Why was it the hot mean girls always ran in packs, like hyenas?

What was your name again?" "Still Eve." "No, I'm sure it's something else. That doesn't seem right.

Bracelets with white symbols?” Michael made the question casual; in fact, he bent his head and concentrated on tuning his guitar, not that it needed it. Every note sounded perfect as it whispered out of the strings. “Do you remember?” “No.” She felt a pure burst of something that wasn’t quite panic, wasn’t quite excitement. “Does that mean they have Protection?” He hesitated for about a second, just long enough for her to know he was surprised. “You mean condoms?” he asked. “Doesn’t everybody?

You know what I mean. And by the way, you should slow down.” I sighed. “You’re kidding me. This is coasting. This is little old lady speed.” “NASCAR drivers would have heart attacks. Slow down before we get a ticket.” “Chicken.

Look, I hate good-byes, too. But sometimes, we need them just to survive.

His smile was bright and sweet and hot enough to melt solid steel. "Is this the part where I kiss you?" "If you like." "Oh," he said, "I like.

The only way to stop a rebellion is to crush it with blood and fire, and to wound them so they'll never dare to raise a hand again.