“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to laugh.” I tug my hood even lower. “I think you’re going to run screaming.” “That’s not going to happen. Really, Leah,” he says, gentler, more serious. “At least let me look at it to ascertain that you’re not dying.” “But I look so ugly right now,” I whisper, my skin burning. “Impossible,” he says firmly. It’s the kind of thing any girl would dream of hearing, but it’s useless, because it isn’t true. I shake my head. “Don’t make such bold declarations when you haven’t seen my face yet.”
