“I don’t think there’s a word for how I feel for you, but it’s somewhere between disdain and total boredom.” “Indifferent,” I offered charitably. He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “See? And everyone thinks you’re just a pretty face. Dylan Casablancas, a walking dictionary, ladies and gents.” “All I took from this is that you think I’m pretty, and while I agree, you don’t stand a chance. I’m done dating losers.” “That’s a bit of a pickle, sweetheart.” “Why?” “I doubt anyone who isn’t a loser would have you.”
