But beauty is cheap, Agatha. Cheap and bountiful.

Baz tries to elbow her back. "Put on your seat belt!" "But I made a road trip playlist!""Are you trying to kill us all before we can listen to it?

He looks like some sort of disgraced angel. (I suppose that'd be a demon.)

I don’t think you’re supposed to raise it while you’re driving,” I say.“But they always do it in music videos”—he yanks at the other side—“and Bond films.

I tought I looked cool behind the wheel, I wasn't prepared for Baz. I wouldn't be able to look away from him, if there wasn't so much else to take in.

Simon's beautiful in battle: He never stops. You never see him plan his next move. He doesn't plan, he just moves.

A month ago, I would have walked to the sofa and touched his shoulder. Three months ago, I would have dropped a kiss on his cheek. Last September, when he and Bunce first moved into this flat, I would have had to pull my mouth away from his to ask the question, and he might not have let me finish.

I’m the most basic bitch possible.

Simon catches up with me and traps me against the car. He’s kissing me before I see it coming, bending me back over the boot. “You were amazing,” he says, taking a breath. “You didn’t even need a wand.

He looks away from me, covering his mouth.“What are you laughing at.”He looks down, but waves his hand at me. “You—your—”I refuse to look down at myself. “My what, Snow?”“Your hair.”I refuse to touch my hair.“You look like that guy, with the wig—” He mimes playing the piano. “Duh, duh, duh, duhhh.”“Beethoven?”“I don’t know his name. With the big wig. There was a film about him.”“Mozart. You’re saying I look like Mozart.”“You’ve got to look, Baz, it’s a scream.