“I'm tired of this 'we better lay low, or someone will figure out we're different' crap. I mean, it's not like if I win a match people are going to say, who's that kid, he's a really good wrestler, he must be an angel.”

“She watched you wrestle Toby Jameson, who probably weighs two hundred pounds, without even working up a sweat. And she said to herself, wow, that's a good wrestler, he must be an angel.”

“Angela says that angel-bloods are supposed to be immune to cold. It helps with the flying at high altitudes, I guess." I shiver again. "I must not have gotten the memo." He smiles. "Maybe that power only applies to mature angel-bloods." "Hey, are you calling me immature?" "Oh no," he says, his smile blossoming into a full-blown grin. "I wouldn't dare." "Good. Because I'm not the one peeping into someone else's window.”

“Tucker: I'm glad it happened. because then I got to know who you really are.Clara: Oh yeah? Who am I? Tucker: A really, really spiritual, spoiled California chick.Avery: Shut up.Tucker: It's cool though. My girlfriend is an angel.”

“You think I'm pretty?" I ask. "We need to stop talking," he says a little gruffly. "We're scaring the fish off." "Okay, okay." I bite my lip, then smile.”

“Tucker," I say. "I'm so glad you're still here."I throw myself into his arms. He hugs me tightly."I couldn't leave," he says."I know.""I mean, literally. I don't have a ride.”

“I think he seriously believes that deflowering an angel could mean an eternity in fiery hell.”