“‘I’m going to sleep in your bed,’ he says, like it’s a legal declaration.
‘All right.’
‘Until you tell me you don’t want me to.’
‘Or until you don’t want to,’ I say.
‘That might be never, Snow.’”
“‘All I really know is that nothing I’ve experienced so far compares to you. Maybe that makes me gay.’ He swallows. ‘Or maybe that just makes me yours.’”
“I’ve never hated him more. I want to break my knuckles on his chin, I want to cast off his tongue, I want to shove him down a thousand flights of stairs—and then I want to catch him.”