Busted?
As Daria and Tom exited the pharmacy card section, they looked down to notice a magazine strewn upon the floor. As they perused the pictures inside, the subject matter soon became clear. This had been a point of conflict for her before, no doubt. Even though it was no longer in her mind, she still had another person to fit in the equation. But as they took it in, all that remained was silence (well, that and the shopkeeper guarding against petty larceny). After a good minute of tension, Daria decided to break the silence.
"So, Tom...like what you see?"
His masculine instincts caused him to back away slightly. How would he put this delicately?
With a chuckle, he said, "Well...overall, yes. Personally, I don't have any reservations about any particular shape. Although I sort of like yours myself. I don't mind the size, and their roundness is sort of appealing." He took the blushing as a sign that he wasn't about to be humiliated in front of an audience of one, and continued. "But if I had to put it down to bare aesthetics, I'd choose...," and here he pointed to a humbly set rack near the top of the page, "this. They're horizontal in look, maybe a bit flat. They aren't too large for the purposes of intimacy, though." His mind jarred for a moment. "You're not...interested in these, are you?"
"Of course not," she replied. "What do you think I am?"
"Do you really want to hear the answer to that right now?"
"If psychological scarring is imminent, get it over with." Her eyes traveled back down to the magazine in their hands. "I never imagined that designer glasses could be so thought-provoking between us."