Patsy

“How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” he answered promptly.
“And how long have you been seventeen?”
His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.”
― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

“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…made…me…faint,” I accused him dizzily.
“What am I going to do with you?” he groaned in exasperation. “Yesterday I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!”
I laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun.
“So much for being good at everything,” he sighed.
“That's the problem.” I was still dizzy. “You're too good. Far, far too good.”
― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

“Most of what I say is complete truth. My edit button is broken.”
― Myra McEntire, Hourglass