Jackson Rathbone can really play the guitar. Our taste in music is not exactly the same, but we found common ground with Radiohead's Creep, with which he then serenaded me.

I'd forgotten how exuberant you are

And then... as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer.

So… um… what’s the, er, date? You know, the due date for the little monster.

His gift is slower than Jane's. It creeps. It will touch us in a few seconds.

Strange world isn't it?

Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?" I asked. My voice broke twice. He didn't push me away. He pulled me tight against his ice-hard chest, so tight it was hard to breathe, even with my lungs securely intact. "I know exactly what you mean," he whispered. "But we have lot of reasons to be happy. For one, we're alive." "Yes," I agreed. "That's a good one." "And together," he breathed. His breath was so sweet it made my head swim.