Why is Anthony Amowitz using his pimp smile on you?” “You’re only calling him a pimp because he’s here. At Marcie’s.” “Yeah, so?” “He’s being nice.” I elbowed her. “Smile back.” “Being nice? He’s being horny.

Patch reached for my hand and pushed my dad's ring off the tip of his finger and into my palm, curling my fingers around it. He kissed my knuckles. "I was going to give this back earlier, but it wasn't finished." I opened my palm and held the ring up. The same heart was engraved on the underside, but now there were two names carved on either side of it: NORA and JEV. I looked up. "Jev? That's your real name?" "Nobody's called me that in a long time.

He's got the whole bad-boy-in-need-of-redemption thing going on, but the catch is, most bad boys don't want redemption. They like being bad. They like the power they get from striking fear and panic into the hearts of mothers everywhere

I would lay down everything I possess, even my soul, for you. If that isn't love, it's the best I have.

I don't have a car." His eyes sliced into mine. "I walked here," I explained. "I'm on foot." "Angel," he said in a way that sounded like he sincerely hoped I was joking.

You're scared of what you can't control

I didn’t break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,” Patch said.