"But please, when you see an opportunity..." He presses his hand to my cheek, cold and strong, and tilts my head up so I have to look at him. His eyes glint. They almost look predatory. "Ruin them."

Sorry, am I being rude?" she asks. "I'm used to saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging

I've done without doing things, like sleeping and eating, but I need to write.

Caleb," I say, "I love you." His eyes gleam with tear as he says, "I love you, too, Beatrice.

You're the one who has to live with your choice, everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will

Are you asking me to undress, Tris?' A nervous laugh gurgles from my throat. 'Only ... partially

Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right?” I say. “No, I’m pretty sure you’re not all right.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to ask you not to make any decisions until we’ve talked about it.