“Resting on the roots of this old oak I lean back against his knotted trunk, shine my granny smith on my sleeve And ponder the days…”

“I leaned against Brent, resting my forehead against his cheek, but jerked back. "Brent you're hot."Brent grinned lazily and puffed up his chest. "Thank you. It's a burden I must bear.”

“I leaned back against him and rested my cheek on his shoulder. I could feel the river water dripping off of him."Thank you" I whispered. When I looked up, I saw he was crying.”

“Jem knotted his fingers in the material of Will's sleeve. "You are my parabatai," he said, "You said once I could ask anything of you.”

“What are we calling that, exactly?” I ask. Arthur ponders this for a moment. “Hmm. How about … Haphazard Medley Inspired By Radio on the Drive Over, Messrs. McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starr, The Most Hideous Preteen Holiday Monstrosity Ever Inflicted Upon The Ears Of Longsuffering Parents, The Smiths Because I Know You Like Them, And A Great Deal Of Nonsense Made Up Spur Of The Moment, All For The Beautiful Boy Who Is Sitting Next To Me, Because Somehow, Amidst The Recent Chaos, Dissatisfaction, And Mediocrity Of My Existence, Lord Knows How, I Seem To Have Done Something Very Right.” Oh, this guy. “You’re never going to fit that on any album sleeves,” I say, leaning in to rest my forehead against his.“Just the beautiful boy part, then,” he compromises, starting to smile.”

“Then he leaned forward and rested his cheek against mine. Hot tingles spread through me as his lips moved against my ear. "You should tell me to stop." I didn't say a word.”