He liked the way her hand felt in his, liked the simple intimacy of the gesture and the way it said - without the need for words - that they were together.

You are not just a big-picture girl for me, Brooke Parker. You’re the only picture.

She asked him the question she had been asking herself for the past few days. "Why are you being so nice to me now?" J.D. leaned forward in his chair. He gazed directly into her eyes, and Payton suddenly found herself wondering why it had taken him eight years to look at her that way. "Because you're letting me," he said softly.

He didn't care whose league Jordan was in. All that mattered was that she was his.

Ignore me. I don’t want to talk about my nonexistent love life today.

Oh God, baby...love me.

J.D. cleared his throat and pushed the button on the intercom. “Uh, Payton, hi. It’s J.D.” Dead silence. Then another crackle. “Sorry. Not interested.” Cute. But J.D. persisted. Again with the button. “I want to talk to you.” Crackle. “Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?” Okay, he probably deserved that.