That’s because you ooze preemptive leave-me-alone death rays.

You flirt with everything." She could tell that her eyes were popping-- her eyeballs actually felt cold around the edges. "You flirt with old people and babies and everybody in between.

"What about him?" she’d say, finding an attractive guy to point out while they were standing in the lunch line. "Do you want to kiss him?" "I don’t want to kiss a stranger," Cath would answer. "I’m not interested in lips out of context."

He made her feel like more than the sum of her parts.

Things she knew now, that she hadn't known two hours ago: Park was covered with skin. Everywhere.

I miss you." "That's stupid," she said. "I saw you this morning." "It's not the time," Levi said, and she could hear that he was smiling." It's the distance.

I don't know if I even believe in that anymore. The right guy. The perfect guy. The one. I've lost faith in "the". How do you feel about "a" and "an"? Indifferent. So you're considering a life without articles?