“My motto for fashion: If you can’t afford to make an elegant statement, make a ridiculous one.”

“Now the thought of forever makes me tired. Frightened. Sad. What is forever worth? When love is so fragile and even one human life so long?”

“I know you've been through hell, but you didn't let it eat you up inside." He pauses, hugs me a little closer. "And I know you make me think the hell I've been through was worth it . . . if it's what made me recognize heaven when it jumped into my car.”

“God, I love you," I whisper, and come crashing back into my body with a suddenness that makes me gasp. I don't know what's more shocking--that I've called on the god I don't believe in, or that the lie I told felt so much like the truth.”

“He hesitates only a moment before pulling me close, arms tightening around me, mouth meeting mine the same way it did before. Purely, sweetly, wickedly, perfectly. He sighs against my lips, a sound of such relief it echoes through my skin, making me smile and our teeth bump together. I know exactly how he feels. How it feels to come home, to find sanctuary, to be handed that missing piece that makes life not something to be endured, but something to be celebrated.”

“What are you doing here?" she demands."I--I..."I want to touch you. I want to curl into bed beside you and see if you can teach me to dream something that wont make me wake up screaming.”

“It’s only sixteen ninety-five," I say with a flutter of my lashes."You’re serious."I prop my hands on my waist and stick out a hip, striking a pose worthy of a supermodel. "Look at me. Don’t I look serious?"She collapses into the chair outside the dressing room in a fit of giggles so cute they make my insides fizz. "No! You must be stopped," she says."Why?" I strut down an aisle of yellowed lingerie, swiveling my hips, batting bras with flicks of my fingers. "I will be the king of the disco. I will be—" I spin and strike another pose. "An inspiration."She sniffs and swipes at her eyes. "The real Dylan would die before he’d be seen in public in something like that.""The real Dylan is boring." I brace my hands on the arms of her chair and lean down until our faces are a whisper apart. "And he’s not one fourth the kisser I am.""Is that right?" Her lips quirk."You know it is."Her smile melts, and her breath comes faster. "Yeah. I do.”