“SERIOUSLY? Is it because of Jesus? Are you, like, saving yourself for him?” Sex seemed simpler for Kelsey. She had the body of a Barbie and the sexually-charged brain of a teenage boy. “No, Kelsey,” I said. “It would be a little difficult to save myself for someone who died over two thousand years ago.”

“Honey, right now you look like someone's adorable little sister. No guy wants to screw his little sister. And if he does, you don't want to be near him.”

“She pulled her blonde hair back into a high ponytail, which somehow drew even more attention to her chest. "I don't mean the right guy to marry, honey. I mean the right guy to get your blood pumping. To make you turn off your analytical, judgmental, hyperactive brain and think with your body instead.""Bodies can't think.""SEE!" She said. "Analytical. Judgmental.”

“I had no one, but Hamlet. Who hated me with the fire of a thousand suns.”

“Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled.She snapped the box closed.She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She didn’t faint.There might have been a little crying.But mostly… she danced.”

“I was going to be so terrible at this… the worst he’d ever had probably. And then he’d never want to see me again (and I really wanted to see him again). I’d probably be traumatized and never want to have sex again, which meant every relationship for the rest of my life would fail, and I would end up alone and miserable with nine cats and a ferret.”

“Sex.I was going to have sex.With a boy.A hot boy.A hot BRITISH boy.Or maybe I was going to throw up.What if I threw up on the hot British boy?What if I threw up on the hot British boy DURING SEX?”