You think I’m perfect?”He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth. Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead.“Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day

You think I’m perfect?”He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth. Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead.“Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day (Marissa Meyer, Winter)