The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.

I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.

And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It's the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.

For a moment, my heart aches for him. I should never have asked him to join me here; I should never have asked him to cross.

Sometimes I'm afraid to go to sleep because of what I'm leaving behind.

Hunky Heroes, rescuing distressed women, captive princesses, and girls without wheels since 1684. p. 450

I keep having the urge to cross my hands over my chest, to cover up my breasts, to hide. I'm suddenly aware of how pale I look in the sunshine, and how many moles I have spotting up and down my chest, and I just know he's looking at me thinking i'm wrong or deformed. But the he breathes, 'Beautiful' and when his eyes meet mine I know that he really, truly means it.