I can’t help it." I sighed. "One can never help being born into perfection.
Sometimes I feel like we're a knot, too tangled to be taken apart.
I let myself be sad. I let myself think of him.
I only wish I knew that you'd actually want to be with me when that time is over.
He stood and went to read my pin as I approached. “America, is it?” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes, it is. And I know I’ve heard your name before, but could you remind me?
There are some things you don't learn about yourself until you let someone else into the most intimate places of your heart.
Could it be that simple? Tell one story to one generation and repeat it until it was accepted as fact?
Yes, Maxon," I whispered. "It’s possible.
And I know it's over, but it's the same way I felt when you broke up with me.
Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you’ll always be a princess to me.
If you don’t want me to be in love with you, you’re going to have to stop looking so lovely. First thing tomorrow I’m having your maids sew some potato sacks together for you.
Every girl will come with pros and cons. Some people will choose to focus on the worst in some of your options and the best in others, and it will make no sense to you why they seem so narrow minded. But I’m here for you, whatever your choice.
Your Majesty— Tugging my ear. Whenever.
The Selection was no longer something that was simply happening to me, but something I was actively a part of. I was an Elite.
I’ve met nearly every woman in this room, and I can’t think of one who would make a better friend. I’d be glad to have you stay." My relief was inexpressible. "Do you think," Maxon asked, "That I could still call you ‘my dear’?" "Not a chance." I whispered.
How did thie person-someone I'd imagined would be my polar opposite-always seem to find the things that would make me the happiest?
It was a special feeling, irreplaceable, that was priceless. No queen on the throne could feel more important than me.
I hit your thigh!” “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh.
No wonder I’d never had any friends. I was shockingly bad at it.
When we died, no one would know, and that fraction of a moment that was so important to who we were would be gone.
My shoes I got to pick. I chose worn-out red flats. I figured I should make it clear from the start that I wasn’t princess material.
The Angeles air was quiet, and for a while I laid still, listening to the sound of Maxon breathing.
I was overwhelmed. He understood me so well, how nervous I was about making this commitment, how frightening it was for me to become a princess. He was going to give me every last second he could and, in the meantime, lavish me with everything possible. I had another one of those moments when I couldn't believe this was all happening. "That's not fair, Maxon," I mumbled. "What in the world am I supposed to be able to give you?" He smiled. "All I want is your promise to stay with me, to be mine. Sometimes it feels like you can't possibly be real. Promise me you'll stay." "Of course, I promise.
You get confused by crying women, I get confused by walks with princes.
America Singer, you get back here." He ran in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we stood, chest to chest. "Tell me," he whispered. I pinched my lips together. "Fine, then I shall have to rely on other means of communication." Without any warning, he kissed me.
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