Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Alison's bedroom.
I know, but I have to talk to Mrs. Montgomery.
About what? His hair?
Have you been working out?
Why am I even talking to you? Just turn around, sketchy.
Look, I'll tell you what.
Stop looking at the eye. Just look at the picture.
Don't worry, he went to Philly to be with Melissa.
Like Emily.
No, Alison is in the picture, she clearly didn't take that.
So sorry to interrupt. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Potter's housekeeper.
- a lot of people are gonna get hurt. - Is Mrs. Montgomery running a terrorist cell?
It's possible.
Well, it's only fair. I mean, I was the one who suggested that we buy a used car with a kill switch.
Because being so into the breast stroke could really end up hurting you.
- I know it sounds stupid. - No, it doesn't.
What is spirit?
Oh, you know, the usual. Chick flick, popcorn, cosmo quiz, lights out.
Coach Walton, whatever happened between us, it's over now.
Some snarky comment about me being gay.
All right? It's fine, I'll drive you.
- That's not what this is about. - Really?
Really? It didn't sound that way on the phone.
- Last night... - Last night was one of the best nights of my life.
I can deal with the universe throwing me curve balls,
Sounds like she makes dreamcatchers in her kitchen.
Looks like somebody ate their wheaties this morning.
But Ian's a triathlete. He's the poster boy for preppy.
I'm not proud of it, but that whole August is a blur.
- Hey, where are you? - You look good.
You know, I heard, but I also saw you complete the six-hour dance marathon on Saturday.