I'd forgotten how much feelings hurt.

Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.

Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.

This is the real unwritten rule: You don't want what you know you shouldn't. And I haven't just broken that rule. I have wrecked it, smashed it, and still... And still I want.

Hope was supposed to be a good thing, but it was starting to feel like every other four-letter word you're not supposed to say.

I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.

My father looked like he was having a stroke— not that Mel seemed to notice because he just kept talking. “Patrick needs a ride. No car, you know, and so I figured, hey, I can pick up some gas money.” He laughed. No one else did, and now Patrick looked like he was trying to push himself inside the door and hide.