I don't really doubt that Derek means what he says. But it's all hypothetical, this vague idea of nameless, shapeless people. And it's easy for him. I could probably name half a dozen people off the top of my head who'd kill to be with him and he can't even see it.

And I'd be at the top of that list. Goodness, how pathetic.

Derek's hand is warm on my shoulder and meant to be comforting, I know, so I give him the best smile I can manage. "It's nice that you think so," I tell him, meaning it completely. "But no one can really control who they like, can they? And I know... I know what I look like."