Cinderella never asked for a prince. She asked for a night off and a dress.

If she were (looking into my eyes), she’d have seen how absolutely floored I was the first time I finally, truly saw her. The clouds moved at just the right moment, fully lighting her face by the moon. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Underneath thick lashes were eyes blue as ice, something cool to balance out the flames in her hair. I felt a strange flutter in my chest, like the glow of a fireplace or the warmth of the afternoon. It stayed there for a moment, playing with my pulse.

Accepting help is its own kind of strength.

They'll kill you for doing this," I breathed in a brief moment when his lips traveled to my neck. "If I don't I'll die anyways.

She must have been debating staying in the line or forcing me to run home and change.

I was afraid I was wrong, that you would change your mind any second. I’ve been looking for a suitable alternative, but the truth is …”—Maxon looked me in the eyes again, unwavering—“there’s only you. Maybe I’m not really looking, maybe they aren’t right for me. It doesn’t matter. I just know I want you. And that terrifies me. I’ve been waiting for you to take back the words, to beg to leave.

It’s okay, Kriss. Have some pie,” Natalie offered.