“I smiled at Peter with teeth clenched so tight, plaque could crumble off.”

“Then I guess the rest of my life will be resigned to doggy style sex." The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them. "I mean however long...when we're...that wasn't a fucking proposal.""Okay.""Don't smile that. Smugness doesn't become you.""Okay.""Scoot the fuck over. You're hogging the bed."Austin and Peter. :')”

“Peter to Austin: “Here are the facts, Austin. You’ve been engaged four times.You’ve cheated on every single one of them. You’re cruelsometimes and superficial and spoiled and really fucked upemotionally. You talk about my being inscrutable, but you treatnothing as if it matters to you. Something terrible happens? Youmake a joke and shrug it off. You feel too much? You get angryand lash out at me. So no, I’m not in love with you. I’m fightingit every fucking step! I just wish I could stop it.”

“Clean," Peter said."Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand. "No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."I had missed who Peter was until that very moment...I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless."Well, you look filthy," I said, hitting redial on his phone and jamming it to my ear.”

“When Peter said he was romantic, it was in the way that I was romantic. A blow job and an “I love you” before rolling over and falling asleep.”

“Let me know when you're done with this conversation. Peter needs his tongue bath. I mean sponge bath.”

“I looked at our hands, caked and coated in red, but entwined. The pristine moment when they were clasped like that earlier in the day seemed weeks ago."Clean." Peter said."Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand."No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.”