‘I have something to tell you.’ He says
I run my fingers along the tendons along his hand and look back at him.
‘I might be in love with you’ he smiles a little. ‘I’m waiting until I’m sure to tell you, though.’
‘That’s sensible of you.’ I say, smiling too. ‘We should find some paper so we can make a list or a chart or something.’
I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing behind my ear.
‘Maybe I’m already sure.’ he says, ‘and I just don’t want to frighten you.’
I laugh a little. ‘Then you should know better.’
‘Fine.’ he says. ‘Then I love you.’
Divergent, Veronica Roth.
It’s only when I read, when I lose myself in a page of words, in another world, a creation of the imagination, that I realise what a complete sucker for love I really am. No story is complete with out love, true love, real inspired love.