As a rule, I don't enjoy being tossed into closets and having the door shut on my face, but I knew he was protecting me.

He hadn’t been peeping intentionally; he’d been trying to sneak into my room. So that was slightly less creepy, I supposed.

Don’t be a hero,” I told him sternly. “Protect yourself.

Oh yeah. That's why. Like a fairy tale. I was marrying the Prince. I just happened to be in love with the pauper.

I only saw fire and chandeliers and smoke. No people. Not the room. Not even a time frame. Do you know how many chandeliers there are in the south wing alone? What was I supposed to do? Tell everyone to avoid chandeliers forever?

I think I draw most inspiration from writers like Richelle Mead and filmmakers like John Hughes. They both really understand the experience of being a teenager and how insistent and intense everything feels, but they're also smart, savvy, and fun.

I don't want only one night. I want all the nights. I want all of you, forever.