She's pretty in a way that distracts me just like she did in the Skiz ring. No, pretty's not the right word. Beautiful.

June has never looked more beautiful than she does now, unadorned and honest, vulnerable yet invincible.

I lean my head against my knee and close my eyes. Even the illusion of June is enough to send a stabbing pain through my chest. Hell. I miss her so much.

What’s the point of keeping in touch with the girl you’re crazy about, when you’re dying?

I've never thought of describing her beauty as delicate, because delicate just isn't a word that fits June... but here, now that she's sick, I realize just how fragile she can be.

He loved you.

At this moment, all I'm thinking about is what I'd give up for the chance to kiss her or to run my fingers through her dark hair.

Before I can say anything else, he steps forward and takes my face in his hands. Then he's kissing me one last time.

I ALMOST KISSED THE GIRL LAST NIGHT.