“Jessica..." The sound of his voice saying my name soothed me, and it's all I wanted to hear him say. Just my name, over and over and over again in his buttery baritone. I wanted my name to be his mantra, the word he meditated on, his tool for finding calm in the world.But he kept on talking.”

“What are your thoughts?''My thoughts?' I replied, before I even realized what I was saying. 'My thoughts created my world.'Mac sat up in his seat. He scrunched his curls with his hands, perplexed. 'Who said that?'I told him the truth. 'Oh, just someone I used to know,' I said, stroking the naked skin on my middle finger.”

“I read your poem," I croaked. "'Fall.'"Then something I never thought would happen, happened: Marcus Flutie was shocked by something I said."You did?" he said. "I thought you lost it!""Well someone found it for me. Where do you get off saying," I lowered my voice, "we'll be naked without shame in paradise?"He didn't open his mouth."I know what that means, you know. Who do you think I am?"He didn't open his mouth."We are never going to be naked without shame in paradise."He didn't open his mouth."We're NEVER going to have sex," I whispered, clearly over-stating my case.He didn't open his mouth. The mouth that used to bite mine."And I'm just going to forget about that biting thing from the other night," I said.He looked at me right in the eyes. If he'd focused hard enough on my pupils, he could've seen his own reflection, his own face smirking at me."You couldn't forget if you tried," he said, before walking away.He's right. And I don't know if I hate him or love him for that.”

“I've been told my whole life that I've got all the power. But it's only now that I'm beginning to believe it. My days of selling junk food and perfume are over. If the world is going to listen to me, I better start saying things that are worth hearing.”

“I love when I reach Marcus on the phone and as he says hello, I can hear the music he's listening to in the background. That music is the sound of him without me. How he surrounds himself when I'm not there, which is almost all the time.”

“Most people talk when they have nothing to say. I’m not talking because I have too much to say. None of which I’d want you to hear.”

“Oh, did I mention that he's Spanish, as in from Spain, and that he occasionally slips into his native tongue? (Add your own sexual innuendo here. It's just too easy for me. Really.) He's from Madrid but has lived here for more than a decade, long enough to master English, but without flattening his Castilian quirks. Who knew a lispy accent could be so manly? So damn sexy? I hear those "ths" clinging to his tongue and go loco.”