Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.

Is this seat taken?"
The deep, gravelly voice jolted Noelle from her blood-thirsty thoughts. When she laid eyes on the man it belonged to her breath caught in her throat.
She blinked, wondering if maybe she'd dreamed him, but then he flashed her a captivating grin and she realized that he must be real - her mind wasn't capable of conjuring up a smile this heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
A pair of vivid blue eyes watched her expectantly as she searched for her voice.
"There are lots of other seats available," she finally replied, gesturing to the deserted tables all around them.
He shrugged. "I don't want to sit anywhere but here."
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "Why?"
"Because none of those other seats are across from you," he said simply.

Just out of curiosity,” she says, “after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or two?”

“Two,” I reply cheerfully.

“Do you high five yourself?”

“Of course not.” I smirk. “I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the ceiling and thank the big man upstairs for creating such a perfect male specimen.

Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know how you ever lived without them.

Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he begs. “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.

How did I go so long without noticing you, damn it? Why did it take seeing a stupid A on your midterm to make me notice?”
He sounds so genuinely upset that I scoot closer and kiss him. “It doesn’t matter. You know me now.”
“I do,” he says fiercely.