Watching him, I thought, not for the first time that night, that maybe it should have felt strange to be with him, here, now. And yet it didn’t, at all. That was one of the things about the night. Stuff that would be weird in the bright light of day just wasn’t so much once you passed a certain hour. It was like the dark just evened it all out somehow.

It was just one of those things," I said, "You know, that just happen. You don't think or plan. You just do it.

If you were dead," Owen told her, "you'd have bigger problems than what you were wearing.

It's a funny feeling, being suddenly airborne. Just as you realize it, it's over, and you're sinking.

A second later, when he looked up at me, we were face to face, and again, even under these circumstances, I was struck by how good looking he was, in that accidental, doesn't-even-know-it kind of way. Which only made it worse. Or better. Or whatever. "Yup", he said, as if there'd been any doubt, "you're in there, all right." "I was warned, too,"I told him, as he stood up. "I just saw that sculpture, and I got distracted." "The sculpture?" He looked at it, then at me. "Oh, right. Because you know it.

I seriously doubt that the Santa police do an underwear check." -Cora

Get back on that bike.