“He was hot. A nonhotboy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy...well.”

“Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.”

“I glanced again. He was still watching me.Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy... well.”

“Have I mentioned how hot Michael is? Hot, hot, hot. I mean, all guitar players are crushworthy - it's like it's issued with the talent - but I've been noticing lately that he is total Hottie McHottie of Hotland. Not that I could tell him that. Luckily, he is a boy. Hence, too dense to figure out why I'm staring at his ass.”

“He stared at his hot chocolate like it held the secret to the universe.”

“Sex.I was going to have sex.With a boy.A hot boy.A hot BRITISH boy.Or maybe I was going to throw up.What if I threw up on the hot British boy?What if I threw up on the hot British boy DURING SEX?”