“How much of my fever-induced dream was real? I felt safe assuming that my time as a bee was fiction, as well as a few mythological animals that I swear I'd seen. Then I'd lived on the sun with aliens.”

“Someone's an easy grader.""Someone just has a soft spot where you are concerned." He was leaning down towards me and even though his face was a good foot away from me, I swear I felt those words like he'd whispered them into my ear.”

“He looked at me, finally. I wanted to believe I saw softness in his eyes, but I could have imagined it. I did that all the time. All I had to do was close my eyes and I could see him reaching toward me, his lips millimeters from my own. But always… always I opened my eyes and it wasn’t real.”

“There was Bartender Boy, but he wouldn't get off until well after 2 A.M. I was a nervous wreck already, so if this dragged on till the wee hours of the morning, I'd be completely psychotic. I could just imagine it . . . straight-jacketed due to sex.”

“Oh, I burned it with my straightener.”“You burned your leg with your straightener? How long is your leg hair?”

“Four. That’s the number of people who saw me hiding around the corner from my own apartment in just a skirt and a bra. Eleven. That’s the number of ant bites I got on my shoeless feet. Twenty-seven. That’s the number of times I was tempted to do myself physical harm because I am an IDIOT. One. That’s the number of times I tried not to cry, but failed.”

“Heaven help me, but I wanted my professor to be my boyfriend.”