“He was still a douchecanoe. The douchecanoe who was going to paddle me to safety.”

“Well, the flannel-coated pussy stealer won’t be taking care of her for much longer,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. She looked at me blankly. Perhaps she didn’t appreciate her sister being referred to as “pussy”. I cleared my throat. “I meant flannel-coated…ginger douche.”She dipped her chin and said dryly, “Dude, the term is douchecanoe.”

“I still can't believe you kicked me.""I didn’t want to. I needed to."I glance at him as we leave the dorms, "Keep telling yourself that."He grins his cocky, shitty grin, "Keep telling yourself the paddle doesn’t turn you on."I snort and hate that he knows so much about me. My cheeks are on fire just hearing the word paddle.”

“Safety from what? Who's after me?"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.”

“Where are we going? (Astrid)Up Shit Creek sans the paddles. (Zarek)”

“I'm struck with the realization that I'm holding onto a man who, for now, is holding onto me but he has still not let go of her.”