What?" I asked uneasily. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He shook his head, the smile rueful now. "Because sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. It's not just the dress or the hair. It's YOU. You're beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me.

Ah, those two. In a fight, they’re lethal. Around each other, they melt.

You and me are going to have so much fun, Rose. Picking out curtains, doing each other's hair, telling ghost stories.

Well. Like I said, I dont want to fight anymore. I dont want us to hate each other. And ... well ... I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them. No matter how I fee about us ... I want you to be happy

And sometimes, if I was really, really lucky, he’d smile at me. A real smile, too—not the dry one that accompanied the sarcasm we tossed around so often. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone—not to Lissa, not even to myself—but some days, I lived for those smiles.

You have the patience of a saint," I grumbled, slouching into a chair. "And besides, you don't hang out with him 24/7." "Neither will you. It's only 24/6." "Same difference. It might as well be 24/10." She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense.

I haven’t even really tried to win you over, Roza. When I want to, I can be very persuasive.