see the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head and look about
She comes close enough to pack away the trash, filling you up with her scent again and making your mind slip to other places. You'd like to snatch her up right there and push through all the awkwardness, to speak with your body instead of your voice because clearly you're better expressing yourself when words (and clothes) are not involved.
Instead you watch her walk down the beach, following the sound of her warm laugh, the brightness of her eyes. "Eh, they could do worse," you reply, feeling some warmth in your face at the flattery. "More like I've been in their place often enough."
Fuck, why is this so awkward? You trail behind her another couple feet, frustration steadily growing as you silently curse yourself. What the fuck you doin', mate? She's clearly not weirded out, and you can feel this situation getting away from you by the minute.
One thing left to do, then, and one way left to do it. Deep breath. Put on your big boy pants. "Vai... Shit looks different in the daylight," you murmur without any eloquence, looking at the sky beyond the pair of you. "I look different. But... I still like the look'a you. With or without clothes." This last part you add with a lift of your eyebrow, trying hard not to look for all the world like a suave and dapper smuggler and not a boy with a crush. "An' if you still like the look'a me, well..."
Smooth, you moron. Smooth.
Instead you watch her walk down the beach, following the sound of her warm laugh, the brightness of her eyes. "Eh, they could do worse," you reply, feeling some warmth in your face at the flattery. "More like I've been in their place often enough."
Fuck, why is this so awkward? You trail behind her another couple feet, frustration steadily growing as you silently curse yourself. What the fuck you doin', mate? She's clearly not weirded out, and you can feel this situation getting away from you by the minute.
One thing left to do, then, and one way left to do it. Deep breath. Put on your big boy pants. "Vai... Shit looks different in the daylight," you murmur without any eloquence, looking at the sky beyond the pair of you. "I look different. But... I still like the look'a you. With or without clothes." This last part you add with a lift of your eyebrow, trying hard not to look for all the world like a suave and dapper smuggler and not a boy with a crush. "An' if you still like the look'a me, well..."
Smooth, you moron. Smooth.
ZEPHYR
