Nice is good, but it's not enough. I want you back for real. I want to talk to you at lunch, instead of staring at you while you eat. I want to see the smile on your face and know I put it there. I want to hear your dad's voice get all low and pissed off, like it only does when I've stayed over too late.

There’s an us?” “As far as I’m concerned…” He leaned forward, his mouth inches from mine, and my pulse spiked. “There’s nothing but us.

You thought you could figure that out online? Somehow I don't think hellions are much into social networking.

You don't know me. Don't ever think you know me. The only things you know about me are the things you made me do, and that illustrates your character, not mine.

Just FYI, in your case, I think it’s okay to fear the reaper.

I’d learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn’t think of a single thing cooler than that.

Talking. According to Marc, I could talk the color off a crayon.