That buy is totally cracked out," Vic said one day, as we walked past Balthazar in the great hall. I don't think he's on alything." I didn't mean, for real. If he was cracked out for real, he'd probably be having more fun, right?" Vic shrugged. "Balty looks like he's not having any fun. He looks like he never had any. Like he wouldn't know fun if it started dancing around yelling 'I'm fun' in his face.

I didn’t tell him. He found out. Basically, he caught me coming in after the last time you and I saw each other. But he won’t give us away, Lucas. He’s even willing to help us see each other, as long as we help him with Charity.” “What, like, a fund-raiser or something?” I’d forgotten he didn’t know her name. “The vampire girl in Amherst.” “Wait—Charity? That’s her name? You were able to figure out who she is.” He smiled so proudly that all the tension of the moment instantly melted. “I fell in love with a genius.

I always kinda liked our attic ghost. When I was a kid, I used to go up there and read stories to it. Show it my new toys. It's just an old spirit stuck between the worlds, right? What's to be scared of?"" ~Vic

Lucas," I repeated. "I know you can hear me. The guy I love is still in there. Come back to me." Once again longed for the release of tears. "Death couldn't keep me from you. And it can't keep you from me, not if you don't let it.

For my own good. Anytime anyone had ever used those words to me, they hadn't had the slightest clue what ‘my own good’ truly was

Lucas should've run out of there that instant. Instead he stared at me through the glass and slowly unfolded his hand opposite mine so that our hands were pressed againts the pane of glass, fingers to fingers, palm to palm. We each move closer, so that our faces were only inches apart. Even with the stained glass, window between us, it felt as intimate as any kiss we'd shared.

It’s funny—when people call you “shy,” they usually smile. Like it’s cute, some funny little habit you’ll grow out of when you’re older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt—really being shy, not just unsure at first—they wouldn’t smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense. It’s not cute at all.