My God, Jack - with a look like that, you two should just get a room. And try not to pick the one with a dead body next to it this time.

I think the first thing we need to talk about is you not running around in tight T-shirts and yoga pants.” “Fine. I’ll stop doing that as soon as you shave.” Jack ran his hand along his jaw and grinned. “You like the scruff, huh?” Did she ever.

Kyle had to give her credit; it took skill—plus no heart and a serious abuse of the English language— to break up with someone in fewer than 140 characters.

Sitting next to her, Amy was wide-eyed, mesmerized at the sight of Jack heading over in all his seemingly pissed-off-once-again glory. "I changed my mind, Cam. If this was all a big setup and he's coming over to strip for me, I think I can handle it. I definitely can handle it.

He maybe, possibly, said that if he got word of anyone getting in your way, they’d find out whether there was any truth to the rumor about him knowing how to kill a man with paper clips.

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.

Lesbian?” Payton turned around and saw J.D. standing there. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe she was basking in the glow of their successful pitch to Gibson’s. Maybe it was her promise to Laney to be the “New Payton,” or maybe it was a combination of all those things. But Payton actually found herself smiling at J.D. It’s just an excuse, the lesbian thing,” she said.