Fine.” He smirks at me. “Nice to meet you, Carrots,” he says, looking directly at my hair. “Oh, I mean Clara.”
My face flames.
“Same to you, Rusty,” I shoot back, but he’s already striding away.

Author: Cynthia Hand

Fine.” He smirks at me. “Nice to meet you, Carrots,” he says, looking directly at my hair. “Oh, I mean Clara.”<br />My face flames.<br />“Same to you, Rusty,” I shoot back, but he’s already striding away. - Cynthia Hand

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