“Don’t interrupt my anxiety attack. It’s rude.”

“I’m done, Travis.”“Don’t say that.”“It’s over. Go home.”“You’re my home.”

“It’s a Harley Night Rod. She’s the love of my life, so don’t scratch the paint when you get on.”

“I don’t get hit that often. If they swing, I move. It’s not that hard”

“No, it’s not okay. You said you wanna be friends, but we can’t hang out?” I rolled my eyes, and Travis huffed. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. Are you coming or not?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s hard not to notice when fifty drunks are chanting your name.”

“I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”“You’re closer to her type than you know,” America said.”