Shift

What the fuck do you want?" After a pause, he said in a firm voice, "This is Dylan Keeley, the guy who would've killed to trade places with you until five minutes ago." He met my eyes. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now why don't you go back to screwing your prom queen and let me do the same.

I can't forget you, any more than I can forget my own name." He kissed me then, and the world which no longer mattered, completely fell away.

I guess you gotta try the rest before you settle down with the best.

I love you, Aura," Logan whispered. "Body or not, as long as I'm in this world, I want to be with you.

I love you all, so much more than you should ever love me.

I’ve been writing more songs in my head,” he said, “about being a ghost and a shade.” His face turned smooth and solemn. “How I’d die all over again just to touch you.

I’ll always love you.” “I’ll love you, too.” He touched my face. “Forever.

He grabbed the microphone in both hands, his face exploding into a smile at the sensation. “Hey. Do not. I repeat. Do. Not. Panic. There’s nothing to be scared of. This is just your average everyday fucking miracle.

He smiled at me. “Have a good time.” “Thank you.” The music was definitely working, I thought as I started to shut the door. “Don’t get laid,” he added.

Exactly," He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Sometimes we help ourselves, and sometimes we get help from ghosts in the woods and bampots in BMWs.

Hey, it’s not like I was saving myself for the day you had a body again, so don’t get excited.” “Too late.” He curved his fingers around my jaw and kissed me, hard enough to turn my limbs to liquid fire.

I hate when people act like music is nothing but wild creativity," Logan said. "That's bullshit. It's also about counting and measuring and calibrating. If you do it right." He passed his hand over my MP3 player sitting on the bed between us. It was playing Mozart to help my concentration. "And if you do it really right, no one can tell how hard it is for you. You can let them believe it's magic, because that means you must be magic. You're worth worshipping.

This one's for Aura. You all know who that is by now. The only girl I've ever loved. I wrote her a song, but she's the only one who's ever heard it, or ever will.

Maybe we should've stayed like that, just hanging out. Maybe we never should've kissed those Keeley boys.

Logan followed my gaze. "I wonder if there'll be stars where I'm going." "If there aren't now, there will be once you show up.

You know what would be cool, next time?" said a voice behind me. "Black roses.

The hand touched my cheek again. It wasn’t soft and cool like Gina’s. It was warm, with calloused fingertips like those of…. ….a guitar player.

Don’t move,” he breathed, softer than ever. Logan slowly wrapped his fingers around my hand.

He knelt and slowly ran his hand down my arm, his lids heavy and his lips parted. “Aura . . . where can I touch you?” “Anywhere.” His hand left my arm and drifted to the rise of my hip bone. “And where can I kiss you?” I took a deep breath, long past ready for the future. “Everywhere.

Somehow you always stayed quiet.” He laid his hands beside each of mine, so that if he’d been solid, I would’ve been pinned between his body and the dresser. “Remember?

My heart pounded when its counterpart thumped beneath his skin. “How?” “I don’t care,” he said, and kissed me.

One of those times," he said, "I think I'd take a nap.

He sang the last two lines strong and smooth, promising that he'd always be with me, even when I could no longer hear his voice. I whispered the lines with him, sending the promise right back

What do you want as your password?" "How about iloveaura

So if he'd been a plumber, ___ _____ would've been about toilets?" Left blank to avoid spoilers but this is just too funny :)

Run" was a song about grasping for happiness just out of reach, about endless, temporary good-byes. A song only a ghost should sing.

But it was time to stop forgetting the world–and time to start changing it.

You can't help what you feel." "I can try harder to feel something different.

The truth isn't always beautiful, and it's almost never kind. The truth just is.