“Not my fault you're distractingly pretty.”

“Not my fault that you’re distractingly pretty.”I have to take a minute to confirm to the pissed off part of my brain that still works that, yes, in fact, I did just say that. And I don’t know if distractingly is even a word. If it is, it’s a stupid one. Like me.”

“It's all my fault! Everything is my fault and no one knows it more than me. We're all in hell and I'm the one that put us here.”

“You know I meant it. I am human. And male. And not remotely blind. Do you want me to say it again? You are distractingly, even if-that-is-not-a-real-word pretty. You are so pretty that I bullied Clay Whitaker into drawing me a picture of you so I could look at you when you aren't around. You are so pretty that one of these days I'm going to lose a finger in my garage because I can't concentrate with you so close to me. You are so pretty that I wish you weren't so I wouldn't want to hit every guy at school who looks at you, especially my best friend.”

“Good morning, Sunshine!' Josh Fucking Bennett. By now, I'm pretty sure that if I was to find his birth certificate, that is exactly what it would say.”

“Good Morning, Sunshine!" Josh F**king Bennett. By now, I'm pretty sure that if I were to find his birth certificate that is exactly what it would say.”

“Depends on how badly you want it. It's worth whatever you're willing to pay for it.”