“If this were the fifties, she’d be checking Sam’s collars for lipstick stains. (Did people do that anymore? Why did women kiss collars, anyway? Besides, Sam almost always wore T-shirts.)”

“I don’t have a blue-collar job. It’s more of a green collar, because of all the yellow sweat stains mixing in.”

“You may look around, and see two groups here. White collar, blue collar. But I don’t see it that way. You know why not? Because I am collar-blind.”

“Whenever I see people with their collars up, I'm tempted to point it out to them like you would for someone who has a food stain on their shirt or food in their teeth, as if to say, 'Your fashion sense is so offensive I'm assuming it's some sort of accident you'll want to fix.”

“Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look..." Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt. "Leave your cloths on, Tori," Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. "Please.”

“He smirked and that was it. I propelled myself forward and into his arms, our mouths instantly locking in a frenzied kiss, my hands grasping his collar, his shirt, his hair, his anything.”