His mask slips, splinters, shatters, leaving only a boy beholding a girl like she is worthy of his wanting. And what terrifies me even more is that I think I might be looking at him the same way, looking at him with that same longing. Try as I might to fight it, I can’t help but long for this boy who has saved my life more times than I care to admit. This boy who is equally calculating and charming, equally cool and caring. The one who’s tended to my wounds, learned about my past, been my distraction when I needed it most. The one who understands me.
