Can’t clean up after you anymore, baby brother, so don’t punk out. Make it count.
You don’t fuck with fate, Oz, because she’ll ass-rape you with no lube, wearing a spiked dildo.
She's fifteen!" Nash shrugged. "That's just a number. It doesn't say anything about her." "It says something pretty damn funny about your IQ!" I said, and he opened his mouth to retort, but I spoke over him. "Fifteen is too young to drive, too young ...
Because seeing someone’s heart ripped out, presumably for the first time, is something a person should accept naturally, like finding out there’s no Santa Clause.
But if there was a protocol for how to say goodbye to your newly ex-boyfriend's brother, right after you kissed him and probably sent your ex into the arms of his willing ex-girlfriend, I didn't know what it was.