Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide- open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.

I see a few hands stretching out to me at the edge of the net, so I grabbed the first one I could reach and pull myself across. I roll off, and would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me. "He" is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.

I would be shocked by the lack of security if we were not at Amity headquarters. They often straddle the line between trust and stupidity.

It's like he knows, he knows I have a thing for her.

We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.

The theory is that if you spill all your secrets, you'll have no desire to lie about anything, ever again. Like the worst about you is already in the open, so why not just be honest?

I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.