“See?" I crowed. "I know what I'm doing. Two weeks, tops, and you'll be begging to dip your fries in my shake.""You think?" It took me about a second before I realized I'd done it again. My mouth seriously needed a chaperone.”

“I realized my hands were in my pockets. He couldn't hold one even if he wanted to. Not unless he actively dug it out, which would be weird. He probably thought I was sending him a specific message not to hold my hand.I took my hands out of my pockets.The problem is I like having my hands in my pockets. It's my natural position. They felt unwieldy hanging by my sides, as if I was walking like a Neanderthal. Why was I so bad at this?”

“Sometimes, but if you do it enough, it's harder to trip your gag reflex, which comes in very handy, if you know what I mean." I did know what she meant, but somehow juxtaposing it with vomiting made the whole thing highly unappealing.”

“Archer pressed a preset button on my car radio. An old Britney Spears song blared, and I sung along to every word, bopping in my seat. Archer just looked at me."Oh, come on!" I said. "Who doesn't sing along to Britney?”

“Villanelle for my valentineOld love, I thought I'd never see the timebecause of all we've done and often saidwhen I'd be yours, my dear, and you'd be mine.And what relief to soften, and resignthe battle of the heart over the head.old love, I thought I'd never see the timewhen qualms and cold feet that could undermineall we've held out for, dissipate insteadnow that I'm yours, my dear and you are mine.I'm still amazed how our two lives alignthe two of us! A pair! Take it as read,old love, I thought I'd never see the timeThe tangle of our jumpers in the line,the battle for the blankets in our bedconfirm that I am yours, and you are mine.So then, this is my pledge, my valentine:my hand's in yours for all that lies ahead.Oh love, there's never been a better timenow that I'm yours, and finally, you're mine.”

“One of the cashiers had taken to calling out, "Hey, Clark!" as I came in and marking my exit with "It's a bird, it's a plane, it's SuperGoth!" This was not only tiresome but inaccurate. There's a huge difference between goth and emo, but I never had the time or energy to give him a tutorial.”

“Know what you get when you rearrange the letters in Nate Wetherill? HATE WILL ENTER.”