“You are an enigma, Avery Morgansten."I leaned against the counter, my eyes widening as he proceeded to eat half the loaf. "Not really. More like you are.""How so?"I gestured at him. "You just ate four hard-boiled eggs, you're eating half a loaf, and you have abs that look like they belong on a Bowflex ad."Cam looked absolutely thrilled to hear that. "You've been checking me out, haven't you? In between your flaming insults? I feel like man candy."I laughed. "Shut up.""I'm a growing boy.”

“You've been checking me out, haven't you? In between your flaming insults? I feel like man candy.”

“And this must be Avery?""Oh, God, no," Cam said. "This is Candy, Mom."His mother's eyes widened and a bit of color infused her cheeks. "Uh, I'm...""I'm Avery," I said, shooting Cam a look. "You had it right."She spun around, smacking Cam across the arm. Hard, too. "Cameron! Oh my God. I thought..." She smacked him again and he laughed. "You're terrible.”

“He kept telling me I was queer, and I didn't like it. The word, I mean. Shutting you away, somehow; roping you off with a lot of people you don't feel much in common with, half of whom hate the other half anyway, and just keep together so that they can lean up against each other for support.”

“Been eating candies, have you?""You sent those?" She kept her mouth closed as much as possible."Of course." He picked up the brown bad of candy on the table. "What's your..." He trailed off as he weighed the bad in his hands. "Didn't I give you three pounds of candy?"She smiled impishly."You ate half the bag!""Was I supposed to save it?""I would have liked some!""You never told me that.""Because I didn't expect you to consume all of it before breakfast!"She snatched the bag from him and put it on the table. "Well, that just hows poor judgement on your part, doesn't it?”

“I ate the roll, and forced down some more sparkling wine. When your eyes closed against the sun again, and I had nothing else to look at I glanced quickly at your chest, curious, really. I'd only seen chests like that in magazines. I wondered if that's how you'd got all your money . . . modeling. I looked down at my stomach. I grabbed at it, seeing how much fat I could lift up in a roll. "Don't worry," you said, one eye open again like a crocodile, watching me. "You're beautiful." You tipped your head back again "Beautiful," you murmured. "Perfect." "You wouldn't know. You're built like some sort of supermodel." I bit my lip, wishing I hadn't complimented you like that. "Or a stripper," I added. "Prostitute." "I wouldn't want you to think I'm repulsive," you said, half smiling. "Too late." You opened your other eye to squint at me. "Will you ever give me a break?”