Velveteen

She walks a tightrope between psycho and smokin'.

So, wait. That's it? We make out and it was awesome and you make me feel things I never have with any other girl, and then you run? I gotta say, I'm feeling a little slutty here." -Nick

Could he actually be a decent guy? Hard to imagine. He was pretty to look at, though, she thought. Boys weren't objectified nearly enough, and turnabout is always fair play.

She never saw the point of making fun of strangers – how could you possibly know enough about them to hit below the belt?

He was ridiculously gorgeous, even with bed-head--maybe because of it. It made her sick--like violently, ill. He could at least be polite and have some scars, a third nipple, or a low-hanging ear on the side of his head. But no. He was perfect and adorable and in her bed. And, oh yeah, she felt like punching the shit out of him.

I could take care of you," he said, his breath hot against her neck. "We could care about each other." -Nick

Well, you have to accept this.Check it out.You know how when someone dies, people are all sad and stuff?" "Yeah?" "Well,why are they sad?" His face scrunched up quizzically and then brightened. "Because they won't be able to see their loved ones again. They'll miss them." "No!" she shouted, suddenly standing and pacing like a detective delivering the evidence to a room full of suspects. "It's because they have to rely on faith that they will see that person again in heaven or..." Her eyes drifted toward the sky. "Wherever. When someone close to you dies, your faith is at its shakiest. Even if you're an atheist." He cocked his head to the side,"How do you figure?" "It just happens. Death causes people to reevaluate their beliefs. It brings up questions you don't want to ask;it creates anxiety.