"I don't want to be your chaos and I can't conform to your insane rulebook. I can't eat maple and brown sugar oatmeal every Saturday for the rest of my life. I don't Lay my clothes out a week in advance. I don't want a Palm Pilot to run my life. I hate that I own a cell phone. I hate that I'm attached to world every minute via email. I love my chaos."
Quinn glance around the room as if the perfect response was adrift on the cold night air, somehow tangible like the plumes of smoky, white breath filling the air between them.
"I don't want to be your pierced, alternative, artistic, girlfriend that you drag to dinner parties as an attraction or conversation piece. I'm not a sideshow freak."
Aislin met Quinn's eyes as they flashed with an appology and faded into regret.
"You'll just turn into another thing I have to survive."
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