“You are the opposite of romantic. Did anyone ever tell you that?""I am full of romance. I like sunsets and the ocean and beaches and flowers and love songs and Shakespeare in the park and all that kind of shit." Eli's cheeks flushed. It was adorable on him. "I don't get what any of that has to do with sex.""I'm not talking about sex, Eli. I'm talking about a kiss.""Fine. I'll kiss the romantic fuck out of you.”

“Blaire, I’m not a romantic guy. I don’t kiss and cuddle. It’s all about the sex for me. You deserve someone who kisses and cuddles. Not me. I just fuck, baby. You aren’t meant for someone like me.”

“Yeah, because I'm extremely romantic here. You know what is my fear? This postmodern, permissive, pragmatic etiquette towards sex. It's horrible. They claim sex is healthy; it's good for the heart, for blood circulation, it relaxes you. They even go into how kissing is also good because it develops the muscles here – this is horrible, my God! It's no longer that absolute passion. I like this idea of sex as part of love, you know: 'I'm ready to sell my mother into slavery just to fuck you for ever.' There is something nice, transcendent, about it. I remain incurably romantic.”

“Because I-I'm someone who wants to kiss you. Be with you." Eli says as if it is obvious, as if I know what is written on his heart.”

“I need to kiss you," he says again, this time a desperate plea. "Please, Sky. I'm scared that after I tell you what I'm about to tell you...I'll never get to kiss you again.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you're completely inappropriate?""They have. And you know, I had a little talk with myself about it. It turns out I'm cool with it.”