...I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesn’t hurt to smell good too.
Being nice? He’s being horny.
Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.
And anyway, the first three letters in the word diet should tell you what I want it to do.
There was nothing wrong with fire … as long as you didn’t stand too close. Something to keep in mind.
You should shower," I said. "Right now." "I smell that bad?" (Patch) Actually, he smelled that good.
Vee scowled at him. She is famous for that scowl. It's a look that does everything but audibly hiss.
He grinned. “Busted. I’m a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless — and shockingly handsome — alter ego.” “And I’m on top of it,” she announced with witty triumph. “Is that a Freudian slip?” His bluntness caught her off guard. A self-conscious blush rose in her face.
A war was coming either way. Now all I had to do was choose my opponent
If I asked you to do something for me, I don't suppose you'd listen?" When he had my attention, he continued, "I'm going to take you home. Try to forget tonight happened. Try to act normal, especially around Hank. Don't mention my name." By way of an answer, I shot him a black look and swung out of the Tahoe. He followed suit, coming around to my side. "What kind of answer is that?" He asked, but his voice wasn't nearly so gruff.
I hung my fingertips on his waistband, tugging him closer. Patch buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his hands flexing over my back. He gave a low groan. "I love you," he murmured into my hair. "I'm happier right now than I ever remember being.
Chase him down and stall for time. I need two more minutes. ” “Chase him down? How? The Neon has a flat.” “With your own two feet!” “You mean exercise?
I’m not stealing it. We’re stranded. This is called borrowing.” “This is called you’re crazy.
Patch: "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that.
This is crazy," I told Patch in an undertone. "I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you.
You think the two of us and a slummy motel make for a dangerous combination?
I don’t see any police cars.” “They probably had to park a couple blocks over. Anyway, as I was saying, I noticed illegal substances in the hands of a few guests.” “So?” she snapped. “It’s a party.” “Alcohol is illegal under the age of twenty-one.” “Great!” Marcie shouted. “What am I going to do?” She paused, then raised her voice again. “You probably called them!” “Who, me?” Vee said. “And lose the free food? No way.
Gosh, it was nice talking to you, but I’ve got a lot of things I’d rather be doing. Like sticking my hand in the garbage disposal.
Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" I asked. "If I did?" "I don't like it." He grinned. "It stays, Angel.
Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [...] "I get that you're angry—," said Patch. "I am ripped apart!" I shouted.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: