“Where's your kilt?""How about this," he said in a low voice. "You don't ask me about haggis and bagpipes, and I won't ask you about garlic and Goodfellas.”
“What the fuck do you want?" After a pause, he said in a firm voice, "This is Dylan Keeley, the guy who would've killed to trade places with you until five minutes ago." He met my eyes. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now why don't you go back to screwing your prom queen and let me do the same.”
“How about, 'I just kissed a guy at Black Weeds because you've been ignoring me. P.S. I love you.”
“I promise I'll never tell.""Don't promise that," he said in an ultraserious voice. "If they try to hurt you and the only way to protect yourself is to tell them what you know about me, then you tell them. Straight off, okay?""No." "Promise me.""No!""I will possess your heart."Heat flared along the back of my neck. "What did you say?""My favorite song. 'I Will Possess Your Heart.'""By Death Cab for Cutie?"He snorted. "No, the little known T.I. Hip-hop remix. Yes, Death Cab for Cutie."... "Why? What's wrong with it?""Nothing, but it doesn't seem to fit you. It's kind of a sad song." "No it's pure confident. It's not 'I want' or 'I need', none of that crap." He slipped his hand over mine. "It's 'I will.'"A nervous laugh bubbled up. "You will, huh?"His fingers brushed my cheek, then slid into my hair. "I will.”
“I hate when people act like music is nothing but wild creativity," Logan said. "That's bullshit. It's also about counting and measuring and calibrating. If you do it right." He passed his hand over my MP3 player sitting on the bed between us. It was playing Mozart to help my concentration. "And if you do it really right, no one can tell how hard it is for you. You can let them believe it's magic, because that means you must be magic. You're worth worshipping.”
“I’ve been writing more songs in my head,” he said, “about being a ghost and a shade.” His face turned smooth and solemn. “How I’d die all over again just to touch you.”