"What was the name of Pygmalion's sister?" She blinked, twice, obviously surprised. "Ummm," she said, keeping her eyes on me. "I don't know." Rogerson did," I told her. "Rogerson knew everything."

It wasn't like I was some expert on the meaning of being supportive. Was it being loyal even against your better judgement? Or, like Olivia, was it making your displeasure known from the start, even when someone didn't want to hear it?

So this had been all I wanted, a boy who understood how I felt. Now, though, I sometimes wished for more.

Impulsiveness can be charming but deliberation can have an appeal, as well.

This was our common ground, the secret we shared but never spoke aloud. I should have been with him; she should have left him alone. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It's so easy in the past tense.

I wondered if it was really because he cared about me, or if now I was just another challenge.

I mean, it's impossible to fake anything if you've already seen the other person in a way they'd never choose for you to. You can't go back from that.