My first job entailed spending a summer working in a cornfield in Nebraska.

Wow. Nice bike,” I said. Which was a lie. It looked like a glossy black death trap.

I'm not leaving until you tell me why you followed me. I know I'm a fascinating guy, but this is starting to feel like an unhealthy obsession.

I had fun last night," I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. "I'm officially on love with your sheets." "That the only thing you're in love with?" "Nope. Your mattress, too." Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. "My bed's an open invitation.

Tell me what's going on here. Why can I hear your voice inside my head and why did you say you came to school for me?" "I was tired of admiring your legs from a distance.

Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's" "I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.

He gave Marcie a spare to the Jeep—I should park this thing in the ocean, twenty feet under.