From The Cordelian Chronicles:
Turning to go home, they nearly collided with the “cute” boy Kelly had thought was staring at them when they were on the hill. You wouldn’t call him tall, but he came close, with dark brown hair halfway down his neck. He was probably about 18. His skin was light brown and his plain blue t-shirt hung loosely over his thin frame. He pocketed a cell phone or music player he had been fiddling with as the girls nearly ran into him, but then his interest shifted.
“¡Buen chico!” he said, crouching down and scratching Bramble. “Who’s a good dog?”