For someone who’s made it clear that her life is superior to every other student’s at this school, you sure make it a habit of pursuing every facet of our boring, worthless lives.

My history is long, and not much of it is good. I can't erase it, but I'm determined not to make another mistake. Not when the stakes are high, not when it comes to you.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

Nora: I have questions. Patch: I should have known you've only been keeping me around for answers. Nora: Well, that and your kisses. Anyone ever tell you you're an incredible kisser?

Biggest dream?” I was proud of this one because I knew it would stump him. It required forethought. “Kiss you.” “That’s not funny,” I said, holding his eyes, grateful I didn’t stutter. “No, but it made you blush.

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.

Nora: This is crazy. Patch: I'm crazy. About you.