“I'm not a little girl." And he'd never spoken to me like that. Not ever. "I don't know what your problem is, but unless you pay the rent on my house or wear the black suspenders at the Cinemark, you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“You don't know me. Don't ever think you know me. The only things you know about me are the things you made me do, and that illustrates your character, not mine.”

“You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.”

“And you still love Marc?""More than I can even explain. He's my rock—strong and steady, and ready for anything. He knows what I need before I know it, and he pushes me to work harder, and look deeper, and be better. He challenges me, and infuriates me, and he lights me on fire, deep in my soul. And he has never, ever let me down. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing keeping my heart beating. I love him so much that it feels like I'm dying a little bit every day that he won't smile at me. Or touch me.”

“Can I see it?" He blinked, still scowling, "See what?" "Your scar." His expression darkened like a sudden eclipse and I let my gaze grow cold. "You want to hear me scream? Give it your best shot. But until then, every time you take off your shirt, you may as well be handing out my business card. I shoved my blade deep inside you and loved every single inch of it. When I can't sleep at night, the memory of you screaming like a little bitch is my lullaby. And everybody knows exactly what that scar means- that you got your ass handed to you by a little girl. Again.”

“My stomach flip-flopped, and I let his words play over in my head. “So, no costume?”Tod shrugged. “Nah. Don’t get me wrong—it’s hot. But it’s hot in an obvious kind of way. It’s not really you.”I frowned. “Because I’m not obviously sexy?”“Because you are obviously sexy. Some girls may need costumes to make guys want them, but I couldn’t possibly want you morethan I do right now, no matter what you were wearing. Or not wearing.”I stared up at him. “How is it possible that every time you open your mouth, I—” fall more in love with you “—melt a little more?”

“What are you gonna say?" Emma asked. " 'I'm not sure I want you back, but I'm sure I don't want your ex-con ex-girlfriend to have you, either'? Yeah. That'll start this little triangle off on the right foot.”