ARE YOU CRAZY?" I ASKED. He gave me the same wordless look he always did when I asked that question.

A loud booming noise interrupted us, and we saw a flash of light off to my right. People near the other garages screamed. "There, you see?" asked Abe, quite pleased with himself. "A new gate. Perfect timing.

He'd written me up a proposal of why dating him was a sound decision. It had included things like "I'll give up cigarettes unless I really, really need one" and "I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris—but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises.

Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery.” “Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?” murmured Doug. “Well,” I told Doug, “I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out.” Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded. “Then I said—not knowing who he was—that I’d be Seth Mortensen’s love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books.

For once, you're going to hear something that doesn't fit into your neat, compartmentalized world of order and logic and reason.

There was a lot of apologizing going on, but I realized that was how it was with people you cared about. You forgave each other and moved on.

You see something you like?" I asked, echoing something I'd said to him ling ago, when he'd caught me in a compromising position at school. "Lots," he said. -Rose (Roza) to Dimitri