Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)

by Rainbow Rowell

I don’t know how to make it any more clear to him. I lie here on the sofa. And I don’t have any plans. And I don’t have any promise. And this is what I am. Baz fell in love with what I was—power and potential unchecked. Nuclear bombs are nothing but potential.

Lesson learned: Relaxation is the most insidious humdrum.

“Thirty-one hours to San Diego?!” “That can’t be right,” Penny says. “That’s like driving from London to Moscow. Let me see.” Baz has been looking at her phone, and she takes it back. “But it’s the same country,” she says.

Knowing is better than telling.

Go ahead and shoot me. This isn’t my favourite shirt.