“Baby, you've fucked my mind without touching my body.”

“My lasagne has been known to bring me to the knees.""Baby, it doesn’t take food for you to bring me to my knees.”

“And how old are you, Miss Beckett?” “Seventeen.” “What!” There is no way she’s seventeen. I inspect her face, studying it intently, but don’t know what it is I hope to find. Laugh lines maybe? She watches my face. “Is my age a problem for you?”“Hell, yeah, seventeen is a problem.” I throw my napkin on the table. All of this has been a waste. “Forget it all. This whole thing is off.” “I don’t act seventeen. I’m very mature for my age.”“No way. You’re not even old enough to be drinking that wine.” I lean in and whisper so no one will overhear. “I’m almost twice your age.” “I don’t mind. I have daddy issues.” She breaks into a huge grin and I hear a girlish giggle. That’s when I realize she’s fucking with me and has the ability to lie with a straight face. I’ll have to remember that for future reference. I’m not amused. “I see I have a comedienne on my hands.”

“When we're not together, I want to be. When we're not touching, I hold out hope for just the slightest, accidental graze. You're all I think about and it's because my whole world is falling for you. Hard.”

“You might as well be the devil.”“Baby, you’re the one holding the apple.”

“Oh, fuck me running! Or on the edge of your bed using your mouth.”

“Music is what feelings sound like out loud. I sing songs that speak from my heart. They tell my story, how I feel.”