If a fangirl tells you she likes you, you better be happy. Her standards are very high.

Bright and warm and crackling--he was a human campfire.

In new situations, all the trickiest rules are the ones nobody bothers to explain to you. (And the ones you can’t google.) Like, where does the line start? What food can you taste? Where are you supposed to stand, then where are you supposed to sit? Where do you go when you’re done, why is everyone watching you? . . . Bah.

It’s just . . . everything. There are too many people. And I don’t fit in. I don’t know how to be.

I'm going to get him to sign my boobs. With his tongue.

I suck at being social. I think one thing and my mouth says something completely different, like I'm possessed. By a whole lot of stupid.