“My eye roll is so intense, my head gets involved.”

“What is he planning to do with that quarter? Hurl it at my face and hope to put an eye out? With Romeo anything can become a weapon─love, trust . . . loose change.”

“It was like watching an angsty hormone-fueled train wreck and firmly cemented my resolve to be at least twenty-five before I considered getting hitched.”

“It’s only sixteen ninety-five," I say with a flutter of my lashes."You’re serious."I prop my hands on my waist and stick out a hip, striking a pose worthy of a supermodel. "Look at me. Don’t I look serious?"She collapses into the chair outside the dressing room in a fit of giggles so cute they make my insides fizz. "No! You must be stopped," she says."Why?" I strut down an aisle of yellowed lingerie, swiveling my hips, batting bras with flicks of my fingers. "I will be the king of the disco. I will be—" I spin and strike another pose. "An inspiration."She sniffs and swipes at her eyes. "The real Dylan would die before he’d be seen in public in something like that.""The real Dylan is boring." I brace my hands on the arms of her chair and lean down until our faces are a whisper apart. "And he’s not one fourth the kisser I am.""Is that right?" Her lips quirk."You know it is."Her smile melts, and her breath comes faster. "Yeah. I do.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?"His smile fades, but when I lay my hands on his chest he doesn't pull away. "No, I don't.""Me either," I say. "I think we'll need at least three days.""Three days?""To fall in love."His smile-his real smile, the crooked one that lights him up from the inside out-breaks across his face. He throws back his head and laughs. When he finishes, his arms are around me again and a familiar gleam is in his eyes. "You're very sure of yourself.""No, I'm sure of you." I curl my hands into his coat. "Of us”

“Think your mother will let me drive you to school tomorrow? Now that we're all friends and united by a belief in the careful use of contraception?"My cheeks burn, the memory of my mother's mortifying behavior distracting me for a moment. "Yes," I mumble. "I think so.”

“The myriad of flavors explode on my tongue, shimmy through my mouth, slap my taste buds and call them filthy bastards, and I love it.”