“Let me take you home,” it read. I clicked my music off, glancing over and seeing his phone in his hand, too—the same text visible. “No,” I typed back. I couldn’t let him take me home. Not ever. I tried to pull away from his hand, but he clasped it tightly. “Let me take you home,” he typed again.”
“I would never stop touching you,” he said, his voice almost tired. “And I would touch only you.”
“It's unfortunate that the more annoyed she gets, the prettier she looks.”
“ಬಹುಶಃ ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಪರಿಭಾಷೆಯೆ ಅಂಥಹದ್ದು. ಯೋಚನೆಗೆ ಸಿಲುಕದ, ಅರಿವಿಗೆ ನಿಲುಕದ ದರವೇಸಿ ಗಾಳಿಪಟದಂತಹದ್ದು. ~”
“She’s either a witch or she’s crazier than a featherbrained hen without a roost.”