Cynthia Hand

“He's not meeting my eyes anymore. "We're young," he says. "We've got lots of time to fall in love.”

“I love how he sometimes gets embarrassed by the mushy stuff between us and then his voice gets all gruff and he tickles me or kisses me to shut us both up. Boy, do we ever kiss. We make out like champions.”

“I'm sorry," I choke out.He's quiet. Tears drip off my chin. He lets out a slow, shaky breath."Don't cry," he says. "That's not fair."I laugh and sob at the same time."It's okay," he whispers. His fingers brush at the tears on my cheeks. "Don't cry."Then he puts his arms around me, wings and all. I curl my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest and breathe in the smell of the river on him. Somewhere in the woods a crow caws. A blackbird answers. And then we're kissing and everything goes away but Tucker.”

“He loves me. Inside his head, his every thought and reaction was born of love, love inside and out, crazy, irrational (and sure, a bit lustful) love. He loves me, and that's also what terrified him when he saw me all lit up like a Christmas tree. He doesn't know what I am, but he loves me.”

“The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hand drops from my face and grab at my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan escapes him, and that noise makes me absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me.”

“Tuck," I breathe, and then he kisses me.I've been kissed before. But nothing like this. He kisses me with surprising tenderness, for all of his gusty talk. Still cupping my face, he gently brushes his lips against mine, slowly, like he's memorizing what I feel like. My eyes close. My head swims with his smell, grass and sunshine and musky cologne. He kisses me again, a litte more firmly, and then he pulls back to look down into my face.”

“I didn't ever think you were a freak. I think...I thought you were magic or something. I thought that you were too perfect to be real.”

“I don't know what to say. This summer hasn't turned out at all the way I'd planned. I'm not supposed to be standing in the middle of a barn with a blue-eyed cowboy who's looking at me like he's about to kiss me. I shouldn't be wanting him to kiss me.”

“Another silence for the record books. Then he sighs."I know. It's crazy. I feel like --" He stops himself. He suddenly looks so miserable that my heart aches for him.I hate my life.”

“Dude. Hot Bozo. Best nickname ever.”

“Think about a good memory, she whispers in my mind. Remember a moment when you loved him. And just like that, I do. "What did the fish say when it hit a concrete wall?" he asked me. We're sitting on the bank of a stream and he's tying a fly onto my fishing rod, wearing a cowboy hat and red lumberjack-style flannel shirt over a gray tee. So adorable. "What?" I say, he grins. Unbelievable of how gorgeous he is. And that he's mine. He loves me and I love him. "Dam!" he says.”

“Fine.” He smirks at me. “Nice to meet you, Carrots,” he says, looking directly at my hair. “Oh, I mean Clara.”My face flames.“Same to you, Rusty,” I shoot back, but he’s already striding away.”

“And sometimes time really does stop.”

“Insert the biggest, most awkward silence in the history of big awkward silences.”

“What do you see in a guy like Christian Prescott?" he asked me that night when he dropped me off from prom. And what he was really saying then, what would have come through loud and clear if I hadn't been so blind was, why don't you see me?”

“I'm looking at you. Why are you always trying to hide how pretty you are?”

“Have you ever been to a place you're supposed to love, but all you can think about is home?”

“What did you think I was?""A rude Hick.""Geez, blunt much?”

“Silver Avalanche coming up the driveway," calls Jeffrey from upstairs."What are you, security?" I call back.”

“Oh, come on. You eye-hump him all through British History.”

“Are you any good at it?""Pulling idiots out of the snow? I'm the best.”

“Hey, Carrots," he says.”

“In fact, I've essentially given up on the idea of flight altogether and accepted that I'm going to be an angel-blood who stays earthbound, a flightless bird, like an ostrich. Maybe, or in this weather, a penguin.”

“My hair is my best feature, long and wavy, bright gold with a hint of red, trailing behind me wherever I go like an afterthought.”

“Hey, you feel like driving today?" he asks. "I don't want to walk to the bus stop. It's too cold.""You feel like dying today?""Sure. I like risking my life. Keeps things in perspective.”

“So often we only do what we think is expected of us, when we are capable of so much more.”

“Sam: "I always thought you were the most beautiful of all the Nephilim."Meg: "That's ironic because I always thought you were the ugliest of all the angels.”

“Tucker: Why would you tell me now if it's against the rules?Clara: Because I love you.”

“Tucker: "But she gave me the perfect gift."Clara: "What?"Tucker: "You.”

“I beat at him uselessly with my fists. I scream. My mind races. I'll pee on him. Puke, bite, scratch. Sure, I'll lose, but if he's going to mark me I am going to mark him, too, if such a thing is possible.”