I knew one hundred little things about Noah Shaw but when he kissed me I couldn’t remember my own name.
I must be made of nothing to feel so much nothing.
I can’t bear to look at my bed without seeing you in it.
It doesn’t matter what we are. It matters what we do.
If I truly loved him, she said, I would let him go. I wish I loved him enough.
I twisted my arm to curl him behind me and he unfolded there, the two of us snuggled like quotation marks in his room full of words.
You always have a choice.
Do not find peace. Find passion.
They lie, you know. It’s not easier to ask for forgiveness. Not even a little.
I’m sorry, is driving and talking too complicated? No problem, I’ll shut up.
There will come a moment when there’s nothing you want more than us. Together. When you’re free of every fear and there is nothing in our way.
Noah acted like he felt nothing because he felt everything. He seemed not to care because he cared too much.
There’s nothing I want. There’s nothing I can’t do. I don’t care about anything. No matter what, I am an imposter. An actor in my own life.
He didn’t look like the same person who picked me up this morning. Noah – sarcastic, distant, untouchable Noah – cared. And that made him real.
He would kiss me, right now, after everything I’d done. I was poison, and Noah was the drug that would make me forget it.
My brother spent a large portion of the agonizingly slow drive to school banging his forehead on the stearing wheel.
Today, tonight, tommorrow, forever. I was made for you.
I’m not making you hate me. I’m making you love me.
Our mouths were fluent in the language of each other and we moved with one mind and shared the same breath.
I looked closely at it for the first time; the charm was just a slim line of silver – half of it hammered into the shape of a feather, the other half a dagger. It was interesting and beautiful; just like him.