Raegan and I were on the opposite side of town, strutting across the gravel lot of the Red Door, slowly and in unison, as if we were being filmed while walking to a badass soundtrack.

Shepley stomped into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. “She’s fucking impossible!”
I kissed Travis on the cheek. “That’s my cue.”
“Good luck,” Travis said.
I slid in beside America, and she huffed. “He’s fucking impossible!

Su aire de superioridad me irritó, pero aquella era su fiesta y yo era su invitada. Tenía educación suficiente para saber que no debía inmovilizarle el brazo a la espalda y aplastarle la cara contra el suelo.

If I’d said that to my sensible, smutty, twelve-year-old self, he would have laughed until he hemorrhaged

Laugh till you're exhausted.

This is where I will shine. This is where my father would have cried, clasped me to his bosom and muttered, "my daughter, my darling daughter. I know thee, because you are a reflection of me." (Don't ask me where I get this shit. I'm just THAT worldly.)