“Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel when I’m around you: confused, but still satisfied.' I freeze, trying to figure out how to cancel it out and replace it with something that sounds a whole lot less like sex and a candy bar ad.”

“I spent that whole damn day wandering around the city trying to figure out how to tell how much I loved you without sounding like an idiot.”

“And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”

“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”

“Now, can I help you with something? I’m new, but I’ll do my best to figure out how to get what you need.”…“That’s good to hear, Abby, since I need your breasts for a few minutes.”

“I am both happy and sad at the same time, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”