“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.

make me choose: @gryewaren​ asked ⟶ ‘i wish you could be kissed jane’ or ‘unguibus et rostro’ and @marebharrow asked ⟶ gansey x blue or adam x ronan

That could’ve been the end of it. I want something more. She said, “We can pretend. Just once. And then we’ll never say anything about it again.”

@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.

TOP 5 SHIPS VOTED BY MY FOLLOWERS
                 ↳ #4 Bluesey

     It was a tablecloth tugged from beneath a party service. Everything jumbled against everything else in just a few chaotic moments. Fingers in hair, hands cupping necks, mouths dragged on cheeks and chins in dangerous proximity.
     They stopped, noses mashed against each other in the strange way that closeness required. She could feel his breath in her mouth.
     "Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I kiss you,“ he whispered. "Maybe it’s only if you kiss me.”

“We can pretend. Just once. And then we’ll never say anything about it again.”

[ … ]

Her lips were so close to his jaw that she felt his hint of stubble at the end of them. It was mint and memories and the past and the future and she felt as if she’d done this before and already she longed to do it again. Oh, help, she thought. Help, help, help. He pulled away. He said, “And now we never speak of it again.“