“I have to go,” he said softly. “But you should take a few minutes to fix your hair; it’s a real mess. And your face is all flushed.”
“Maybe I’m just not practiced in these sorts of things.”
For a long moment, Ash said nothing. Then he whispered, “Neither am I.”
His next words were forced out like a confession. “If I was any good at it, it was only because I’ve imagined it so often.”