catuss

“Twenty-three,” he said. “Mm?” She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away. “You once asked me how many times I’d told a girl I loved her. I’ve been trying to remember them all, and I’m pretty sure the answer is twenty-three.” She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. “Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?” His brow furrowed. “Are we counting her?” “You said it, didn’t you?” His gaze darted to the side. “Twenty-four.” Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn’t even know twenty-four people.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“Yeah, but broken isn't the same as unfixable.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“You should hate me. I’m an idiot. I made a mistake.”
“You may be an idiot, but I assure you, you’re quite a lovable one.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter

“You think I’m perfect?”
He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth. Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead.
“Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day.”
― Marissa Meyer, Winter