Fiction 89

“You are so fair, ra…” he says, running his hand from her wrist to her elbow.

“I am not fair, I am wheatish.” she smiles.

He holds his hand next to hers. “See this? This is wheatish. You are fair. You really need to get your eyes tested.”

“Thank you. What else do I need to get my eyes tested for?”

“Depth perception, colour blindness, ability to not see properly, do you want me to go on?”

“No, stop. I am flattered enough.”

“What the hell? I am insulting you here, and you blush! What are you made of?”

“Of sugar and spice and everything nice. You, on the other hand, are so handsome, I want to keep kissing you all the time.”

“Yeah right. Like I have a six-pack or something.”

“It’s what is between the ears that matters, ma. And you are the first man to use “rue” in the correct form, in a sentence. I fell for you, right at that moment.”

“I am not that intelligent. I see your friends, the intellectual types, I am nothing like them. One day, you will realize I am just another regular guy.”

“Yup, the day hell freezes over and pigs fly!” she laughs, ruffling his hair. “Now come here and kiss me, you sexy idiot!”


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