Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.

You keep life on a short leash.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You’re scared of what you can’t control.

Or, if you decide you want to sleep at my place, on opposite sides of my bedroom with a Do Not Cross line drawn down the middle, I'll do it. I won't like it, but I'll do it.

And here I thought they were called Peeping Toms." I didn't need to see him to know he wore a smile. "Stop laughing," I said, my cheeks hot with humiliation. "Get me down." "Jump." "What?" "I'll catch you." "Are you crazy? Go inside and open the window. Or get a ladder." "I don't need a ladder. Jump. I'm not going to drop you.

She cleans a toilet inside and out under a minute. More like terrifying

Patch grinned down at me. “I’m hard to resist.

My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.