I saw him eying me from afar. Across Savers. He was leaning against a clothes rack with his hands in the pockets of his pleated pants, one foot resting on top of the other. I crossed carefully behind the books, but his gaze continued. Just as I was almost to the door:
"You play volleyball, don't you?"
[Looking around] "Uh, me?"
"Yeah, you play volleyball, right?" [Him, throwing a sassy $10.00 smile.]
"Mmm, no."
"Ah, but you're so tall! You really should. And you're so..."
[Cutting him off before he could attempt to finish that sentence]
"I used to, but--"
"You shouldn't waste your height like that. You're beautiful."
"...thanks." [Shuffling off quickly, to avoid hearing the rest of his flattery.]
Umm?
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
2 comments:
so his pleated pants weren't really your thing i take?
Accept that lovely compliment for what it was.
You ARE beautiful.
Post a Comment