I don't have to forgive you, Cath said. It's not like that with you. You're just in with me. Always. No matter what happens.

A little manic was what their house ran on.

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.

I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn't that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with another planet). You can still see it in the sky. It's just farther away.

Nothing was dirty. With Park. Nothing could be shameful. Because Park was the sun, and that was the only way Eleanor could think to explain it.

Cath wished she didn't use the word "just" so much. It was her passive-aggressive tell, like someone who twitched when they were lying.

What if Park realized that all the things he thought were so mysterious and intriguing about her were actually just … bleak?