If Eastlake High School were the universe, I would be one of the moons circling Planet Emma, constantly hidden by her shadow, and glad to be there. Nash Hudson would be one of the stars: too bright to look at, too hot to touch and at the center of his own solar system.

Hey." Tod squeezed my hand to draw me out of my thoughts. "I think death looks good on you.

So, 'reaper' is really just a nice word for 'covert pervert?' Is that what you're saying?

Behind me, Marc made a soft whistling sound, clearly impressed. “That’s not standard procedure,” he said, his tone entirely too reasonable as he leaned over the stray’s body to open the back passenger-side door. “Yeah, well, I’m not your standard enforcer.

From adult diapers to bedpans? Move over, Elvis, I’m the afterlife of the party!

I don't hate it. It does no good to hate something you can't change.

... you just turned down the woman who put a marshmallow duck in your hot chocolate. I hope you feel like a real asshole now.