Can't you just thank me and get over it?" "Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant. "You're not going to let it go, are you?" "No." "In that case . . . I hope you enjoy disappointment." We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel. "Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly. He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I don't know," he whispered.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted. "No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full - of butterflies.

You know I love you right?” “I know,” he breathed, his arm tightening automatically around my waist. “You know how much I wish it was enough.

You look tired." "Yeah," I agreed, and shrugged. "Near-death experiences do that to me . . .

Don't let anyone tell you that high school is supposed to be fun. High school is to be endured. College is fun.

You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.

Despite my best efforts I’ve seen you naked before – doesn’t do much for me so no worries.