Do you really think he was flirting with me?" "Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs..." He looks at the CD. "All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.

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.

And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

Something in me, in my bruised heart, wakes up, and even though I'm terrified, I don't push the feeling away.

I heard how people sounded when their dreams were shattered, when their lives were turned into a waking nightmare.

Anger can try to break your heart, but sorrow is what will. What can. What does.

I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.