At long last, she gasped out, "It’s Seth." "What happened?" I demanded. "Is he okay?" "He ended it." Her crying renewed. "He broke the engagement and told me it was over.

Come on outside when youʹre done,ʺ I told her. ʺItʹs like the barbecue of the damned. Except . . . thereʹs no grill.

Can't you ever get off for good behavior?" "Sure, if I was ever good.

The Alchemists’ beliefs are my beliefs,” I say quickly. She arched an eyebrow. “Are they? I would hope your beliefs would be your beliefs.” I’d never thought about it that way before, but I suddenly hoped desperately that her words were true.

I'd accepted a while ago that there were too many reasons for me to even think about him romantically anymore. Every once in a while, I slipped a little and kind of wished he would too. It'd have been nice to know that he still wanted me, that I still drove him crazy. Studying him now, I realized he might not ever slip because I didn't drive him crazy anymore. It was a depressing thought.

I don’t belong to anyone. I make my own choices." "And you’re with Adrian," said Dimitri. "But I was meant for you.

What was love, really? Flowers, chocolate, and poetry? Or was it something else? Was it being able to finish someone's jokes? Was it having absolute faith that someone was there at your back? Was it knowing someone so well that they instantly understood why you did the things you did—and shared those same beliefs?