“Spanish, huh?" he said, glancing down at the scattered papers as he grabbed them. "Can you say anything interesting?""El tono de tu voz hace que queria estrangularme." I stood up and waited for him to hand over my papers."That sounds sexy," he said, getting to his feet and handing me the stack of Spanish work he'd swept together. "What's it mean?""The sound of your voice makes me want to strangle myself.""Kinky.”

“He had a newspaper rolled in his hand, bearing down on me like a puppy that had piddled on the carpet. "Bad Chloe,” I muttered. "What?”I’d forgotten his bionic hearing. “Bad Chloe.” I gestured at the rolled-up paper and putout my hand. “Get it over with.”

“I… What are you saying, Zsadist?" she stammered, even though she'd heard every word.He glanced back down at the pencil in his hand and then turned to the table. Flipping the spiral notebook to a new page, he bent way over and labored on top of the paper for quite a while. Then he ripped the sheet free.His hand was shaking as he held it out. "It's messy."Bella took the paper. In a child's uneven block letters there were three words: I LOVE YOUHer lips flattened tight as her eyes stung. The handwriting got wavy and then disappeared. "Maybe you can't read it," he said in a small voice. "I can do it over." She shook her head. "I can read it just fine. It's… beautiful.""I don't expect anything back. I mean… I know that you don't… feel that for me anymore. But I wanted you to know. It's important that you knew.”

“Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon.She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow.Hold my hand, he said, and then: why are your putting the sheet over my face?”

“How did you know to turn back?" I said.With his head still down, he said, "I waited for you.""But its a race. Why did you wait for me?"He lifted his head so that his eyes met mine. "I always wait for you." He took a deep breath, my ankle still in his hands. "I'm always waiting for you."In an embarrassingly breathless voice that didn't sound like my own, I said, "Because I'm so slow?"He smiled. "Yes. But not in the way that you think.”

“Derek's change came faster now and maybe a bit easier--no vomiting this time. Finally it was over, and he fell onto his side, panting, shaking, and shivering. Then he reached for my hand, holding it tight, and I entwined my fingers with his, shifting closer and using my free hand to brush sweaty hair from his face."Whoa," a voice said, making both of us jump. Simon stood in the entrance to our corner, a pile of fabric in his hands. "You really need to get dressed before you start that.""I'm not starting anything," Derek said."Still..." He held out the stack in his hands. "Dr. Fellows dug up some hospital greens for you. Get dressed and then... whatever”