“Not many people know how to make letters like this," he says. "Do you ever teach anyone?""Only once," I say.”

“Angels?' 'You know. The ones in the old stories. How they can fly to heaven.' 'Do you think anyone believes in them anymore?' he asks. 'I don't know. No. Do you?' 'I believe in you.' he says.”

“What did you think about?" I wish I could tell him that I thought about him, but I lied to him once and I won't do it again. And besides, I wasn't thinking about Xander either. "I thought about angels," I say."Angels?""You know. The ones in the old stories. How they can fly to heaven." "Do you think anyone believes in them anymore?" He asks."I don't know. No. Do you?""I believe in you," he says, his voice hushed and almost reverent. "That's more faith than I ever thought I'd have.”

“His lips move silently, and I know what he says: the words of a poem that only two people in the world know.”

“Any other questions?""Just one," I say. "What color are your eyes?" I want to know what he thinks, how he sees himself - the real Ky - when he dares to look."Blue," he says sounding surprised, "they've always been blue.""Not to me.""What do they look like to you?" he says puzzled, amused. Not looking at my mouth anymore, looking into my eyes."Lots of colors," I say. "At first I thought they were brown. Once I thought they were green...""What are they now?" he asks. He widens his eyes a little, leans closer, lets me look as long and deep as I want."Well?""Everything," I tell him, "They're everything.”

“But if you were Matched," I say softly, "what do you think she'd be life?" "You," he says, almost before I've finished. "You." We do not kiss. We do nothing bu hold on and breather, but still I know. I cannot go gently now.”

“No.""Why?""No one needs to know," I say."To know what?How long you've lasted?" Vick asks."To know anything about me," I say.”