A garter. You’re supposed to take it off and keep it as a memento. K-k-kinda like a trophy for going far sexually with a girl. It’s stupid, really. And kind of d-d-degrading if I think about it too m-m-much.” “I know what it is,” he says, amusement evident in his voice. “I just wanted to hear your explanation.

You were lookin’ at me like you wanted to kiss me.” I force a laugh. “Yeah, right,” I say sarcastically. “Nobody’s watchin’ if you want to, you know, try it. Not to brag, but I’m somewhat of an expert.

Get a grip, Dad. I'm not going to do anything you wouldn't do at my age.' He stands up and says, 'That's it. You're canceling this date.

You know you can do more, but everyone expects you to quit.

I like that girl more that I can remember likin’ anything in my life. I’m not about to give her up. I’ll start carin’ what people think when I am six feet under.

I don't belong here. It doesn't matter, because even if I don't belong in this place, she's here and I want to be where she is.

Mujer, you own my soul.