Summer stopped, startled, with the towel in her hands, half turned to pass it to him. “I’m not,” she said, shaking her head, smile going wry and crooked. “Not like you.” She threw the towel over his head, picking up another one and wrapping it around herself. “Don’t be sillier than you have to be.”
Rolling his eyes, he tilted his head to the side and began to towel-dry his hair. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and my eyes are wide open, Summer, and they don’t lie,” he stated and laughed aloud, moving the towel across his body.
She made a sound of disagreement. “Fine, what do you see? Whatever it is, I don’t see it.” She rubbed her face with the towel, hard, so he couldn’t see her expression.