“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.”

“Was her whole life going to be like this now, avoiding certain songs or music that reminded her of her mistakes? Billie Holiday made her think of Eric Dalton; Iron & Wine was Jeremiah; and if things didn’t work out with Kara, she’d never be able to listen to Bob Dylan again. By the time she reached her twenties, she’d be a huge, lumbering mass of musical baggage.”

“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.”

“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?”

“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.”

“She didn’t want to be one of those girls who said the exact opposite of what she meant, but still—it would have been nice to see Easy try.”

“Give a girl a boyfriend and she becomes a total expert on relationships”