She shouldn’t be this close to Cole, not alone, not even when she was pissed beyond belief. It was too dangerous, since she had yet to find a cure for I-hate-you-but-I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out-itis.

You know,” she stammered, resenting the way her body reacted to his touch with fireworks and songbirds, “I kind of hate you sometimes.”

“If that’s code for ‘I want to fuck you until I can’t walk straight’, then I kind of hate you, too.

Everybody's crooked. The trick is to find out how they're bent.

Very few people mate for life with the people they fall for at twelve. Doesn't mean is isn't real, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean it doesn't matter, but basically, we're talking a practice swing in the big game of love.

Dempseys are never in trouble. We just have stretches of life that are more interesting than others.

Everyone plays guitar alone, but we can play side by side.