"Joshua thinks I look like a rock star?" I refuse to look at Ezra, but I can fucking hear the smirk in his voice. "More like a weird model." "What's that mean?" Ezra’s voice is low and soft. I run a hand into my hair as I feel my mother's eyes glued to me. "You know. Not like...all-American. Not like Northface," I say lamely. My eyes meet his. "More like Gucci, with the stark cheekbones."
That was weirdly specific
