You know your Lamborghini is on fire, right?

Being brave is when you have to do something because you know it is right, but at the same time, you are afraid to do it, because it might hurt or whatever. But you do it anyway.

Jesse, this is Craig. Craig, Jesse. You two should get along. Jesse's dead, too.

But I had loved him. A part of me still did. Maybe more than a part of me, because I'm a complete moron.

Maybe nobody has a right to tell anybody to shut up. Maybe this is how wars get started, because someone tells someone else to shut up, and then no one will apologize.

Jesse, who had not stirred the whole time from the spot he'd been standing, confident I could handle Cheryl myself, was grinning. "It's every girl's dream to guy to go to prom with the guy she loves?" he echoed, not just one, but both inky black eyebrows raised. "Don't start with me," I said. I tried to hide my suddenly flaming cheeks by scraping away what was left of the cannolis, and replacing them with the contents of an upended bag of chocolate chip cookies. "I have things to do.

The fact that he was willing to sacrifice his own face in order to keep mine from getting bashed in