What Can I Say It's Complicated Novels & Stories

“It’s complicated.” “Complicated?” He repeats, seeming to not quite understand the word. “What’s so complicated about it? Either you hate each other or you’re close, and if it were left up to me, I would guess the latter, so why don’t you tell me what you really mean?"

It was just over. And to be honest, I feel a little relieved. Incredibly sad, but relieved. “Sarah, really, it’s not your fault,” I tell her. I’m really not that upset. ‘I haven’t been in love with you for a while now,’ I want to say what we both know in the back of our minds. But I’m sure if that would make her feel better or worse. “I don’t blame you. I played a part in it as well,” is the best I can come up with.

They weren’t simple. And I hated that. “You don’t get to say things like that anymore,” I said. “Why not?” “Because you gave that up.” A beat. Then, quieter, “Did I?” My chest tightened. “Don’t do this,” I said. “Do what?” “Make it sound like something it’s not.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “And what is it?” “Complicated,” I said. “Is that your way of saying you still feel it?” The question landed like a challenge.

"It's complicated…" "Complicated?" Chloe laughed — a bitter laugh, short, devoid of any joy. "Complicated is a cake that doesn't rise in the oven. Complicated is a dress that won't close at the zipper. This... this is an earthquake. This is a Greek tragedy. This is the headline that's going to sell millions of magazines." "It won't blow up."

“You say you know me, but you won’t explain how. You say you want to help me, but you refuse to tell me why. Do you have any idea how insane this all sounds?” Carver’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of hesitation in his otherwise stoic demeanor. “It’s complicated,” he said finally. I let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp in the stillness of the night. “Of course it is. It’s always complicated, isn’t it? Just my luck.”

And if it rattled her, it could rattle me. This whole game is getting too complicated and out of my grip. Something’s got to give. Soon. Before it gives me away.

This might be complicated. But I'm all in.

Because it complicates everything. And I don’t do complicated.

“That’s not an answer.” “It is,” I said. “Just not the one you want.” Her eyes searched for mine, like she was trying to find something she could argue with. Something she could dismantle. But there was nothing to dismantle. Because I meant it. “You should,” she said after a moment. “Walk away.” “Why?” “Because this gets complicated.” “It already is.” “And it gets messy.” “I can handle mess.” She let out a quiet, almost frustrated laugh. “You say that now.”

I told him it would be much better for both of us if we just kept things completely casual and stayed regular friends. Jake’s face fell instantly when he heard my rejection, the deep disappointment clear in his eyes, but he tried his best to recover his confidence quickly. He let out a sigh, stating that he got it and told me not to worry about it. Then he looked at me knowingly, remarking that when a girl says things are "complicated," it usually means there is already someone else in the picture.