“How do I look at her?"Mason laughs. "Like you're a starving dog and she's wearing a skirt made of meat.”

“You’re related to her?” I hear Mason say through the door. Then he laughs loudly. He has a great laugh. “Your name is Guy Love?” He barks out a laugh, louder this time. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Mason Patel is my counterpart. He is the eraser to my chalk. The milk to my cereal. The chocolate to my peanut butter. We were made for each other in cookie heaven.”

“Mason, I’m ruined. I can never give you what you deserve. I’m incapable of loving someone like—like you want. I will never be able to do it right. I will never deserve to be loved.”My breathing is erratic. I shove myself to my knees and grasp her arms, pulling her toward me once again. “Sometimes never is a distorted perception. I love you, Hope. And I’m not the only one. I know you care about me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it. Everybody needs love. Everybody. And some people need it more than others. You’re a liar if you say you don’t. I’ll do that for you. I’ll love you. All you have to do is let me.”              The wind whispers against my back as if giving me a nudge toward her and I take it as a sign. I propel myself into her, pushing my bare skin to hers. I need to feel her. I need her to feel me.              This is real.”

“I do not have a hero complex. I have always been attracted to strong, independent women. I like a girl who has her shit together. No strings. Simple. Confident. But the way she nearly sighed the word 'broken'--as if it was her sole identifier, as if it's branded on her somehow, as if admitting this has cost her dearly, shamed her--just killed me a little bit. I want to save her. I want to be her hero. I want to make her see she is so much more than her damaged past.”

“I'm not mad, Mason. I am crushed. Acting mad makes it easier to deal with than letting it rip me apart.”

“I find it intriguing that a girl who doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything would pretend as if she were in front of the entire class. Seems like there’d be a pretty fascinating reason.” He stares at her as if he is on to something. As if he already knows what she isn’t saying.“Why do you think?” He’s quiet. She glances at him. His eyes are still on her. “I think you’re a very interesting person.”She nods. “Because I throw books.”“Because you have secrets.”