Look at him,” she said, shaking her head. “Travis Maddox: Mr. Mom.

I can't win with you. I can't win with you! You say you're done...I'm fucking miserable over here! I had to break my phone into a million pieces to keep from calling you every minute of the damn day--I've had to play it off like everything is just fine at school so you can be happy...and you're fucking mad at me? You broke my fuckin' heart!

Jesus, Shep. I told you . . .”
“I know what you said. You have eighteen missed calls.”
“All Trent?”
“One is from Panty Wearers Anonymous.

So how you’re gonna play this?” Trenton asked.
“Divide and conquer.”
“Divide what?”
“His head from the rest of his body.”
Trenton nodded quickly. “Good plan.

I don’t understand you, Pigeon. I thought I knew women, but you’re so fucking confusing I don’t know which way is up.”
“I don’t understand you, either. You’re supposed to be Eastern’s ladies’ man. I’m not getting the full freshmen experience they promised in the brochure,” I teased.

I said no strippers," I said, watching dumbfounded as Trenton danced around the room to Britney Spears.