No bacon for you."
"Then no eggs for you. Either of you."
Eve glowered at him. "Prisoner exchange?"
They glared at each other, then swapped pans and started scooping.

No, not you two. Stay here.'
'Does he just not get how unfair and sexist that is?' Eve asked. 'Men.'
'You really want to go first?'
'Of course no. But I'd like the chance to refuse to go first.

You're seriously going to worry about what people think right now?"
"No, I'm worrying about people taking pictures and putting them on Facebook. That crap never dies. Kind of like you, Mikey."
Michael, straight-faced, said, "He's got a point, because I would definitely take pictures. So would you."
Eve had to grin. "Yeah, I would. Okay, then. But you'd look glam. I could fix you up with silver eye shadow to match.

Both girls jumped at a hard blow on the door. Eve hastily unlocked the door and stepped back as it flew open, and Shane charged through.
“How—?’” He was breathing hard, and he had a crowbar in his hand. He’d have broken through the locks, Claire realized, if he’d had to. She came toward him slowly, trying to figure out what he was feeling, and he dropped the crowbar and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and the warm, fast pump of his breath on her skin made her shiver in raw delight. “Oh Christ, Claire. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’”
“Not your fault,’” Eve said. She held out the field hockey stick. “Look! I hit him. Um, twice.’”
“Good.’” Shane kissed Claire’s cheek and let her slide back down to the floor, but he kept hold of her arms. His eyes, bright under the bruises and swelling, surveyed her carefully. “He didn’t hurt you? Either of you?’”
“I hit him!’” Eve repeated brightly, and brandished the stick again for emphasis

And about Shane, I swear, if he doesn't snap out of it, I'm going to punch him in the face. Well, punch him in the face and then run like hell."
- Eve Rosser

Parents had some kind of sin radar, Claire thought. They always called when you were in the middle of something you just knew they'd consider wrong. Or at least risky.