“What care is it of yours,” he asked, “what I think of Orla?”
     This felt dangerous, for some reason.
                                                                      [ … ]
     Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.”
     And it was a lie.
     It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.

@ravencyclenetwork search: favorite ship ⟶ Bluesey

Earlier in the year, she had had a vision of kissing him, and she could still picture that quite easily. But the sensible part of Blue, which was usually the only part of her, thought that had more to do with Richard Campbell Gansey III having a nice mouth than with any blossoming romance.
     Anyway, if fate thought it could tell her who to fall for, fate had another thing coming.
Gansey added, “I would’ve thought you had more muscles. Don’t feminists have big muscles?”
    Decidedly not in love with him.