What's that smell?"
I froze. What? Did I really smell so distasteful he had only to lean in my direction to catch a putrid whiff of me? I stayed the urge to break his freaking nose for pointing out my stinkiness.
He sniffed again. "I can't place it."
"How bad is it?" I asked, my cheeks heating.
"It's good. Some kind of flower."
My first thought: Hurray! I don't stink.
My second: Ohmygod!

Author: Gena Showalter