In fairy tales there's always one person who is made for one other, and they find each other and live happily ever after. Cal was my person. I couldn't imagine anyone more perfect. Yet what kind of sick fairy tale would it be if he was the one made exactly right for me and I wasn't right for him?

I didn't know where this stuff was coming from - all of a sudden I was a little magickal sprite, bonding with my stone, feeling my earth roots, la la la... All I can is describe the way it felt. And that was how it felt. So sue me. Was I swaying? I felt like I might be swaying.

But I also meant that loving someone really opening your heart to them is just asking to have your heart smashed and handed back to you in little pieces.

I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.

He seems so.. English sometimes, kind of distant or reserved, but then he'll look at me, and his eyes see right through to my soul.

Better stupid and safe that smart and dead.

Robbie turned to the house again. "Got a flashlight?" "Of course not." I smirked. "That would make me too well prepared, wouldn't it?