Jenny Han

Quand Peter et Lara Jean, ont commencé à faire semblant d'être ensemble, la jeune fille ne s'attendait pas à vraiment tomber amoureuse. Et elle se retrouve encore plus confuse quand le garçon de son passé refait surface. Qui choisir quand on est amoureuse de deux garçons à la fois ?

P.S. Je t'aime toujours...

Someone

“I had no idea you were such a feminist,” I say.

“Feminist?” Stormy makes a disgusted sound in her throat. “I’m no feminist. Really, Lara Jean!”

“Stormy, don’t get worked up about it. All it means is that you believe men and women are equal, and should have equal rights.”

“I don’t think any man is my equal. Women are far superior, and don’t you forget it.

“Fine, then I don’t know if I’m going to make it to your tree-house party on Saturday. I might be too tired from the game.”

I gasp. “You’d better be there!” This party is small as it is, and Chris isn’t the most reliable person. It can’t just be me and Trevor and John. Three people does not a party make.

Peter makes a harrumph sound. “Well, then I’d better see some lemon cookies in my locker come game day.”

Peter bursts out, “I didn’t make you, you offered up that information yourself, and look, if it was a lie and you have me, please just freaking take me out already! I’m begging you. Come to my house right now, and I’ll let you sneak up to my room. I’ll be a sitting duck for you if it means I can see you again.”

Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish

I might, have the wish I wish tonight. I wish not to cry.

It might be my imagination, but I think I hear his heart beating. His is beating and mine feels like it’s breaking.

Like, why do I speak? Why did God give me a mouth if I’m just going to say dumb stuff with it?

I'd take him over Peter any time, and not just because he's blonde

I hurry over to John and Stormy. Stormy beams at me. “Doesn’t she look like an absolute doll?” She swans off.

With a straight face John says, “Lara Jean, you’re an absolute doll.”

He nods. Then, quite suddenly, he bangs his glass down on the table, so hard the table shakes and I jump. “All right,” he says. “It’s do or die. D-day.”

Shyly I say, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, John.”

“No, I want to. I didn’t take swing-dancing lessons from Stormy for nothing 

We zoom around for a bit, and at the next stoplight he slows and  puts his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. “Isn’t this how they did it in the fifties?” he asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other around my shoulders. 

My heart rate picks back up again. “Well, technically we’re dressed for the forties—” and then he kisses me. His lips are warm and firm against mine, and my eyes flutter shut. 

When he pulls away just a fraction, he looks down at me and says, half serious, half not, “Better than the first time?” 

I’m dazed. He’s got some of my lipstick on his face now. I reach up and wipe his mouth. The light turns green; we don’t move; he’s still looking at me. Someone honks a horn behind us. “The light’s green.” 

He doesn’t make a move; he’s still looking at me. “Answer first.” 

“Better.” John pushes his foot on the gas, and we’re moving again.

And then John Ambrose McClaren says one last thing, a thing that makes my heart swell. “I don’t think it was our time then. I guess it isn’t now, either.” John looks over at me, his gaze steady. “But one day maybe it will be.”

P.S. Je t'aime toujours... quotes

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