“- We don't even like each other.- I pretty much can't stand you.And then his lips crushed to mine.”

“You’re not too bad, Finley Sinclair.”I couldn’t have looked away from this boy if the room had caught on fire. “You’re okay yourself. At times.”“But we can’t get involved.”“No.” I swallowed. “Definitely not.”His face lowered a fraction of an inch. “Because I’m infamously bad.”“And I’m staying away from trouble.”His voice was rough, husky. “It would never work.” I took a step closer. “Impossible.”He traced my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We don’t even like each other." “I pretty much can’t stand you.”And then his lips crushed to mine.”

“Idiot," I said, before grinning broadly and crushing his mouth to mine. "We need to pick new pet names for each other," he muttered as I hefted myself up from the ground.”

“Your father and I haven't had this much quality time since our honeymoon.""So what?""So, what if we can't stand each other?”

“How we got together, the lies, the betrayals.. we doomed ourselves before we even started." He shook his head. "We love each other so much... and we don't trust each other at all.”

“One night," Ky says, "doesn't seem like much to ask." I don't speak. He moves closer and I feel his cheek against mine and breathe in the scent of sage and pine, of old dust and fresh water and of him. "For one night, can we just think of each other? Not the Society or the Rising or even our families?" "No," I say. "No what?" He tangles one of his hands in my hair, the other draws me closer still. "No, I don't think we can," I say. "And no, it isn't too much to ask.”