Kit stared at himself in the mirror in dismay. He wasn’t ugly. He knew he wasn’t ugly, from his own artistic and critical eye and from the way other students looked at him behind their books and from the affirmations he begged out of Ally.
Tonight, with so much riding on his ability to make a good first impression, all he could see were flaws.
There was a pimple above his eyebrow, a rough patch of razor burn on his chin, a slump to his shoulders leftover from too many nights hunched over a book. He needed to convey control and competence, and he couldn’t do that looking like a nervous schoolboy.
Ally stirred in the bedsheets and sighed deeply. “Come back to bed,” he murmured.
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