“When I tell people I'm planning on majoring in psychology, I usually get one of three responses: A) Oh! Are you analyzing me right now? B) Psychology . . . hardly an exact science, is it? or C) So what's wrong with you?”

“So then, how can I trust you now?" Nathan asked. His tone was light, but his face was guarded. Now would be an ideal time for that kiss, my brain whispered, but I couldn't take the coward's way out. "Because," I said simply, "I'm in love with you.”

“Me?" "Yeah you," he said, giving me a wry smile. "I gave you my number half expecting you would never call, and so when you did . . . why do you think I was so gung ho about driving all the way out here? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I'm loyal to Andrew and everything, but let me tell you---Nathan has a nice chest.”

“Nathan laughed with little real humor. "Maybe that's because I was," he said. "I disapproved of the way Andrew treated you. And i really disapproved of the way I felt about you. You were my roommate's high school sweetheart, and even now, when you're crying over him, I just . . ." I felt like I was standing on the precipice, and my decision to jump or not was the most important one I could make in my life. "What?" I whispered. He look at me, and his eyes were very, very serious. "I just want to kiss you," he said.”

“Something occurred to me, and I sat up to face him. "Earlier, I asked you if you brought the guitar everywhere," I said, "and you got kind of wierd. Why? It's not like you're one of those jerks who always has a guitar but can't actually play it." "Don't you know?" "No." He grinned. "Everyone knows that the whole point of learning guitar is to impress girls. You can't just say, 'sorry, I'd love to show off, but I forgot my guitar at home,' can you?" Now it was my turn to laugh. "I guess not." "So now you know my secret," he said. "Did it work?" I pretended to think about it. "Yeah, it worked.”

“You make faces when you read, you know. I can always tell when you're reading something happy or suspenseful, or upsetting. Your face shows everything...whenever you read, it's all reflected there in your face. Like that time you came over, and Andrew was busy studying, so you read In Cold Blood. You were grimacing and flinching through the whole book, as though it was happening personally to you.”