“Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.”

“I don't believe in love at all," he returns, equally quiet. "It's just a name people give the endorphins that spring up after some really hot fucking, and the justification they use to manipulate the shit out of each other afterward.”

“Yet sometimes being a friend meant letting people do things that hurt, like putting distance between you, just because it made them happy.”

“I always know exactly where you are in a room", he tells me without looking round. "I know how many times you run your fingers through your hair. I know when you look at me as well as the precise instant you look at anyone else.”

“Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way; I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.”

“He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.”

“If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.”