“You’re a man, darling. There’s something sick and twisted inside you, making you relish girly torture. I don’t understand it myself. Never did.”

“Love is a funny thing; there’s the kind that’s like you’re five and you’re looking up at your Mum’s face as she reads you a bedtime story.Then there’s the kind that makes you nervous and twists in your stomach.Then there’s the kind that makes you feel like you’re holding everything of worth in your hands.”

“I understand that you can never have the whole picture; inevitably, there’s stuff you don’t know, can’t know. But when it comes to Cameron I always want more than I have, would like to be able to take hold of at least one or two more pieces, if only because I’m convinced there are parts of myself inside them.”

“You’re not a whore. You’re a chick who hasn’t exactly grown up with every advantage, and you’ve learned to use what you’ve got. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s second nature. You act girly and helpless and make men think you’re harmless.”

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”

“I don’t understand you, Pigeon. I thought I knew women, but you’re so fucking confusing I don’t know which way is up.”“I don’t understand you, either. You’re supposed to be Eastern’s ladies’ man. I’m not getting the full freshmen experience they promised in the brochure,” I teased.”