“He's not doing anything he shouldn't be doing, right?" "Like what?""Like hitting on you.""Ew. No, of course not. He doesn't see me that way." Michael shook his head and went back to his coffee."What? You think he does?""Sometimes he looks at you a little... oddly, that's all. Maybe you're right. Maybe he just wants you for your blood.""Again, Ew! What's with you this morning?""Not enough coffee.”

“Do you ever wonder what it's like to be so angry that you...And then something happens, and after that, everyone figures that's what you're like, and that's what you're always going to be, and so you just decide to be it? But the whole time you're thinking, Am I going to be like him? Or am I already like him? And then you get angrier, because maybe you are, and you want...He stopped. He wiped at his eyes. I'm not lying. My brother wiped at his eyes.”

“What did you—" He swallowed. His voice was raspy. "What did you do to him?""Sightseeing. Your turn."He shivered. "No, that's all right.”

“He looked at the gun. "Aren't you afraid?""Of course I am," Anna said. "Of course I'm afraid. But that doesn't help."He shook his head. "No," he said, "it doesn't help to be afraid. Bad things happen anyway. You're right.”

“This—” He shook his head. “You and me, you know it’s not a good idea.”“If you think so, maybe you should stay away.”“You don’t want me to,” he said, moving his hand to mine. Every time he touched me, my stomach got all jittery.“What do you want?” I asked.“You,” he said, his expression unreadable and his voice heavy and full of . . . full of what? Sadness? Regret? “To understandyou. To know that you’re safe. To not have to avoid the only person I can be myself around.”

“You're making this really hard for me," he said quietly, holding my face in his hands."So maybe you should give in.""I don't want you to think that's all I want from you.""What else do you want from me?""Everything," he whispered and brushed his lips against mine.”