You're wearing at least four different kinds of sweater." "This is a scarf." "You look tarred and sweatered.

Do you feel like he ignores you?" "No. I feel like he doesn't see me.

You give away nice like it doesn't cost you anything.

For the first time in weeks, Park didn't have that anxious feeling in his stomach on the way home from school, like he had to soak up enough Eleanor to keep him until the next day.

I'd rather pour myself into a world I love and understand than try to make something up out of nothing.

You know?" he repeated. She smiled, so he kissed her. "You're not the Han Solo in this relationship, you know." "I'm totally the Han Solo," she whispered. It was good to hear her. It was good to remember it was Eleanor under all this new flesh. "Well, I'm not the Princess Leia," he said. "Don't get so hung up on gender roles," Eleanor said.” ... “You can be Han Solo," he said, kissing her throat. "And I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.

The next night, Lincoln parked his Corolla right next to The Courier's front door. I'm here, he thought. Find me. Follow me. Make this inevitable.