I Do Know Who You Are. I

This Concept Could Easily Have Gone Awry. Stories About Love Tend To Go That Way Sometimes. They Wander Into The Realm Of Cheese And Never Return, Which I Think Is A Shame, Because There Is A Way To Write About Romantic Love Without Breaking Out The Velveeta.

No Factions? A World In Which No One Knows Who They Are Or Where They Fit? I Can't Even Fathom It. I Imagine Only Chaos And Isolation.

That's Why You Like Me!' I Exclaim. 'because You're Not Nice Either! It Makes So Much More Sense Now.' 'come On,' He Says. 'we're Going To See Johanna.' 'i Like You, Too.' 'that's Encouraging,' He Replies Flatly. 'come On. Oh For God's Sake. I'll Just Carry You.

Let Me Get This Straight. So You Left The Dauntless Compound To Get Ready For War... And Took Your Makeup Bag With You?" "yep. Figured It Would Be Harder For Anyone To Shoot Me If They Saw How Devastatingly Attractive I Was.

We Kiss Again And This Time, It Feels Familiar. I Know Exactly How We Fit Together, His Arm Around My Waist, My Hands On His Chest, The Pressure Of His Lips On Mine. We Have Each Other Memorized.