Switched

Wendy: Why are you staring at me? Finn: Because you're standing in front of me.

Finn: I look at you because I can't look away Wendy. Wendy: That's kinda creepy. Finn: I will work on being less creepy then.

Did you think you could treat me like shit at a dance, then sneak into my room in the middle of the night and tell me that I'm a troll with magical powers, and I'd just be like, yeah, that sounds right.

When something is important to you, you make sure its safe.

How did you even know I wasn't in my room?" "I checked on you." Finn gave me a look like I was an idiot. "I check on you every morning." "You check on me when I'm sleeping?" I gaped at him. "Every morning?" He nodded. "I didn't know that." "Why would you know that? You're sleeping," Finn pointed out.

He kissed me desperately, like a drowning man and I was his oxygen.

Who was that?” I whispered, as if the walls could hear me. They were lined with pictures, a few of which I recognized as being painted by master painters. “Rhys.” “Yeah, I know but… is he my brother?” I asked. I had already decided that he was foxy, so I really hoped that he wasn‟t.

I wanted to show you that it's not all cold and intimidating," Finn explained. "I wanted you to see something warm and beautiful.

I look at you because I can't look away.

My only experience with dances was what I had seen on TV, but it really wasn’t that far off. The theme appeared to be “Crepe Paper in the Gymnasium,” and they had mastered it perfectly.

I had called him out on being creepy, justifiably so, and it didn’t faze him at all. He didn’t stammer an apology or flush with shame and regret. He just kept looking at me evenly. Most likely, he was a damn sociopath, and for whatever reason, I found that endearing.

How had it turned into this? I had lived my whole stupid life without him, and now I could barely make it through the hour.

He hadn’t been peeping intentionally; he’d been trying to sneak into my room. So that was slightly less creepy, I supposed.

A foolish man thinks he knows everything. A wise man knows he doesn't," Finn replied absently, still looking down at the book. "That's such a fortune-cookie answer," I said with a laugh, and even he smirked at me.

The desperation was coming off you in waves. You were all but begging to dance with me. I am doing you a favor.

You know, back in the day, when a guy saved a Princess's life, she would reward him with a kiss...

I need to call Matt and let him know I'm okay," I said. Finn held the passenger door open while I got inside. As soon as he got in the driver's seat, I turned to him. "Well? Can I call him?" "You really want to?" Finn asked as he started the car. "Yes, of course I do! Why is that so suprising?

This is so weird. They're your brother and aunt." "No, I understand. They're your family too." Rhys said. "They loved you and raised you. That's what family is, right?

Why do you have to be so damn cryptic?

Im looking at you 'cause i can't look away" -Finn

That’s kind of creepy,

At that moment I didn't particularly care if a band of raging marauders tried to do her in,but if there were frequent attacks on her "castle," I thought I should know.

Most likely he was a damn sociopath, and for whatever reason, I found that endearing.

the way it always did.

That’s not how it works. You don’t have the right to other people’s thoughts just because they might include you,

They were unfailing in their love for me, and most of the time they had gotten nothing in return. Maybe that last part was the proof that my mother was right. They only gave, and I only took.

Stir fry!” Rhys proclaimed. “Really?” Finn leaned over his shoulder and peered down at the ingredients in the pan. Rhys moved to the side a little so Finn could reach in and grab something out of it. He sniffed it, then popped it into his mouth. “Well, it’s not terrible.” “Stop my beating heart!” Rhys put his hand over his heart and feigned astonishment. “Has my food passed the test of the hardest food critic in the land?” “No. I just said it wasn’t terrible.” Finn shook his head at Rhys’s dramatics and went to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “And I’m certain that Elora is a much harsher food critic than I’ll ever be.” “That’s probably true, but she’s never let me cook for her,” Rhys admitted, shaking the wok to stir up the vegetables more. “You really shouldn’t let him cook for you,” Finn advised, looking at me for the first time. “He gave me food poisoning once.” “You cannot get food poisoning from an orange!” Rhys protested and looked back at him. “It’s just not possible! And even if you can, I handed you the orange. I didn’t even have a chance to contaminate it!” “I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. A smile was creeping up, and I could tell he was amused by how much Rhys was getting worked up. “You didn’t even eat the part I touched! You peeled it and threw the skin away!” Rhys sounded exasperated. He wasn’t paying attention to the wok as he struggled to convince us of his innocence, and a flame licked up from the food. “Food’s on fire,” Finn nodded to the stove. “Dammit!

When something is important to you, you make sure it's safe.