You did what was right for those who agreed with you, and that is all in the past. We are talking about our future. Oliver, we cannot live as we did.

Here's a tip...If you leave a girl crying you're probably not doing your Don Juan routine right, asshole.

But that quickly faded, and he frowned. "You're bleeding," he said. "What happened?" Claire sighed and held up her wrist to show him the bandage. "Man, you would be so embarrassed if I said it was something else." Michael looked blank. "I'm a girl, Michael, it could have been all natural, you know. Tampons?

Maybe I should, I don't know leave? Because this is starting to sound like one of those reality shows I don't want to be in. Maybe you guys want to take turns in the confessional booth.

"I don't like this," he said. "I don't like knowing you can't forgive me, Claire. Please, I said I was sorry, what do you want me to do? Beg? I will. I'll get on my knees right here if you want."

Myrnin came in from the back room, carrying a load of books, which he dropped with a loud bang on the floor to glare at the two of them. "Excuse me," he said, "but when did my lab become appropriate for snogging?" "What's snogging?" Shane asked. "Ridiculous displays of inappropriate affection in front of me. Roughly translated. And what are you doing here?

Oliver . . . well. Who knew if Oliver’s problem was the disease or just a bad attitude?