I know you followed me. Don't look so surprised. It's called a rearview mirror.

Patch: “Let’s get out of here.” – Nora: “Where are we going?” – Patch: “You’ll see.

Father' is such an arbitary word. Douche bag, on the other hand.

She already has a car.” “A Ford. That’s like Toyota’s worst enemy.

Try it on." "It's probably a little snug," I said, suddenly feeling conspicuous. "Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing." He merely smiled. "It has a slit up the thigh." His smile deepened.

Hang on, did you just call me Angel?” I asked. “If I did?” “I don’t like it.” He grinned. “It stays. Angel.” He leaned across the table, raised his hand to my face, and brushed his thumb along one corner of my mouth. I pulled away, too late.

I already know my size. I don't need reminding.