You’re impinging on my private space,” I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn’t the SAT, Nora.

I don't go out with strangers," I said. "Good thing I do. I'll pick you up at five.

Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hard-core bad boy,” said Vee. “Emits a certain don’t-mess-with-me signal. Tell me he doesn’t look like Dracula’s spawn. Tell me I’m imagining things.

I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep beside you each night,” Patch told me gravely. “I want to take care of you, cherish you, and love you in a way no other man ever could. I want to spoil you — every kiss, every touch, every thought, they all belong to you. I’ll make you happy. Every day, I’ll make you happy.

Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" "If I did?

Vee never needed a reason to do something stupid. Sad thing was, most of the time I didn't either.

Inwardly, I gouged my eyes out.