The first rule of Evernight is that any vampire who seeks sanctuary must be given a place." -Charity

It’s less as if he sees me and more as if . . . something happens to him.

It’s funny—when people call you “shy,” they usually smile. Like it’s cute, some funny little habit you’ll grow out of when you’re older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt—really being shy, not just unsure at first—they wouldn’t smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense. It’s not cute at all.

For my own good. Anytime anyone had ever used those words to me, they hadn't had the slightest clue what ‘my own good’ truly was

Vic nudged my elbow with his. "You and me are still friends, right? You guys get a joint custody in the divorce. Generous visitations rights." "Divorce?" Despite myself, I laughed. Only Vic could call the aftermath of a bad first date a divorce. We hadn't exactly been friends beforehand, so "still" was an exaggeration, but it would've been mean to point that out. Besides, I liked Vic. "We're still friends." "Excellent. The weirdos have to stick together around here." "Are you calling me a weirdo?" "Highest honor I can bestow.

All of my best friends are dead people. Someday I've got to figure out how that happened.

If you loved someone, you couldn’t let lies come between you. No matter what happened—even if you’d already lost each other forever—you owed each other the truth.