I try not to laugh at the fact that even when she’s drunk, she has a hard time saying it. “Where do you want me to take you?” She drops her head back against my chest. “You can just keep carrying me. It’s very relaxing.

At least tell me you won? And that the scratches and dings were totally worth it." "Of course. They're always worth it," he says with a hidden meaning that only the two of us could ever understand.

It hurts to be around life. People don't understand how close death is, right over their shoulders, around the block, at the end of a street. It's everywhere.

No. I just never wanted to throw them away. Even if they were broken. I still loved them.

You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble." "Why?" "Because of her right there. Do you know what Daisy would do if you ever cheated on her." "Move on to the next guy that told her she has nice tits." "Okay, you're probably right on that one.

I can handle scars, especially ones that are on the outside." I understand his meaning from the depths of my heart.

I take my time because I love how it feels to carry her, the way she needs me, the way I need to protect her.