Wearing a towel and nothing else, he looks completely ridiculous. “Ohhh,” Asher says. “A prince arm thing.” He hooks his hand through the bend of Matts’s extended elbow, as dainty as a naked six-foot-four, corn-fed Tennessee boy can be. “Like this?” “Right,” Matts agrees, relieved. “Prince arm thing.” “How is this my life?” Eli asks no one in particular.
