“Instead, she poured herself another drink. Tinsley was horrible, yes, but at least she was open about it. Callie couldn’t help feeling like Brett and Jenny were just as bad … just more secretive. But maybe it was just the wine talking. Maybe.”

“I just like meeting people.”“I don't.” Tinsley wrinkled her nose. “It upsets my balance. I hate having to constantly reconfigure everyone, who fits where and all that.”

“It's fine.” Brett shrugged, suppressing the urge to say something like, “The drugs are okay, but the sex is lousy.” But she didn't want her suddenly nun-like sister to have a heart attack before Brett got a chance to pump her for information.”

“That “relationship” was a perfect example of Callie convincing herself of something that didn’t really exist. She’d believed in unicorns until she was eleven, despite all evidence to the contrary, simply because she’d wanted to.”

“She closed Dan's door and walked down the hall to her room. He makes a good boyfriend, she repeated to herself. What the hell was that suppose to mean? She didn't just want a good boyfriend. She wanted that thing Gustav Klimt had captured so perfectly in The Kiss. That radiant, electric, hold-me-tight-so-I don't-fall-from-up-here-in-the-sky feeling of being in love.Well, don't we all, sweetie?”

“Tinsley felt like a puppeteer playing with her marionettes, holding all the strings.”

“Tinsley hated the thought of people greeting her with “Where's Julian?” It was like once you were a couple, you ceased to exist as an individual. It made her a little sick to her stomach.”