“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.”

“I say that is wine," Brett held up her glass. "We ought to toast something. 'Here's to royalty.'""This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. you don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. you lose the taste."Brett's glass was empty.”

“I smell like brett riley”

“But I like labels,” she admitted. “They make everything so much clearer.” Her sister Bree always told her she liked things to be wrapped up too neatly, and that part of the point of life was its messiness, its refusal to be wrapped up. Brett always took the advice with a grain of salt—it was probably Bree’s excuse for a messy room, or for breaking up with boys she’d dated without actually telling them.”

“(Brett) “Making friends?”She jerked, then her spine straightened into posture nuns would be proud of and she turned her head. “He’s hard to resist, really.” Another belly rub. “You’re late.”He crouched down to sit on his heels, and his knees spanned to either side of her arms. Reaching around, he scratched Beans behind the ears. Brett was positive the dog actually sighed with happiness. “I’ve been here, just didn’t think to look for you on the floor.”

“Watching a make-out while wrapped in a blanket with a guy she wanted to make out with made her feel exposed. Obvious. Transparent. Like her thoughts were flashing before his eyes.Finally Brett managed to pull away without consent of Bekka's lips. The confusion created a sloppy bite-a-juicy-peach sound. Everyone cringed.”