“But my stomach starts constricting because I MIGHT HAVE WANTED IT TO BE A DATE. I mean, what is that? Dates lead to commitment and commitment leads to temporary insanity and temporary insanity leads to full on mental illness—picking out china patterns, choosing museums to get married in—and ends with two fucked-in-the head sons and a dad trying to hold it together when he’s just as fucked-in-the-head as they are.So no, I definitely don’t want it to have been a date.”

“I don’t know how in the fuck we got here, but somehow this game is more real than anything else.And I want it.I fucking want it.”

“Tegan leans forward, pressing his lips to mine too quickly for my taste. "Because." Another kiss. "You're." Oh, one more. "My girl." Two kisses this time. "And it doesn't feel right for you to pay me for us to work out together. Because I want to be able to kiss you when I want and I can't do that if you're my client."At least I think that's what he said. I'm not sure I caught anything after him telling me I'm his girl."I am? Your girl, I mean?"He gives my waist a squeeze and I suck in my stomach. "I thought so, unless you're only using me for my make-out abilities.""You're so -""Conceited. I know. But you like it.”

“It's okay.' I rubbed my stomach.'These abs have been known to bring down much tougher girls. I won't tell anyone you want me.”

“Maybe I don't deserve to ask you this, but I'm going to anyway. I want another chance. I want us to be together, with nothing in between us. No need, no pain, hurt, fear. I want us together because we want to be. Because we love each other. I'll never leave you again.”

“You're doing fucking awesome, Colt whispers in my ear and I can't help but smile at that. Only he would use the word 'fuck' at my mom's funeral.”

“This isn’t a fucking game anymore. No charades here. I don’t know exactly what to call it, but whatever it is, it’s ours. I’m going to latch onto it. And never let go.”