“And that for every negative event or coincidence that has happened since, imagining that you triggered them, that you made them happen makes you feel like you possess a degree of control that you don't have.”

“What is real?" Asked the boy. "It is a thing that happens to you when a girl loves you for a long time. Not just to play with," Noah said. "But really loves you." "Does it hurt?" Asked the boy. "Sometimes. When you are real you don't mind being hurt.”

“You made me real, and I will hurt for you and because of you and be grateful for the pain. But this? This is forever. Don't do this.”

“You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.“Why?” he asked.“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.”

“You don't have to pick me up," I said in a rush."Considering you have no idea where we're going and I have no intention of telling you, I'm quite sure that I do.""I can meet you somewhere centrally located."Noah sounded amused. "I promise to press my trousers before meeting your family. I'll even bring flowers for the occasion.""Oh, God. Please don't." I said. Maybe honesty is the best policy. "My family is going to screw with my life if you come over." I knew them far too well."Congratulations-- you just made the prospect all the more enticing. What is your address?”

“If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one of them.”

“If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”