Ethereal

Play hard to get. You should be.

Falling in love is a lot like death. It chooses you. It decides the moment and the chain of events that will preclude the precise intersection of life in which it occurs. It uses you—treats you as though you were malleable in its warm pliable hands. It doesn’t bother to ask if you want it, or need it, just fills the gaping hole of destiny’s design

Gage opens the door. I’m not sure whether he gets out or Logan yanks him into the street, but a fight erupts. Full throttle kicks to the balls

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. It’s poison every single time.

The thought of my mother talking to me about sex makes me want to stab my eyes out with a fork, gouge even deeper and scramble my brains to prevent the conversation from ever happening.

My clothes are native to the rug in the center of the room, which my mother has lovingly deemed the hamper.

Drake is my own personal suicide, and the sooner I except that, the sooner I can come to terms with my loner status at the school library

Gage appears beneath me. 'Jump, and I'll catch you.' 'No.' I strengthen my death grip on the trunk of the tree. 'I'm very afraid of heights. I'll need hours of therapy to repair the damage done here today.'

He takes a hold of the back of my neck.