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Tris," tobias says, crouching next to me. his face is pale, almost yellow. there is too much i want to say. the first thing that comes out is, "beatrice." he laughs weakly. "beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. i curl my fingers into his shirt.

-Veronica Roth

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Tris," Tobias Says, Crouching Next To Me.

Veronica Roth

Tris," tobias says, crouching next to me. his face is pale, almost yellow. there is too much i want to say. the first thing that comes out is, "beatrice." he laughs weakly. "beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. i curl my fingers into his shirt.

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<blockquote style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #8b5cf6; padding-left: 15px; margin: 20px 0; background: #f9f9f9; padding: 15px; border-radius: 4px; color: #333;">
    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"tris,&quot; tobias says, crouching next to me. his face is pale, almost yellow. there is too much i want to say. the first thing that comes out is, &quot;beatrice.&quot; he laughs weakly. &quot;beatrice,&quot; he amends, and touches his lips to mine. i curl my fingers into his shirt."</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— Veronica Roth</footer>
    <p style="margin-top: 15px; font-size: 0.85rem;"><a href="https://pjdigitalmarketing.com/quote/tris-tobias-says-crouching-next-to-me-his-face-is-pale-almost-qbvf5" style="color: #8b5cf6; text-decoration: none;">View this quote on Pjdigitalmarketing.com</a></p>
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Yellow Laughing Next

More From Veronica Roth

Sweet beatrice, wouldst thou come when i called thee? beatrice yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. benedick o, stay but till then! beatrice 'then' is spoken; fare you well now... (much ado about nothing)

Against my will i am sent to bid you come in to dinner. benedick fair beatrice, i thank you for your pains. beatrice i took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, i would not have come. benedick you take pleasure then in the message? beatrice yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point ... you have no stomach, signior: fare you well. exit benedick ha! 'against my will i am sent to bid you come in to dinner;' there's a double meaning in that... (much ado about nothing)

There's a reason why she left them, lauren," he says. his voice is deep, and it rumbles. "what's your name?" "um..." i don't know why i hesitate. but "beatrice" just doesn't sound right anymore. "think about it," he says, a faint smile curling his lips. " you don't get to pick again." a new place, a new name. i can be remade here. "tris," i say firmly.

I put my hand on him. touching him has always been important to me, it was something i lived for. i never could explain why. little, nothing touches, my fingers against his shoulder, the outsides of our thighs touching as we squeeled together on the bus. i couldnt explain it, but i needed it. sometimes i imagined stiching all of our little touches together. how many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?

With a gentle pressure, our lips met. his hands slipped more firmly about me, and i held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as i leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. my hands rose to find his hair, and i relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. i wanted more, and i leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.

If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear. and this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as i am an honest puck, if we have unearned luck now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. give me your hands, if we be friends, and robin shall restore amends.

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