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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
She was sitting there. Stunning, beautiful, mysterious. My glass of fruit juice and I are observing her. And everything starts.

Submitted: March 26, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 26, 2017



She was sitting there. Long, jet-black hair, staring into her half-empty pint, smiling mischievous. Just as if she remembered something. Me, on the other side of the bar, watching her interested. She had that specialness to her. That kind of, you are looking for in someone. That kind of, making you hold your breath in awe, because somehow those people with that aura are different. Mysterious. While I’m totally lost in starring and admiring her, she suddenly glances over. We lock eyes and she raises her glass, like chinking glasses from distance. I raise mine too, wondering, if my observation was that obvious. Apparently, because her smile shifts from mischievous to a knowing one. I feel caught, even though staring is not a crime. But with her, it seems different.

During my thinking, she made her way up to me. “Is that taken?” She is pointing at the chair next to me. “No... No! Of course not. Sit down...” am I stuttering, while bringing my thoughts back to the present. Polite as I am, I ask: “So, can I get you something?” “No, thanks, I’m pretty fine with that.” she is smirking and raising her pint. Something inside me does a facepalm and rolls it’s eyes. Well, at least I’m polite. But freaking nervous. “I could get you one too. The Guinness here is pretty good”, she offers. I’m noticing an amused sparkling in her hazelnut-brown eyes. Great, now she’s making fun of me.  “Oh, well, I’d rather stay with that for now. But, when I finish it, I might try one. Thanks”, trying to hide my still full glass from her. “Wait, what did you order? I’ve never seen that before! Is it juice!?” again, she’s laughing that tuneful and amused laugh. “Yes. It’s juice. Cherry and banana, mixed.” I admit. “Can I have some?” is her next question. “Sure, if you want to. It’s nothing special”, I’m answering, while looking for to the bar tender, wanting to order another one. “Oh, no, I’d rather take a sip of yours.” Again, she has that mischievous grin on her face. “Go on, but only if I can have a sip from that, I heard, so highly advertised Guinness”, is my simpering answer.

We pass glasses, our hands touch. The touched skin tingles. As I’m hiding my astonishment with lifting the glass to my lips, I try to glance inconspicuous over to her. She is already observing me with that searching look. With the ghost of a smile, she puts the glass down. “Tasty...”, her eyes fixed on my mouth. I don’t know how my pint, made it’s way back to the bar table, but I know that her lips look very soft.

© Copyright 2018 Jermione. All rights reserved.

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