I look into his narrow green eyes, his gaze as steady and uncompromising as ever, and instead of an internal collapse something quiet but true clicks within, and there is my answer. I can see now what I am to him, what I’ve always been to him, and the part of me that would be desperately thrilled to take a walk with Stephen and find out what would happen is no longer even subliminal—it’s just gone. In his amused, absorbed expression I can see the risk and the rush that talking to me provides him. It’s something that is not remotely about me. And then there’s a familiar voice echoing in my
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