Claire: Seriously? My mom? Let you in my room? In the middle of the night? Michael: Moms like me.

You look like a Goth factory exploded all over you!" he called as she ran down the hall. "Love you, too, jackass!

It's been the toughest week of my life, not touching you. Not talking to you. Waiting to see what you were going to do." He kissed her again, a warm, damp touch of lips, exquisitely controlled. "But it doesn't matter whether you stay or go. I'll still need you. So if you want to go off to Boston, Ill wait. Right here, whenever you need me.

Can I come back and see you sometime?" "Long as you bring me some chocolate," Gramma said, and smiled. "I'm partial to chocolate." "Gramma, you're diabetic." "I'm old, girl. Gonna die of something. Might as well be chocolate.

Crosses?" "Definitely" "Why?" "Because they're evil, soulless, bloodsucking fiends?" "So was my sixth-grade gym teacher, but he wasn't afraid of a cross.

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.

Okay, this was kissing. Serious kissing. Not just a kiss before moving out, not a good-bye, this was Hello, sexy, and wow, she’d never even suspected that it could feel this way.