Sometimes her hair would get in her face while she worked. She always wore
it down, she was the only waitress in the place that wore her hair down. It
wasn't proper, but I didn't mind. Sometimes I went with Jack, but he tired
of the whole affair a week or so ago. I keep telling him he's not patient.
He doesn't care.
Sometimes she stops to talk with me, other times she doesn't. I don't know how to read her, it's impossible. I don't care though, I want her. I need her.
"Carolina?" That's her name, Carolina, isn't it gorgeous? I've never heard such a name before. I repeated it, "Carolina?" She turned and her hair did that flip thing and she had to wipe the strand away from her face with her delicate fingers. She stood impatiently over me as I scrambled to configure a sentence. I looked up into her eyes and she smiled. She wasn't angry anymore, and I knew that I was right, just like I told Jack, I wasn't just wasting my time.
After a while of me not saying anything, she smiled once more and clutched my hand, and continued on her way. Where? I couldn't tell you, I was too focused on the fluid motion in which her body moved, hips swishing with hair, skirts soaring only millimeters above the ground, it didn't matter where she went, as long as she went just like that.
So that night I decided to stick around for a while, it looked pretty good for me with the whole hand thing, so I decided to press my luck and turn on the charm. I waited until closing and then approached her when she stepped outside.
"Hey," I called as she turned from the door. She faced me, eyes so innocent, so real.
"Hi," she smiled and looked away. I had her already, this was going to be easier than I thought. Her eyes twinkled as I continued to speak and the more she smiled the more confidence I gained, the more confidence I gained the more I spoke, and within a few minutes I had her giggling. Not shy polite laughter, but real honest air-seeking chuckles. By the end of our venture I was sure that she was completely infatuated.
It isn't often that I mistake smitten with taken. That night I did.
Sometimes she stops to talk with me, other times she doesn't. I don't know how to read her, it's impossible. I don't care though, I want her. I need her.
"Carolina?" That's her name, Carolina, isn't it gorgeous? I've never heard such a name before. I repeated it, "Carolina?" She turned and her hair did that flip thing and she had to wipe the strand away from her face with her delicate fingers. She stood impatiently over me as I scrambled to configure a sentence. I looked up into her eyes and she smiled. She wasn't angry anymore, and I knew that I was right, just like I told Jack, I wasn't just wasting my time.
After a while of me not saying anything, she smiled once more and clutched my hand, and continued on her way. Where? I couldn't tell you, I was too focused on the fluid motion in which her body moved, hips swishing with hair, skirts soaring only millimeters above the ground, it didn't matter where she went, as long as she went just like that.
So that night I decided to stick around for a while, it looked pretty good for me with the whole hand thing, so I decided to press my luck and turn on the charm. I waited until closing and then approached her when she stepped outside.
"Hey," I called as she turned from the door. She faced me, eyes so innocent, so real.
"Hi," she smiled and looked away. I had her already, this was going to be easier than I thought. Her eyes twinkled as I continued to speak and the more she smiled the more confidence I gained, the more confidence I gained the more I spoke, and within a few minutes I had her giggling. Not shy polite laughter, but real honest air-seeking chuckles. By the end of our venture I was sure that she was completely infatuated.
It isn't often that I mistake smitten with taken. That night I did.
