“Once I started I couldn’t put it down. It was so addictive . . . like a train wreck.”

“It was so addictive...like a train wreck.""A train wreck," he repeats, disbelieving."You know---you don't really want to see blood and destruction and death because you know it'll haunt you forever, but at the same time you can't look away?”

“And yet here I am—torn: wantingto pull him closer, saving him, and at the same timewishing I could hop on the back of his motorcycle and,for once, allow someone to save me.”

“You just, barged in and flipped my entire world upside down,” he says, voice heated. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Sometimes I get lucky and we have real meal…like Hot Pockets.”

“On an afternoon like this, I would usually take my bike. My wrist brace, though, makes it impossible to steer, and the last thing I need is irreparable damage to an already non-functioning extremity.”

“I bring the petals to my nose and breathe deeply. "Where did it come from?"Seth smiles. "A garden.""A garden?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow.He laughs."You think you're so clever," I mutter. "It must be nice, conjuring up whatever you want whenever you want it.""It has it's perks.”