“Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!”

“I've been looking forward to this for weeks. You don't even know. It's like, gross hunter, gross hunter, gross hunter, puppet show!”

“So, you wouldn't marry me.""Ridiculous question. I'm eighteen!""Oh, it's an age thing?" He frowned. "You don't mean wild oats, do you? We're not going to have some stupid break so you can experience other---"Zuzana put a hand over his mouth. "Gross. Don't even say it.”

“To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last.Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.”

“And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not—they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.”

“Skip meeting him? The butterflies, the pounding heart, the blushing? The part where you enter each other's magnetic fields for the first time, and it's like invisble lines of energy are drawing you together-”

“Oh, Hell. Must. Mate. Immediately.”