Park was never going to love her more than he did on the day they said goodbye. And she couldn’t bear to think of him loving her less.

Holding Eleanor’s hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive. As soon as he touched her, he wondered how he’d gone this long without doing it. He rubbed his thumb through her palm and up her fingers, and was aware of her every breath.

Well,” she said. “I’m frustrated.” “Don’t make me angry-kiss you.” “Give me the laundry.” “Tempers rising, faces flushed … This is how it happens.

Hey,' he said. It came out hard and frustrated. 'I told you to smile because you're pretty when you smile.' She walked to the bottom of the steps, then looked back at him. 'It'd be better if you thought I was pretty when I don't.

I don’t want to kiss a stranger,” Cath would answer. “I’m not interested in lips out of context.

The me that's me right now is yours. Always.

But he kept finding new pockets of shallow inside himself. He kept finding new ways to betray her.