Mother Nature gives a sense of romance to young people, in place of prudence, to advance the species. It’s a trick—that makes us grow. - Lois McMaster Bujold

“So…d’you like him? Or not?”
Like was surely not an adequate word for this hash of delight and anger and longing, this profound respect laced with profound irritation, all floating on a dark pool of old pain. The past and the future, at war in her head. “I don’t know. Some of the time I do, yes, very much.”
Another long pause. “Are you in love with him?”
What Nikki knew of adult love, he’d mostly garnered off the holovid. Part of her mind readily translated this question as code for, Which way are you going to jump, and what will happen to me? And yet…he could not share or even imagine the complexity of her romantic hopes and fears, but he certainly knew how such stories were supposed to Come Out Right.
“I don’t know. Some of the time. I think.”
He favored her with his Big People Are Crazy look. In all, she could only agree.

He felt like a man trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle of live pieces, that moved and changed shape at random intervals with tiny malicious giggles.

Anything worth achieving is worth overachieving.