“Silence, please? I'm trying to watch this documentary." Laurel nodded at The Bachelor. "I believe one of the females is about to present to the alpha.”

“Is six a.m. too early to watch The Bachelor and mock all the giggly, desperate women?""Go for it. Though I bet it'd work better as a drinking game," Laurel said. "One shot for the flirty arm touch. Chug if they strip and bum-rush the pool." Anne hit play. "Like they'd get their hair wet."Laurel stared at the screen, laughed at Anne's comments but felt another weird pang upset her insides. "Would you say this show makes something incredibly complex--you know, relationships--into something mind-numbingly vapid? Or does it make something actually rather simple into a big fucking circus?""Both. That's why I love it.""I couldn't stand competing for a man like that," Laurel murmured. "I don't have the right...programming for it. Like to fight like that. Some people get an adrenaline rush and they're like foosh, give me somebody to beat down. I just, like curl up into a ball and want to hide." "I'm somewhere in the middle," Anne said. "I'm like a ninja. I'll like, come out of my shadowy hiding space and beat you down, bitches. You won't even see me.”

“Laurel had gotten plenty of head in her time, but never like this. Flynn fucked her with his mouth…”

“His lips were parted, lids heavy. This moment might not be about him and me, about two bodies unified in pleasure or anything profound, but goddamn he looked good. Looked exactly as he felt— strong and big and one hundred percent in control. And I felt exactly as he surely saw me, a hungry vessel, eager to please, at the mercy of his cock.”

“You taste so fucking amazing.” He brought his head up and Laurel could see the violent rise and fall of his chest. “Sit on my face,” he said.”

“I watched him go, a tower of lean muscle and scar tissue camouflaging more secrets than I’d realized.”

“He watched her screen, her spell-checker halting at such spurious entries as "fuckwitism" and "Caliguliberal".”