You can’t ever know the real anybody unless you’re friends with them. And sometimes not even then.

Derek’s like, “So . . . what do you want to do first?” “I don’t know.” “Feel like ice cream?” “It’s, like, three degrees out.” “That’s why getting ice cream would be badass.

I'm so excited that my stomach is in a jiggle-jaggle of nerves. There they go again. Jiggle. Jaggle. I'm a mess.

We can’t help who we love. Love isn’t logical, or even our choice. Love chooses us.

He never gives up on who I am or who I could be. He doesn't run away when things get complicated.

Life would be so much easier if fictional boys were real.

Its so weird how connecting with someone in a different setting can bring out this whole other side of them. Like how certain places inspire us to act in ways we normally wouldn't.