complex simplicity

“Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly.
His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption."
Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?"
"No."
"Not many girls? Or not many boys?"
"Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would.
"How many?"
"Why—"
"I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?"
My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One."
At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear.
"He was doing it wrong.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?"
I stared at his beautiful face and his beautiful mouth and I wanted nothing more than to taste it. "I would kiss you back.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“Have you made any other friends since we've been here?"
I gave him the death stare. "Yes, actually."
"Who? I want a name."
"Jamie Roth."
"The Ebola kid? I heard he's a little unstable."
"That was one incident.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“I was warned about you, you know."
And with that half-smile that wrecked me, Noah said, "But you're here anyway.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer