“She wondered if she had grown obsessed with sex. She admitted to thinking about it almost all the time. ... "And if I'm not thinking about sex, I'm thinking about death," she added bitterly. "Sometimes both at the same time.”

“Emma laughed, even though she wanted to cry and scream and run away all at the same time. Jake put his arms around her, and she felt calmer. He has a mellowness that rubs off on people, Emma has noticed. But it's not just being mellow. There is something kind about him. He knows when people need him, she thinks. He knows that she needs him.”

“How could she not know he was thinking about sex? he wondered. It was all he'd been thinking about for the last eighteen hours, give or take a few minutes spent thinking about keeping them both alive. Oh, yeah, and twice he'd thought about food, once about her mother, and once he'd checked to make sure he had an extra mag for his Glock.”

“She didn't give a damn about some of them, but she had grown to learn that inattention can be a stratagem to avoid pain, and that it is often misread as shallowness and indifference.”

“I don't think I'm the type who falls in love. She was a friend. And we had good sex.”

“Oh come on, Emma. Admit it. You were dreaming about having sex with me. I must've been good if you were about to come."She snorted exasperatedly. "I'm surprised you're even asking about how good you were. Don't you always think you're amazing?”

“If you're right & I'm not, I'm going to be hell to live with, she said. So, you better think about that next time you want to be right. ”