“How would you know?" I demanded, splashing water in Harrison's face. "You were watching him, too.""Too!" he cried. "I got you! Ha. You just admitted you were watching him. You love him. You so love him.”

“I don't like him," I explained. "He annoys the hell out of me ninety-six percent of the time, and sometimes I'd like nothing better than to strangle him to death. But at the same time I... I want him to be happy. I think about him way more than I should, and I -""You love him.”

“I wanted to make sure you were fine...and that he was okay, too. You didn't, like, stab the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering hotties, but if you need help burying the body, you know I'll bring the shovel.”

“Because I want to see you with someone better than him. Someone who will see how lucky they are to have you.”

“I don't really do friends,' I told him.'Good,' he said. 'I don't want you to "do" me. We've established the flaws in that plan already...”

“Maybe if you could put him on mute… and cut off his hands… maybe—just maybe—he’d be tolerable then.”

“Joe!' he called. 'Hey, honey, can you get the pretty girl a Coke?''Only if you stop calling me *honey*,' the bartender, a bearded man in his thirties, replied. 'We've had this discussion before, Harrison.''Aw, Joe. It's so cute that you think I listen.”