“Come on, pretty boy,” he taunts. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“What do you see in a guy like Christian Prescott?" he asked me that night when he dropped me off from prom. And what he was really saying then, what would have come through loud and clear if I hadn't been so blind was, why don't you see me?”

“It's been nice knowing you, Clara.'Huh? My brain still a bit shell-shocked.'Say a prayer for me, will you? He gives me a shaky grin. Because I'm pretty sure my parents are going to kill me”

“This is isn't going to become one of those creepy situations where you show up at all hours of the night to watch me sleep, is it?" he asks playfully.”

“But maybe if he got close to me I could feel something. Maybe I could cry and the ache would go away.”

“I love how he sometimes gets embarrassed by the mushy stuff between us and then his voice gets all gruff and he tickles me or kisses me to shut us both up. Boy, do we ever kiss. We make out like champions.”

“Nice tree," he says.That boy has unexpected depth.”