“Yeah, I was just curious. I concentrated on my footsteps.Yeah, well, next time you think about stepping into rock concerts you might want to bring a bodyguard.I stopped and turned around. I brought my hands to my hips, a bit offended. What is that supposed to mean?He dropped the end of the bat into the sand. It means your small.”

“Well, if it’s not an engagement ring, what is it?" He lifted my hand again and studied the ring. “It’s a... ‘I promise to be with you forever, or at least until you’re totally sick of me’ ring,” he declared. “I see. A bit wordy. But seriously, next time you want to buy me jewelry - think ‘small’.”

“Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . .”He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat.“See?” he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. “Well, I guess you can’t. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand on me to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate.”

“I want to get you out of here.""Don't you mean you want me to get you out of here?"He took my hand—yeah, my hand again. I was liking this. A lot. "No, I mean I want to get you out. This shouldn't be your life. You deserve a lot more. Like a locker.""And a driver's license?""Let's not get carried away.”

“I smashed his hand as hard as I could with the Wiffle bat."Ow!" he screamed.Carson was rubbing his red palm, inspecting it for damage. "That hurt," he shrieked. "You really hurt me.""Right back at you," I said. "Good-bye Carson."He frowned, massaging his hand, the big baby. "I just wanted to end this nicely.""Yeah?" I cocked the bat up to hit him again. "Well, this time you don't get what you want.”

“I hate Breeds,” she muttered. “Do you know that? You and your sharp, damned noses. Just because I want to doesn’t mean I should. Hell, I want cheesecake but I know better. It goes right to my hips. Does that mean I have to eat it anyway?” He stared back at her in disbelief. “You’re comparing me to cheesecake?” Offended male fury and outrage glittered in his eyes. She huffed, “Well, the same principle applies.”