocktail, smoke a cigar with Fitzgerald, dissect the nature of human existence with Steinbeck. He’s the kind of person who believes all Real Literature has already been written by dead white men. In his mind, the only thing you’re supposed to feel while reading a book is a sense of superiority. I highly recommend feeling one (1) sometime In the interest of accuracy, I’d like to point out that you’ve only seen me cry once, and I’m not sure that necessarily makes me “a crier” Oh, I didn’t realize we still thought crying was a sign of weakness I fling back the sheets, ready for battle.

Neil McNair has become my alarm clock, if alarm clocks had freckles and knew all your insecurities. I couldn’t sleep thinking he might be texting me. I’d put my phone on silent before slipping into bed, but beneath the pillow, my fingers twitched with combative responses. For a while last year, I decided to be the mature one, vowed to make my room a McNair-free zone.

We’ve been text-taunting since we were sophomores, after a series of morning threats made both of us late for homeroom. Neil McNair-“McNightmare” in my phone-is annoyingly punctual. The text jolts me from sleep a minute before my 5:55 alarm, three quick pulses to let me know my least favorite person is already awake. Best Car Loans in Canada: A Comparison of Rates, Terms, and Financing

Today tonight tomorrow book