"Sometimes," she thinks, "he speaks like he could love me."
“He smiles and his eyes crinkle and I let myself believe that his fingers have wrapped themselves around more than just my hair.
"Because it is tragic," she says quietly, "to fall in love with beautiful words that have no meaning. And smart girls should know better than to arch their backs for boys whose palms press their necks instead of their thighs, and whose words touch their spines instead of their hearts."
"He laughs, and I feel each breath like a bullet to the chest.
"Because to him, I am nothing and I am everything.
"And I," she laughs grimly, "I just wish he would make up his damn mind, because I cannot be both and keep my sanity."