If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.

When it comes to reflexes, I'm like a cat. I'm Catwoman. I'm invulnerable. The only reason he got a piece of me is because of the rain. Cats don't like water. It impairs us. It's our kryptonite.

I can't imagine why you're so interested." He shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.

Your file was empty. Nothing. Not even an immunization record.” He didn’t even pretend to look surprised. He eased back in his seat, eyes gleaming obsidian. “And you’re telling me this because you’re afraid I might cause an outbreak? Measles or mumps?” “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn’t right. You haven’t fooled everybody. I’m going to find out what you’re up to. I’m going to expose you.” “Looking forward to it.” I flushed, catching the innuendo too late.

What was up with class today? It was watered-down porn. He practically had you and Patch on top of your lab table, horizontal, minus your clothes, doing the Big Deed.

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

Stop crying. You're giving archangels everywhere a bad name." Patch to Pepper