“I could hear the boy cheering in the back seat and Justin had a huge smile on his face, his dimples standing out. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe I lacked the necessary testosterone levels to be enjoying this.”

“He scanned my face with careful hope in his eyes. “You love me?” “It’s the tattoos,” I shrugged. A wide smile stretched across his face, making his dimple sink into his cheek.”

“I tried to tune out the sensation and, embarassed at the silvering of my eyes-I have to admit, I had a sudden, new sympathy for men faced with hiding their arousal-I squeezed them shut.”

“The man running toward me is not a man, he is a boy. A shaggy-haired boy with a crease between his eyebrows. Will. Dull-eyed and mindless, but still Will. He stops running and mirrors me, his feet planted and his gun up. In an instant, I see his finger poised over the trigger and hear the bullet slide into the chamber, and I fire. My eyes squeezed shut. Can't breathe.The bullet hit him in the head. I know because that's where I aimed it.”

“I no longer know the author of this book, for simply stopping long enough and writing it down was where I changed from a boy with his eyes squeezed shut to a man with his eyes wide open so that the sunlight might reach my heart despite all that darkness.”

“It’s brown.” So maybe I had the teeniest, tiniest, most infinitesimal amount of auburn in my hair. I was still a brunette. “It’s the lighting,” I said.“Yeah, maybe it’s the lightbulbs.” His smile brought up both sides of his mouth, and a dimple surfaced.”