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

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 loved you long before you loved me. It's the only thing I have you beat at, and I'll bring it up every chance I get.

As in, I wouldn't know normal if it marched up and poked me in the eye.

Tacos." "Tacos?" I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese." "I know what a taco is!

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 wondered why life had to suck so hard sometimes.