I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.

When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.

With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.

I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.

The whole thing's illusion, [Jacob], and there's nothing wrong with that. It's what people want from us. It's what they expect.

Being the survivor stinks.

When did I stop being me?