Looks like somebody's got jungle fever.' 'That's not even the right kind of racist.

You're not the ugly one. Levi Grinned. You're just the Clark Kent... ... Will you warn me when you take off your glasses?

Eggnog reminds me of mucus." "Me, too. But in a good way.

And when Eleanor smiled, something broke inside of him. Something always did.

She’d majored in English, hoping that meant she could spend the next four years reading and writing. And maybe the next four years after that.

Cath ran her fingers along the cover, over the raised gold type. Then someone else ran right into her, pushing the book into Cath's chest. Pushing two books into her chest. Cath looked up just as Wren threw an arm around her. "They're both crying," Cath heard Reagan say. "I can't even watch." Cath freed an arm to wrap around her sister. "I can't believe it's really over," she whispered. Wren held her tight and shook her head. She really was crying, too. "Don't be so melodramatic, Cath," Wren laughed hoarsely. "It's never over... It's Simon.

He already knows what I look like," Cath said. "There's no point in being tricky about it now." "How is doing your hair--and maybe putting on some lip gloss--being tricky?" "It's like I'm trying to distract him with something shiny.