“Okay, I'm sorry for not turning up yesterday." His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran to catch up with me. "Don't be mad. Even though you're sexy as hell when you are." He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop."Don't touch me," I shouted. "Just leave me alone. Wherever I go, there you are being creepy and pervy. I'm sick of this, Marshall. And, you know what? I don't give a shit about your secrets. Keep them. I hope they make you feel all warm and snugly at night.”

“There's nothing wrong with Sam," I said again. "He's...nice."Mercy groaned. "You mean he was too nice, don't you?""I'm not used to people being so nice to me. It was kinda creepy.""I'm gonna offer you some advice," Mercy said, leaning in closer to me. "When a boy is a gentleman to you and is actually nice, Amerie, you don't shoot him down. You don't call them creepy and chase them away! God, I don't know what to do with you.""Stop trying?" I offered hopefully.""Not a chance.”

“Hey," Marshall said, leaning beside me. "You okay? You look supremely pissed."I smiled. "I'm absolutely fine.""Is your boyfriend here on a date with someone else? Did you guys break up or something?" He seemed to be mocking me."Yep. We broke up," I said sarcastically. "I caught him sleeping with my sister and then she found out she was pregnant. It didn't work out between them, though, and he left her for that girl." I gestured at Sarah. "My sister's gonna take him on Jerry Springer."Marshall raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a sister.""And you don't have any brain cells.”

“Who was that?" Sam asked as we walked out of the photo hut."I work with him. It's cool," I said, rubbing my arm absentmindedly."He seems like an ass."Mercy laughed. "But a cute one. And he has a cute one too. You're lucky he's all into you, Amerie. I say go for it."I shot her a look. "You'd tell me to go for a psycho murderer, if he was cute.""Meh. Life's short.”

“I don't know what shit you're working though but I know its there. I know you'd rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don't want me to be a part of the process. I don't care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.""What, exactly, do you mean by 'this'? You fucking me?" I snapped..." Yeah. Me fucking you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I'm gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you're gonna ride me. And when I've exhausted you and you don't have those fucking shields up, I'm gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”

“We need to avoid the caretaker," I said."Good thinking. Overalls and the smell of bleach don't really do it for me.""Remind me to douse some overalls in bleach and wear them the next time I see you.""Planning out next date already? Steady. I want to take this slowly.”

“No more quickly can a person rob you of your joy and peace than when that individual succeeds at making you feel like you're less than worthy of God as compared to his/her own self. The old adage "You're on your way to hell, and I'm on my way to heaven" spoken or implied to another, is the most predominantly effective way to make someone feel better about himself; and he doesn't even have to prove he's better in this life on earth because now he can just say "Wait 'til I'm looking down at you while you're in hell!" But don't be robbed of your joy and peace, individuals or groups of people like that don't know where God is; He is a whisper-distance away from you, is all.”