Ginger

“Aw, did you just fall?"
"No." I rolled onto my back, wincing. "I attacked the floor.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Pure

“Thanks,” I muttered and added under my breath, “Douchebag.”

He laughed, deep and throaty. “Now that’s not very ladylike, Kittycat.”

I whipped around. “Don’t ever call me that,” I snapped.

“It’s better than calling someone a douchebag, isn’t it?” He pushed out the door. “This has been a stimulating visit. I’ll cherish it for a long time to come.”

Okay. That was it. “You know, you’re right. How wrong of me to call you a douchebag. Because a douchebag is too nice of a word for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. “You’re a dickhead.”

“A dickhead?” he repeated. “How charming.”

I flipped him off.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian

“You know what, you need to stay out of my bedroom. You have your own.”
He smiled. “I know I do. I see it quite often. I just prefer your bed. It smells better.”
I made a face. “It smells better? What does your bed smell like? Regret and bad taste?”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Pure

“So? What are you going to do about it? Throw your mashed potatoes at me? I'm consumed by terror.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Half-Blood