“I don't believe in getting clothes that just look pretty or that'll fall apart—they have to stand up to a lot of abuse.”

“The only one," he murmured. His chin dipped a little bit. "You know that, Dru? You're the only person who's ever believed in me. You know what that'll do to a guy?"What?"I-""It makes him want to live up to it.”

“I don't even have moderately big breasticles. They just look like - well, nevermind what they look like. At least they stay strapped down when I worm into a sports bra.”

“First you find out what you have , Dad would say. Then you figure out how to make it work for what you need, 'cause you don't get what you want. You get just what you have and no more. ”

“And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.”

“Some of the djamphir are so pretty it almost hurts to look at them. And it was hard to look without feeling rumpled and messy in comparison.”

“Can I…I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don't, I, um, understand. I just—""Yes." The word bolted out of me. "Yes, please. Maybe I'll be able to sleep if you're here.”