“He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and...”

“I suddenly felt the way Cinderella might have felt if she hadn’t had that convenient midnight curfew: my feet were hurting, my hair was slipping free from its pins, and my makeup was getting all smudged from sweat. I was unbelievably tired, undeniably depressed, and I just wanted charming.”

“He’s a vampire.” I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. “Seriously, it makes sense. He’s always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won’t bite them....Maybe that’s what he’s doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.”

“I said. “I’m fine. I have a little bit of a head ache, but I’m not dizzy or nauseous. I can walk and talk just fine, and I can remember everything.” “Everything, huh? Don’t self-diagnose, Doctor Fisher. Do you remember when the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought?” “The what?” “The Battle of Bunker Hill. We covered it in World Civ.” “No, we did not.” “We did, too. The unit on the American Revolution.” “Davin, that was like, two years ago! I don’t remember stuff like that!” “So, not everything.” “Everything important.” “That happens to have been a very significant battle,” Davin reminded me, in a smug tone.”

“If you want to call it quits, just tell me. Man up and say it to my face. Don’t just skulk around.”

“Nice slippers,” Davin grinned. They were green and furry. “Thanks.” I shrugged and looked him over, half expecting to see a new injury. “So what’s up?” He had one hand behind his back.”

“It’s so peaceful. I could go to sleep in here.” His eyes flickered to me once more, and for a dizzying second I wasn’t thinking about sleep or storms but about pressing my lips to his. I gave my head a slight shake and tried to slow my pulse”

“I need you to just trust me for now without knowing all the answers.”

“I wouldn’t joke if you weren’t always patching me up,” Davin retorted. He looked at Chad again. “You must have noticed, right? It’s kind of cute, actually.” Though my heart fluttered, I tried to shoot him a warning glare. He ignored me. “I like to call her Doctor Fisher.”

“Oh, it was 1775.” “What?” “1775. The Battle of Bunker Hill.” “Oh.” I laughed. “We learned about it the day we met,” he added. “Another red-letter day in history.”

“Telling me I’m pretty is nice and all, but if you really want to make my day, tell me I inspired you to read a book. Say you picked up a novel I’ve raved about and that you fell in love with it, too. Or tell me the time we spent reading aloud together was one of your favorite moments. Ask me to read to you, and beg for another chapter. This will fill me with indescribable joy and purpose.And if you really want to make me speechless with wonder, tell me it was MY words and MY story you enjoyed. Tell me you shed tears over the things my characters went through, and that you’re just a little bit in love with them, too. I might never recover. I will carry those words around in my heart for the rest of my life, like a talisman against all past and future criticisms.That’s how important stories are to me.”