She laughed and told me I knew nothing of the world.
“You’re too young. You’ve got a lot to learn. White wine is all the rage cause it fills you up and is served with a chill. Little chickadees drink it up cause they think it gives them a thrill.”
She tossed her brown hair back and continued, “As for me, I drink red wine. It soothes the soul and makes me lose control. It makes me feel dangerous.”
She pulled me by the arm towards her.
“You look like the type of guy that knows how to make a girl feel pretty,” she laughed.
I pondered her words for a brief second as she kissed my forehead and sauntered away. Her hips swayed from side to side with each step – a sight always so mesmerizing.
”Pretty is a state of mind and built upon the false bravado of those ads in Teen Magazine. Your green eyes never deceive and speak in volumes of what pretty means. Your confidence is alluring and when you walk you own the streets,” I told her.
The words struck a chord and she cut a sudden smile like something had connected. She bit her lip and slightly stuck her tongue out. She always does this when she is pleased or amused.
“I see,” she said matter-of-factly while turning away.
“And what is that you see, my dear,” I retorted.
She turned with a wry smile breaking across her face – lighting the entire room up before my very eyes.
“Perhaps you are ready to even skip a grade,” she said demonstrating to me how “throw pillows” got their name.