Read What Brings Me to You for Free Online

the beach, Charley."
                  "Teddy, it's obvious you know nothing about girls."
                  "Enlighten me."
                  "Despite what you think you know I'm going to give it to you straight and it may alter your perception of us as a gender. Girls are SNIVVELL.” She counted down on her fingers as she listed: “Selfish. Needy. Immature. Vicious. Vindictive. Evil. Lascivious. Liars. They will slice your heart out and feed it to the dogs before thinking twice."
    I wanted to laugh. Partly because she was right, and partly because I felt a like Mr. Darcy. Are you so severe on your own sex ? I wanted to ask. But she was looking square in my eyes, unblinking. She was serious.
                  "Are you SNIVVELL?"
                  "I can be. Yes."
                  "There are exceptions, no?"
                  "Name one."
                  She got me. I couldn't. Every woman I'd ever met fit into that category at some time or another. "Mother Theresa."
                  "Saints don't count."
                  "Fine, but you still haven't answered my question." She sighed, exasperated with me but I had to know. I wanted to see her body so badly, okay so I didn’t want her for a meaningless fuck but that didn’t leave fucking off the table entirely. Besides that, somewhere deep inside of me there was this niggling sense of dread about it. It was clearly more than just a fashion choice for her since whenever I brought it up she got all shifty, but I couldn’t get a grasp on it.
                  "Seriously?"
                  "Look if it's because of some complex given to you by your mother then just let it go. No one cares."
                  "You don't know me like that, Teddy. You need to drop this." she was pulsating with anger now, her normally steady brown eyes dancing, but I didn't stop.
                  "So it  is   a mommy thing!" I knew that I was goading her into an argument but she looked so cute when she was all riled up. Maybe if I nicked her pride enough she'd strip for me, I thought.
                  "Teddy, not every girl has a flawed relationship with her mother. And even if that were the case, not every relationship results in a crushed self-esteem or negative body image or whateverthefuck   they're telling girls these days. Furthermore, I don't wear pasties and a string up my ass because I'm quite aware I have nothing to show off, so I don't. I would rather not expose myself to ridicule from my mother or any other person for that matter, least of all you. I dress in what is comfortable for me. What's more, I don't think you're some kind of oracle because you can regurgitate a mother archetype you learned in Lit one-oh-one at the community college. I'm not impressed."
                  I could see the hives spreading underneath her collar bone. She was actively controlling her breathing; her chest heaving from the force of it, but none of it showed on her face except for that solitary sadness in her eyes. It looked almost as if she may cry.  Shit. Please don't cry.      
                  "I'm sorry, Charley. I'm not trying to impress you," Shit. Please don't cry. What do I do? Flattery. She loved it when I complimented her, I thought. "I think you're the one trying to impress. ‘Archetype'? Excuse me Miss Smarty Pants." I tried poking her lightly in her willowy arm but she waved me off and gave me another hard look.
                  "Are you intimidated by intelligence, Teddy?"
                  "Never."
                  "Let me rephrase: are you intimidated by intelligent women?" Even though her look was fierce she was almost smiling. The words slipped out before I could stop them.
                  "Not until now." No girl had ever done that to me before. Especially