Mare

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?'
'Because usually I have.' And the way he raised his eye-brow at me made me blush.
'Classy,' I said.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“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

“Did I just see you litter?'
'I'm driving a hybrid. It cancels out.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I'd like to rip off your clothes and have your babies.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer