Over at YA Highway, this week’s road trip asked readers what their favorite display of affection in a YA book was.

Because I’m indecisive (at least when it comes to books), I’m going to list two–one from Going Bovine by Libba Bray and and one from The Princess Bride by William Goldman (even though I do not, personally, classify it as YA).

These may be slightly spoilerish. You have been warned.

Going Bovine

“Dulcie?” I call. Already, I miss the feel of her skin against mine.

The sheets are a rumpled mess. I slept hard. On the pillow is one pink-tinged feather. It smells like rain and laughter and the unexpected. It smells like Dulcie. There’s no note on it this time. No secret code. I don’t need it. My jeans are on the floor; I slip the feather into my back pocket for safekeeping.

Dulcie is one of my favorite characters in recent years. In fact, she’s the reason I bought Going Bovine. I was flipping through it at the bookstore, stumbled upon a Dulcie scene, and was immediately taken with the idea of a punk angel.

What I love about this scene is how intimate and sentimental a gesture it is. It’s so very far removed from the Cameron we got to know in the first half of the book.

The Princess Bride

With no more words, she whirled into his arms, then, saying, “Oh Westley, I didn’t mean that, I didn’t, I didn’t, not a single syllabub of it.”

Now Westley knew she meant to say “not a single syllable of it,” because a syllabub was something you ate, with cream and wine mixed in to form the base. But he also knew an apology when he heard one. So he held her very close, and shut his loving eyes, and only whispered, “I knew it was false, believe me, every single syllabub.”

And if you don’t know why I adore that little snip, there’s really nothing I can do to explain it.

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