I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.

So what do you wear to dump somebody?" she asked me, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. "Black, for mourning? Or something cheerful and colorful, to distract them from their pain? Or maybe you wear some sort of camouflage, something that will help you disappear quickly in case they don't take it well.

Not for the first time, I wished both of us could just say what we meant. But that, like so much else, was impossible

I think readers are just looking for things that maybe they recognize or can relate to in the books.

What were you two talking about?" she whispered as Wes pulls the door shut. Nothing," I said. "Running." You should have seen your face," she said, her breath hot in my ear. "Sa-woooon.

So finally, I decided that the best response — the safest — was none at all.

There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.