What is a mannequin doing in a bookstore anyway? I was pretty sure I murmured it to myself.
"They sell clothes here too, little girl."
I turn to face him but back away when I see how close he is. When did he get here? And didn't he hear about personal space? Shush.
"Why are you so close? And what's with the 'little girl'?"
I give him a judging look, my tone filled with annoyance.
But there's something off, something that's annoying me.
I look him up and down, then back up. I know what's annoying me—his height. Should I chop his legs off? I could steal his height if only magic existed.
"You didn't see anything, alright?" My eyes never leave him.
"Oh yeah? I clearly saw it."
"Forget what you saw."
"What do I get for it?"
"Nothing." I look away for the first time in a while.
I'm fucking embarrassed.
Why can't I do one goddamn thing without embarrassing myself?
"Never mind," I hurry out after saying that.
It's impossible for me to meet him again, right?
Are you fucking kidding me? Whyyyyyy?
He was sitting right in front of me. The dude from the bookstore. In the painting club I'm in.
Let me explain—after the day at the bookstore, I promised myself I would never go there again and not to even think about what happened.
But, as I got to the painting club I go to every two weeks on Thursday, there he was—sitting right in front of me.
"So, as you guys have seen, we've put two chairs in front of each other and put a name tag on each so you can know where to sit."
The pretty senior said. She's quite popular.
"You guys have to paint the person sitting in front of you. And Jessie—"
I flinch when I hear my name. I'd been way too distracted with my thoughts to the point where I couldn't even hear what they were saying.
"Jessie, you and Kai will be sitting in front of each other because both of your painting skills are bad."
So his name is Kai... Wait, did she just say I'm bad at painting???
To be continued...