i think now , of elvis costellos groaning agony at the end of that song of the same namei want youand what i felt then was nothing so sexy and brutal as that , but i had wanted nothing more than her , or what i thought she was , since the day i first met lily in the trees at padua , then went home and dreamed of her with a capital h. at first , rose showed a flicker of tension , a pupil-constricting freeze that flattened all the emotion on her face into nothing .