I liked the idea of living in a city - any city, especially a strange one - liked the thought of traffic and crowds, of working in a bookstore, waiting tables in a coffee shop, who knew what kind of odd, solitary life I might slip into? Meals alone, walking the dogs in the evening; and nobody knowing who I was.
one of my favorite things about the rivals-to-lovers trope is when one of them, at the beginning of their relationship, grumbles about how much they hate the other person’s awful face and i sort of cackle to myself like, oh man. you’re going to have it so bad. it’s going to be so great. you are going to love the CRAP out of that awful face. you’ll be composing delicious, pining, sappy sonnets about it. i love it.