Damn,” Kenji says after a moment. “Damn damn damn. This shit is bananas

Have you ever been in love?" I ask, turning on my side to look at him. He stares up at the sky. Blinks a few times.
"Nope."
I roll back, disappointed.
"Oh."
"This is so depressing." Kenji says.
"Yeah"
"We suck."
"Yeah.

Please—please get up—and lower your voice—”
“Hell no.”
“Why not?” I’m pleading now.
“Because if I lower my voice, I won’t be able to hear myself speak. And that,” he says, “is my favorite part.

You know, I can sort of control it now," I tell him, beaming. "I can moderate my strength levels."
"Good for you. I'll buy you a balloon the minute the world stops shitting on itself.

I'm not falling for Warner," I say quietly.
"Sure you aren't."
"I'm not," I insist. "I'm just-- I don't know." I sigh. "I don't know what's happening to me."
"They're called hormones.

You're naked?" Kenji is suddenly studying my sheet and not bothering to be subtle about it. I flush despite my best efforts, flustered, frustrated.

"Blondie said they destroyed my clothes."

"Blondie?" Blond man is offended.