The wonderful ladies over at Critique_This_WIP decided to host a Flirt Fest BlogFest! I loved this idea! What Southern girl doesn't love the art of flirting? *lowerslashesandgrins* So if you want to see some great flirt'n in the blogosphere be sure to check out the other entries as well!
Because I am deep within my current WIP I chose to treat this one similar to my Wednesday's Written Word projects. I asked my husband to come up with a word that he associates with flirting. I should have thought that through. He gave me: Embarrassment. After I giggled remembering him years ago I began to type.
So here you go...
***
"Hi Carson!"
The soft southern drawl had me tensing. I had not expected Anna to be here this morning. Turning towards her voice I swallowed.
"Hey Anna. I didn't know you worked Sundays." My eyes roamed the tables of books behind her in an attempt to be nonchalant before landing on her face.
My throat burned as air left my lungs.
God she's beautiful.
Dark brown hair fell over bare shoulders. A pale peach strapless dress highlighted her long neck causing my hands to sweat. Beneath the fluorescent lighting her skin appeared to softly glow. Her eyes, always gentle, were deep violet. I had thought them blue the first time we met but then I realized they were the color of amethyst - a dark purple core with violet edges. Her soft round cheeks were always flushed and her lips were in a perpetual smile.
"I don't. I am actually here just for me." She held up four books before setting them on the table beside us. "What about you? I did not know you came here seven days a week, should we put you a bedroom in the back?"
Chuckling I shook my head. "Well, I had considered applying for the position of office manager; requesting a salary of books and an in store apartment."
"I'd definitely work Sundays if you did that, Carson." Her tone dropped and she shifted closer to me.
Heat crawled up my neck. We had always talked whenever I visited the store, but it had been about books and life. Of course I thought she was sweet, smart, gorgeous... and way out of my league.
All of a sudden I noticed the music overhead beginning to close in on me while she stared, waiting.
I wonder why she isn't still talking? Did she really just hit on me??
Raising an eyebrow she held the gaze a moment longer then began to pick up her books; a frown on her lips. I don't think I have ever seen her sad.
Where is she going? I wonder...oh. my. god. Have I said anything back to her yet?
Nope. Its been like three minutes.
"Well it was good seeing you Carson." Shaking her head she moved to walk away.
No! Wait!
"Anna, sorry. Um, I just...you know...you would?" My hands fidgeted against my sides, pulling at the pockets on my shorts. I have never had this kind of trouble talking to a woman. Ever. What is wrong with me?
"Would what, dar'ln?" Propping her books on her hip violet eyes bore into me. Her lips began to twitch as though she were trying not to laugh.
Great. She thinks I am a blithering idiot. Is she really going to have me repeat what she said?
Her face told me that she was.
"You would work every day, I mean Sunday, if I um, you know, lived here or shopped here everyday. Well, I already shop here everyday. But I mean half the time its so I can talk to you. You always look beautiful and there's that perfume you wear. Smells like cotton candy in the summer. But I do enjoy the books also..."
I honestly believe that there should be holes that follow us around, ready at a moments notice to suck us in and remove us from our misery.
Her eyes lit up as my rambling died down. An echo of humiliation reverberated in my head blanketing any sound of overhead music.
I could crawl under the table and die a very pitiful guy now.
Did I really just tell her that I come here so I can talk to her? Yep.
Did I really just tell her she smells like cotton candy in the summer? Yep.
Well at least I did mention books? Yep. Congratulations you are a Babbling Moron!
Masochism is not normally something I indulge in. Hives were popping up on my wrists. Yep, a panic attack is all I need to make this Sunday morning even more memorable.
"Carson. How come you never ask me out?" She took a few steps forward stopping inches from me. My stomach turns and I am dying to scratch the hives.
She has to tilt her head to look directly at me. I had never noticed how much taller I was than her or the freckles that run across her nose.
Even though I wanted to dive into the ground or at least roll around in cortisone cream my gaze was locked on hers. Her lips tilted forming the smallest pout and her lashes seemed to grow right before my eyes. A long stray hair lay against her left cheek almost touching the corner of her eye.
My fingers were fidgeting again. Only this time my right hand moved towards her.
What are you doing? No. Don't touch her.
My hand was at her cheek, hovering so close.
Don't do it...don't...yeah maybe you can get a trophy for being such a moron.
My fingers slid against her skin; the warmth of her body startled me as I moved the hair back. Gently I tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes softened and her lashes fluttered, butterfly wings held nothing on lashes like hers.
Ah well. At least she did not jump when you touched her. That's good. Right?
"Carson?"
I put my hand back at my side. "Yeah."
"What do you think about Italy?"
Did she just ask me about Italy?
"Um, as a country, I am sure its phenomenal. The history of course is mind boggling. Um, they uh, speak Italian there..."
Yep - too bad you can't somehow be teleported there after such a dumb statement. You are a history professor with an expansive vocabulary and you summed up Italy with mind boggling history and that they speak Italian? It is amazing you can walk without falling down all the time.
She laughed. Hard. The light caught her eyes and the amount of amusement was gut wrenching. Her free hand covered her mouth and for a moment I truly did want to die. Right then, right there on the dark blue carpet in the bookstore. The song over my head lamenting my humiliation with its horrible tune.
That's it. You are done for. You just became bookstore gossip and a failure at being remotely interesting for the opposite sex. Pack up your bags moron and lets head over to crazy town.
After what seemed like hours she cleared her throat.
"Yes - they do speak Italian. What about the food? Do you like pasta?"
Does she cook? I mean its okay if she doesn't but is she trying to say she can cook pasta or is she Italian? Of course she isn't Italian. Though she could be. Maybe. Wait, didn't she ask a question? Oh yeah..
"I love pasta."
Why love? I mean pasta's good but do I love it? Sometimes. I loved how she laughed. It was deep and rich, not some silly giggle. She's watching me again. There wasn't another question, was there?
"Okay...well there's a great restaurant down by the lake; Petrocinni's. It is wonderful! Have you been there?"
Her grin widens as I shake my head. "No. But I'll be sure to give it a try."
Chuckling she moves to my side slipping her hand through the crook of my arm. Immediately my body responds; electricity dances atop my skin. For a second I worry the hives will worsen but all I can feel is excitement from her touch.
"How about we go there tonight? After we buy our books." She begins to steer me towards the history section knowing it is where I normally camp out.
"Dinner? Tonight? Us?" It is difficult to process words right now as her invitation travels the channels of my brain.
"Yes. Though maybe we should grab a book on Italy. You know just to learn some interesting tidbits." A quick look at her profile and I see her try to disguise her amusement.
Oh my god is she making fun of me?
Well would it really be a shock after today's display? You're a professor for gosh sakes who can't even carry on a simple conversation!
Glancing down I see her smiling at me; her eyes twinkling between jet black lashes. She squeezes my arm a bit tighter as we walk side by side.
She is so beautiful. I can't believe she just asked me out! She asked me!
Maybe being a blithering moron isn't so bad after all....
Who knew?
***
Have a Sensational Sunday!
