“I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then? I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.”

“What do they do to students at the University who eavesdrop?” Bast asked curiously.“I haven’t the slightest idea. I was never caught. I think making you sit and listen to the rest of my story should be punishment enough.”

“She stepped forward into the shadows with him and took his hand. “What do you want from us, Rogan?”He shuddered with the force of his expelled breath and intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’m not sure.” He brought their hands to his lips and rested them there, not kissing or licking or being seductive, just touching. “I think I want it all. I’ve barely kissed you, but I already know it won’t be enough. Even sex won’t be enough. You’re deep in my system.”

“It is always what I have already said: always the wish that you may find patience enough in yourself to endure, and simplicity enough to believe; that you may acquire more and more confidence in that which is difficult, and in your solitude among others. And for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is right, in any case.”

“What a woman you are,” he murmured, and she heard the emotion in it, theway the Irish thickened just a bit in his voice. And saw it in those vivid eyes when he drew back. “That you would think of this. That you would do this.”He shook his head, kissed her. Like the breath, long and quiet.“I can’t thank you enough. There isn’t enough thanks. I can’t say what this means to me, even to you. I don’t have the words for it.” He took her hands,brought them both to his lips. “A ghra. You stagger me.”He framed her face now, touched his lips to her brow. “You’re the beat of my heart, the breath in my body, the light in my soul.”

“I start to grab it so I can it pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend.”