““Before I can allow myself to explore the idea of whether Rondo also thinks she’s the prettiest girl on the planet, I snatch myself back from the precipice and hope that my momentary logical stutter hasn’t showed in my eyes. “And where would you suggest we start?” I ask. She looks me square in the eye. “I would suggest that we look in our slates for the identification charts, because I don’t have a damn clue.” Disarmed, I laugh—loudly—without meaning to. She gives me a half smile and shrugs in a nonchalant way, but I glimpse a flash of shy pleasure in the way she blinks her eyes away from mine. This is the part where I’m supposed to snap back with something as clever as it is barbed, but all my words seem dull now.””
