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Oh, lord. My mind is quickly turning dirty.
“Alex,” I sigh.
“Fine.” He laughs. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Seriously?” I scoff. “How original.”
“Let me guess,” he says, pausing. “Purple.”
“How did you know?”
“Your room,” he says simply
“Maybe I just prefer purple to pink. My favorite color could be yellow or green.”
“No. You like purple because is suits you. Royal and sophisticated, with a side of dark and dirty.”
“I’ve never been described as that before. Always just the good girl, and the mom of the group.”
“I never would have guessed that, gorgeous.”
“I know,” I tell him, then whisper, “I like your description better. I think you see me.”
“I do”–he pauses–“and I think you see me.”
“I’m starting to,” I say softly. I want to know more, though. I want to dive deeper.
“You’ve seen more than I’ve ever let anyone.”
Smiling, I bite my comforter to keep from making any sounds of excitement.
So, maybe I am just a little different to him than other girls.
“And I like what I’ve seen,” I admit. “Now, let me guess your favorite color. Black?”
Laughing, he says, “No, it’s actually green.”
“Green? Seriously?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Your eyes,” I say without thinking.
“Believe it or not, gorgeous, I’m not so self-centered that I’d pick my favorite color off of my eyes.” He laughs lightly. “I grew up surrounded by deep green pine trees. They always fascinated me. I’d spend hours outside playing when I was a kid, running around them.”
“I get that,” I say. “My mother loves to garden. And she always filled the garden beds around our patio with purple flowers. I would spend every nice day out there, lying next to them, looking up at the sky, and picking petals to play he loves me, he loves me not. My mom would always get mad at me for picking the flowers she spent so much time growing, and told me I was wasting them by picking the petals off.”
“Did you ever figure out if he loved you?” he asks.
“No.” I laugh. “I didn’t. But I think it’s safe to say none of them did.”
“What? How many have there been?”
“Alex,” I warn. “That’s not a question you should ask.”
“Mel,” he says back in the same tone. “I just want to know my competition, and if there’s any men out there wishing they still had you.”
“Alex, no, there’s not. It was just a stupid game I played. No boys ever really loved me.”
