“Stalkers lips curled into a sneer. "You won't make a move without him, huh? That's embarrassing.""No," I said softly. "It just hurts because you wish it was you.”

“I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.”But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.”

“Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way; I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.”

“Yet sometimes being a friend meant letting people do things that hurt, like putting distance between you, just because it made them happy.”

“You could miss someone, but it did no good to fixate on loss. I wished I had the ready words of a Breeder or the ability to comfort with a soft touch. I didn't. Instead I had daggers and determination.That would have to do.”

“I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.”

“If I ever win you," he said, anger bright in his pale eyes, "it will be because you want me more. Not because he's gone. I'm nobody's second best.”