“You’re a lot of things, Nell Hawthorne. You’re complex. You’re cute. You’re lovely. You’re funny. You’re strong. You’re beautiful.” She seems to be struggling with words and emotions. I keep going. “You’re tortured. You’re hurting. You’re amazing. You’re talented. You’re sexy as fuck.”
“Gotta say, baby,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful always but you’re seriously fuckin’ beautiful when you’re takin’ me.” …“Gotta say, darlin’,” I murmured back huskily. “You’re handsome always, but you’re seriously handsome when you’re giving it to me.”
“If you’re from a town called Away, when you’re home, you’re Away. But when you’re away, you’re not home.”
“You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.”
“Believe me, if you’re a teenager, you’re always in the damned woods. Literally, you’re in the woods — probably too much you’re in the woods. And metaphorically you’re in the woods, in your life.”
“you’re going to miss me, but you’re not going to admit it”