He shakes his head slowly before lifting the pint to his lips. I follow suit but can’t help wondering what he’s thinking.
“I don’t see how you’d have that problem. I’m sure you get plenty of attention without even trying,” he says finally, almost mumbling the words into his glass.
I look him right in the eyes and helplessly give in to my urge to grin before answering .
“Perhaps the attention I tend to get without trying isn’t the one I want.”
We just stare at each other for what feels like ages. Neither of us seem in a hurry to look away. I leisurely let my mind wander, still curious what his hands might feel like against my skin. And those lips.
Objectively speaking he looks like the sort of guy you’d avoid messing with if you can help it. I’m certain that when he walks down the street, people will instinctively part to make way. At the same time his mannerisms, his way of speaking have me convinced that behind the imposing facade, he’s a really sweet guy. I wonder what makes me so sure, I don’t even know him… yet.
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