“Say something Becks. Say anything""You," I said. "I remember you." I kept my eyes shut, and felt his hands drop. He didn't move back."What do you remember about me?" There was strong emotion behind his voice. Something he fought to control.With my eyes closed, I could easily picture the other side of the century."I remember the way your hand could cover my entire shoulder. The way your lower lip stuck out when you were working out a problem in your head. And how you flick your ring finger with your thumb when you get impatient."I opened my eyes, and the words no longer got stuck in my throat on their way out. They flowed. "And when something surprises you and you don't know what to say, you get a tiny wrinkle in between your eyebrows." I reached up to touch the divot, then hesitated and lowered my hand. "It showed on the day the coach told you you'd made first-string quarterback. And it's showing now." For a moment the space between us held no tension, no questions, no accusations.Finally he leaned back, a stunned expression on his face. "Where do we go from here?""Nowhere, really," I whispered. "It doesn't change anything."Eyebrows still drawn together, he said, "We'll see." Then he turned and left. I tucked this moment away.In the dark, dank world of the Tunnels, I would call upon this memory. And there would be a flicker of candlelight. If only for a moment.”

“Jack was behind it,waiting, with the corner of his lip pulled up in not quite a smile. "What?" he demanded."What what?" I asked.He held my note up in front of my face. "What do you remember?"Everything. But I couldn't tell him that. I shrugged and said, "Things." Then I made a move to leave,but Jack's strong arm blocked my way,his hand pressing against the locker behind my back."No you don't.You can't leave a note like this"-he waved the paper-"and then say 'things.' I want to know what, exactly, you remember."People in the hallway stared and I could feel my face going red. Jack noticed, and put his other arm up against the lockers,blocking me in. My pulse went nuts.It had to be visible on my wrists.Jack's face was inches from mine. His breath was minty, and I could smell the rustic scent of his aftershave,and whatever strong emotion he was feeling, it tasted sweet. I breathed it in, and the inhalation was embarrassingly loud.His eyes searched mine. "This is the first opening you've given me, and I'm not letting you get out of it." He paused. "What do you remember?"I looked behind him, at the curious spectators, and squinted my eyes shut, unable to bear the scrutiny anymore."Say something,Becks. Say anything.""You," I said. "I remember you." I kept my eyes shut,and felt his hands drop. He didn't move back."What do you remember about me?" There was strong emotion behind his voice. Something he fought to control.With my eyes closed,I could easily picture the other side of the century. "I remember the way your hand could cover my entire shoulder. The way your lower lip stuck out when you were working out a problem in your head. And how you flick you ring finger with your thumb when you get impatient."I opened my eyes,and the words no longer got stuck in my throat on their way out. They flowed. "And when something surprises you and you don't know what to say,you get a tiny wrinkle in between your eyebrows." I reached up to touch the divot,then hesitated and lowered my hand. "It showed on the day the coach told you you'd made first-string quarterback.And it's showing now."For a moment the space between us held no tension,no questions, no accusations. Finally he leaned back, a stunned expression on his face. "Where do we go from here?""Nowhere,really," I whispered. "It doesn't change anything."Eyebrows still drawn together, he said, "We'll see." Then he turned and left.I tucked this moment away.In the dark,dank world of the Tunnels, I would call upon this memory. And there would be a flicker of candlelight. If only for a moment.I closed my eyes,as if my eyelids were the levers of a printing press,etching the fibers into my mind.Memories were outside Cole's reach.As long as I held them,memories were mine and mine alone.”

“Let me inform you of something," he says in a low voice. "The moment my lips touch yours, it will be your first kiss. Because if you've never felt anything when someone's kissed you, then no one's ever really kissed you. Not the way I plan on kissing you." He drops his hands and keeps his eyes locked on mine while he backs up to the stove. He turns around to tend to the pasta like he didn't just ruin me for any other guy for the rest of my life. I can't feel my legs, so I do the only thing I can. I slide down the refrigerator until my butt meets the floor and I inhale.”

“He wanted you to be the small, quiet girl from Abnegation," Four says softly. "He hurt you because your strength made him feel weak. No other reason."I nod and try to believe him."The others won't be as jealous if you show some vulnerability. Even if it isn't real.""You think I have to pretend to be vulnerable?" I ask, raising an eyebrow."Yes,I do." He takes the ice pack from me, his fingers brushing mine, and holds it against my head himself. I put my hand down, too eager to relax my arm to object. Four stands up. I stare at the hem of his T-shirt.Sometimes I see him as just another person, and sometimes I feel the sight of him in my gut, like a deep ache."You're going to want to march into breakfast tomorrow and show your attackers they had no effect on you," he adds, "but you should let that bruise on your cheek show, and keep your head down."The idea nauseates me."I don't think I can do that," I say hollowly. I lift my eyes to his."You have to.""I don't think you get it." Heat rises into my face. "They touched me."His entire body tightens at my words, his hand clenching around the ice pack. "Touched you," he repeates, his dark eyes cold."Not...in the way you're thinking." I clear my throat. I didn't realize when I said it how awkward it would be to talk about. "But...almost."I look away.He is silent and still for so long that eventually,I have to say something."What is it?""I don't want to say this," he says, "but I feel like I have to.It is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand?"His straight eyebrows are drawn low over his eyes. My stomach writhes, partly because I know he makes a good point but I don't want to admit it, and partly because I want something I don't know how to express; I want to press against te space between us until it disappears.I nod. "But please,when you see an opportunity..." He pesses his hand to my cheek,cold and strong, and tilts my head up so I have to look at him. His eyes glint. They look almost predatory. "Ruin them."I laugh shakily. "You're a little scary, Four.""Do me a favor," he says, "and don't call me that.""What should I call you,then?""Nothing." He takes his hand from my face. "Yet.”

“What... what are you doing here?"He's shaking his head as he walks my way; a steaming coffee mug is in his hand."What am I doing here? I live here.""Y-you do? How did I get here?"He starts to laugh. "You don't remember?""No... I really don't."He places the mug in front of me. "You called me on your cell. I found you spaced out of your mind in an alley behind the bar. You were talking to a cat. You claimed it was your mother.”

“When I am an old man and I can remember nothing else, I will remember this moment. The first time my eyes beheld an angel in the flesh. “I will remember your body and your eyes, your beautiful face and breasts, your curves and this.” He traced his hand around her navel before dragging it lightly to the top of her lower curls. “I will remember your scent and your touch and how it felt to love you. But most of all, I will remember how it felt to gaze at true beauty, both inside and out. For you are fair, my beloved, in soul and in body, generous of spirit and generous of heart. And I will never see anything this side of heaven more beautiful tham you”