it's just another way to die

I think every now and then about Sean’s thumb pressed against my wrist and daydream about him touching me again. But mostly I think about the way he looks at me – with respect – and I think that’s probably worth more than anything.

...the sound of our lack of conversation amplified by the echo of our footsteps on the stone around us.

I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.

"After you were bitten, i knew what would happen. I waited for you to change, every night, so i could bring you back and keep you from getting hurt." "How long did you wait?" "I haven't stopped."

There is a little narrowing to his eyes at the end of it that makes me understand that this is a test. Whether or not I'm brave enough to go into the stall with Corr after yesterday morning, after I've had time to think about what happened. The thought of it makes my pulse trip. The question is not if I trust Corr. The question is if I trust Sean.

I wasn't sure if I admired him for feeling everything so hard and fiercely, or if I was contemptuous of him for having so much emotion that he had to spill it out every window of the house.