“In fact, when he wasn’t being a jerk, controlling or a pain in the ass, he looked at me…He looked at me…Oh hell, he looked at me like I was his life.”

“Will, you look like hell!" I yelled through the glass door."I can't say how you look," he said. "But if you look like you sound, you look like a jerk. Please help me.”

“The sun flitered in through the small, dirty windows, catches his eyes. They are brown, ordinary, but the way he looks at me—no one has ever looked at me like he does. He looks at me like he sees something. Someone.Me."All right," he says, and puts his hands behind his head."Go ahead.”

“Hey, look at me! Look at me! Look at me! And...look at me. Will he think I'm sexy enough? Will he find me wholesome enough? Am I fuckable? Is he allergic to feathers?!”

“He looks a hell of a lot like me, only a fair bit older.”

“I sat down on the grass and looked up at Brae. He was still shirtless and - although it pained me a little to even think it - it suited him. He was in really good shape and he looked less uptight without it, more relaxed. If it wasn't for his weird silver hair he could have looked perfectly ordinary. Better than ordinary in fact.”