"Boys Are Better in Books" aka "My book boyfriend" is hosted by Missie at The Unread Reader. This is a weekly meme in which bloggers can discuss a fictional crush. Swoon-worthy quotes and an explanation for why you chose the character are encouraged! Also, I enjoy choosing pictures that look how I imagine the character. If you want to join in this fun meme, visit Missie's blog!
"'You seemed... awake.' Alex is whispering now. He closes his eyes, opens them again.
'I'm tired of sleeping.'"
Who he is: Alex, a character in Lauren Oliver's Delirium, is from the Wild, where people live dangerous lives while rebelling against the deliria surgery and the government. He accidentally falls for a girl within society and must fight to be with her in a world where love is forbidden.
Hair: Golden brown
Description: Alex is tall and athletic. He is described as thin but toned. He has a scar made to mimic the scar left by the deliria surgery. His smile is crooked in an adorable way. He excels at swimming and has striking eyes.
"Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?"
"I don't know any other way."
"Let me show you."
And then we're kissing. Or at least, I think we're kissing—I've only seen it done a couple of times, quick closed-mouth pecks at weddings or on formal occasions. But this isn't like anything I've ever seen, or imagined, or even dreamed: this is like music or dancing but better than both.
“And I love you too.” His fingers skate the edge of my jaw, dance briefly over my lips. “You should know that. You have to know that.”
"I know the rules. I've been living here longer than you have."
He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. "Hardly."
"Born and raised. You're a transplant." I nudge him again, a little harder, and he laughs and tries to catch hold of my arm. I squirm away, giggling, and he stretches out to tickle my stomach.
"Country bumpkin!" I squeal, as he grabs out and wrestles me back onto the blanket, laughing.
"City slicker," he says, rolling over on top of me, and then kisses me. Everything dissolves: heat, explosions of color, floating.
"Why do you care?" I say, barely a whisper.
"I told you" he whispers back. I can feel his breath just tickling skin space behind my ear, making the hair prick up on my neck. "I like you.
" You don't know me" I say quickly.
"I want to, though."
He is looking at me through the smoke, across the fence. He never takes his eyes off me. His hair Is a crown of leaves, of thorns, of flames. His eyes are blazing with light, more light than all the lights in every city in the whole world, more light than we could ever invent If we had ten thousand billion years.