Any other iron on you?” he asked impatiently. “Just my tongue stud.” His look was a mixture of curiosity and horror. “I’m kidding, you idiot. Let’s go.

I can’t see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren’t real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don’t look—It’s hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don’t try to see anything, because—Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.” He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to think. “Huh. That’s never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.

We sat down and Lend put his arm around me. Every single jaw at the table dropped. "Man," John said, shaking his head. "All this time I was pretty sure you were gay.

Eyes like streams of melting snow,” she said, and it was all I could do not to roll my melting snow eyes.

Maybe I shouldn’t mouth off to the elemental I kinda hoped was my future mother-in-law.

I'd tell him, though. Soon. Soonish. Eventually.

Oh, shut up. He is not saying that he's too good-looking to be friends with girls. But then again, yesterday at the beach, there were a high percentage of beach beauties sitting very close to us and/or sauntering repeatedly past. And he never looked up once. I snort. "You poor handsome thing. If only you were ugly, then girls wouldn't have to throw themselves at you all the time. I could break your perfect nose for you, if it'd make your life easier.