Except...I do. Of course I do. Because as his hands gently cup my waist, I don't make a sound. As he swivels me around to face him, I don't make a sound. I don't need to. We're still talking. Every touch he makes, every imprint of his skin is like another word, another thought, a continuation of our conversation. And we're not done yet. Not yet.

Ciao," I say casually, and flick my hair back. "Si. Ciao." I could so be Italian. Except I might have to learn a few more words.

You don't need to change one hair. One freckle. One little toe. And if its me thats made you feel you should do this..then there's something wrong with me. -Luke Brandon

I once tried to give him a friendly little "drugs chat". He politely corrected me on every single fact, then said he'd noticed I drank above the recommended guidelines of Red Bull and did I think I might have an addiction? That was the last time I tried to act like the older sister.

We’re on this planet for too short a time. And at the end of the day, what’s more important? Knowing that a few meaningless figures balanced—or knowing that you were the person you wanted to be?

There's nothing like your mother's sympathetic voice to make you want to burst into tears.

If you can't be honest with your friends and colleagues and loved ones, then what is life all about?