The Kind Of Kiss That

I Think Adrian Really Likes You. Like, In A Wanting-to-be-serious Way." "nope. He Likes Me In A Wanting-to-get-the-clothes-off-the-cute-dhampir Way.

How Was It That Adrian Ivashkov, Who Never Seemed To Take Anything Seriously Was The Only One Among These "responsible" People Who Paid Attention To Such Small Details? How Was He The Only One To Really Understand The Magnitude Of What I Was Feeling?

Love Is . . .” An Old Memory With Adrian Came Back To Me, And Some Of The Turbulent Emotion I Always Carried Within Me These Days Welled Up In My Chest. It Was Stupid, Feeling So Lovesick When He’d Been Gone Less Than A Day, But I Couldn’t Get Him Or The Ways He Described Love Out Of My Head. “. . . A Flame In The Dark. A Breath Of Warmth On A Winter’s Night. A Star That Guides You Home.

Honor, I Thought. For Real: The Guardians Should Have Taught It. Because I Hadn't Learned It.

Metaphors. This Was The Cost Of Making Out With An Artist.