“He started to smile. “Are you waving the white flag?”“Not so fast. I’m saying we can take things slow. See if it blows up in our faces. I ’m not saying declare eternal love for each other while I fall back with my legs open.”

“We have each other, and we always will, whatever happens. And if someone does murder me, you needn’t worry because I’ll come haunt you.”He smirks. “Rattling the windows and tipping glasses and things?”“I’d say nice things while you slept so you’d have good dreams,” I say. “Or maybe mean things if I’m jealous of the other girls you smile at.”

“But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart. And it's only in that time that we can see one another, because we see out of ourselves through our cracks and into others through theirs. When did we see each other face-to-face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours. Before that, we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out.”

“The secret is,” I say, whispering right into his ear, “that yours was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.”“But I’ve never kissed you,” he whispers back. Around us the rain sounds like falling glass. “Not since third grade, anyway.” I smile, but I’m not sure if he can see it.“Better get started, then,” I say, “because I don’t have much time.”

“Remember that day you said you loved me? Remember that? See, you could do that because you're basically a sane person, who grew up in a loving, sane family. You could take a risk like that. But in my family we didn't go around saying we loved each other. We went around screaming at each other. So what do I do, when you say you love me? I go and undermine it.”

“Talking to a therapist, I thought, was like taking your clothes off and then taking your skin off, and then having the other person say, "Would you mind opening up your rib cage so that we can start?”