“You have this weird look on your face," he said. "Like you're doing really complicated math in your head.”

“Ryan stared at me as I pulled my phone out to see who was calling at this latehour. “You have the Fraggle Rock theme song as your ring tone,” he said, with abemused look on his face. “You are so weird.”

“Do you really think he was flirting with me?""Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs..." He looks at the CD. "All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.”

“... he said it felt like walking into another century, being there, looking up at the mullion windows, all darkened now, and the castellated towers that rose up out of the clutch of the ivy. "And you," he said, "you look like the heroine of a nineteenth-century novel, with your beautifully serious face and your grave, grey eyes. So do you have a suitably romantic story to tell?”

“I don't want to see you. I don't like you. I don't like your face. You look like an insufferable egotist. You're impertinent. You're too sure of yourself. Twenty years ago I would have punched your face with the greatest of pleasure.”

“You're making me nervous by being so weird. But your weirdness is what I like about you.”