My Curvy Italian Queen
I abandoned my car and crossed the road in a jiff. I hurriedly stepped into the cinema, worried that I might miss her. She could be in any of the rooms watching a movie, and if she were, I would have to wait for two hours for her to come out of there. My eyes skimmed the whole floor and finally rested on her back. She was facing the board, nibbling on her index finger, pondering whether she should or shouldn’t watch a movie. Which movie? I couldn’t care less. As long as I get to talk to her and get to know her, it’ll be enough for me.
“Should I or shouldn’t I?” she mused.
“Whatever it is, I think you should,” I answered from right behind her. Then she slowly turned around to face me.
Her long and wavy brunette locks swayed as she pivoted. For that moment, my breath caught in my throat as my blue eyes locked with her hazel ones; sparks erupted in me.
“You think I should?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes.
“Wholeheartedly,” I replied softly.
“Which would you prefer?” she continued.
“Whichever your heart desires,” I bantered, eyes glinting.
“Hmm… Have you watched The Martian before?” she spoke again in her husky tone.
“Nope,” I smirked.
“Do you want a gist of it? I won’t tell if you hate spoilers,” she smiled.
For a moment, I was rooted to the spot by her carefree and beguiling smile. Man, I am hooked. Totally and unconditionally hooked.