《girls in like》 Episode 1: the boy from the opposite line I had just wrapped up a Hinge date over tapas and drinks at Bar Topa from Palings Lane. My ''date'' had shown me his share and cryptocurrency portfolio and 20 mins later I had left him with a bottle of lager and his ''net-worth'' for the train station at 7pm. Nestling myself on a train from Wynyard with my book in tow, a stranger settled next to me and flashed out a novel. He pointed at our book covers, "Same title. Same author. What are the odds?" I wanted to tell him he was mistaken. Nothing about our books were the same. I was about to point out his error when he raised his hand towards mine for a handshake. "I digress. our books are not the same. I just wanted to find an excuse to talk to you" he murmured as he rubbed his palms over his black trousers when his offer for a handshake went unanswered a little too late. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I was about to respond when i saw him about to leave. Instantly, my hand gripped his forearm encased in a black lam¨¦ shirt sleeve and replied "I''m happy to do a book swap." Leaning down to sit, I saw a glimmer of his silver necklace over his black turtleneck and the shimmer of his lam¨¦ shirt. It dazzled me. He had yet to dismiss my hand from his sleeve and I felt he wouldn''t. Beaming, he replied "I will gladly read Ana Huang''s ''Twisted Love'' in exchange for your review of Stieg Larsson''s ''The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo¡¯. You can tell me why you like Ana¡¯s novels.¡± "What station is yours? I''d hate to over-talk." "Green Square, opposing lines. I saw you at Wynyard and thought I''d take a gambit. If it failed I''d change trains" he shrugged as he ruffled his tanned hand through his short black afro curls. "I actually don''t mind staying on this train until you leave. I want to hear you talk about your book." NB : My hand hadn''t left his forearm even after two return train trips to the city and back. Episode 4: my art teacher and i Leading me into his house filled with easels, canvases and indoor plants, I set my art pad by the glass coffee table and waited for his instructions. Gesturing for me to sit, he took out his gold-rimmed aviator glasses from his pants pocket and headed towards his open kitchen to make me a coffee. Without specs, he was like a handsome blind mouse. With specs, he was an even more handsome mouse. I had enlisted him to teach me how to sketch. I was an infant at art and he was my teacher instructing my adult-self how to draw proper circles because I had wanted to draw cute animals. In turn he had explained that I needed to understand how to draw circles because without them, my animals would not look round and cute. Passing me my coffee, he flipped through my pages of circles from over my shoulder. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. "They¡¯re too oval-shaped. Hold the pencil with the underhand grip and mimic stirring a pot of soup as the tip touches the page" he commanded. My hands trembled as I felt his intense stare on my fingers. Wanting to distract him, I asked, "would I able to get an extra helping of sugar in my latte?" Knowing and coy, I saw the edge of his upper lip curl as if he wanted to toy with me. Leaning down he placed his long fingers over my own. His ink-abstract patterned tie tucked in his knitted vest captured me and his scent of wood and spice made me heady. "Don''t procrastinate. Let me show you" he told me, his tone low and husky in my ear. With his hand gripping my pencil, I turned to him and admitted "I can''t draw when you''re making me nervous".

Smiling broadly, he loosened his tie around the collar with his left hand, "I can''t help you draw either when all I want to do is look at you".

"Do you want to draw me?" I asked. "More than that, I think". Episode 5: misfits at midnight He always comes in around 10pm which is when I start closing up my parents shop in Newtown. 10pm is prime time for misfits to rush in for last-minute contraceptives and smokes. So when he first came in with a white cravat, black leather jacket and a hairstyle from circa. 2010 (which is trending now), I figured he¡¯d want the same. Instead each weekend he comes in, he¡¯d ask me something new about myself. I tell him he¡¯s a creep every time but I always answer him. He always says in response, ¡°if you can tell me I¡¯m a creep with that tone of yours, I¡¯m not a creep to you¡±. It was another late-night shift at the shop when he came in. This time his gait looked different and when he opened his hand to place a box of condoms on the counter, I think I paled.

I was preparing to swipe the item and wish him a ¡°good night" when he looked straight at me and asked, "does me buying a box of condoms perturb you?"

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I bit my lip, I wanted to say no, do what you like with your life. But i couldn''t. He sighed and took the box from my hands. "I don''t need them. I just wanted to see if it bothered you if I was to buy them." Placing his palms on the counter, he leaned in close to me and whispered, "I can see that it does bother you and I don''t mind that at all". I groaned and crossed my arms, "you can buy ten boxes and that won¡¯t bother me". Smirking, he took another box from the neighbouring shelf, "than i will buy two boxes. One for you if I forget and one for me because I need them when I am with you". I told him he was stupid and lewd. He laughed and patted my head,

"That¡¯s my girl, I''m stupid in lewd for you. I like you, you know that".

I told him I knew and pocketed the box of condoms he bought me. You know, just saving it for a white night with vows. Episode 4: my art teacher and i Leading me into his house filled with easels, canvases and indoor plants, I set my art pad by the glass coffee table and waited for his instructions. Gesturing for me to sit, he took out his gold-rimmed aviator glasses from his pants pocket and headed towards his open kitchen to make me a coffee. Without specs, he was like a handsome blind mouse. With specs, he was an even more handsome mouse. I had enlisted him to teach me how to sketch. I was an infant at art and he was my teacher instructing my adult-self how to draw proper circles because I had wanted to draw cute animals. In turn he had explained that I needed to understand how to draw circles because without them, my animals would not look round and cute. Passing me my coffee, he flipped through my pages of circles from over my shoulder.Stolen novel; please report. "They¡¯re too oval-shaped. Hold the pencil with the underhand grip and mimic stirring a pot of soup as the tip touches the page" he commanded. My hands trembled as I felt his intense stare on my fingers. Wanting to distract him, I asked, "would I able to get an extra helping of sugar in my latte?" Knowing and coy, I saw the edge of his upper lip curl as if he wanted to toy with me. Leaning down he placed his long fingers over my own. His ink-abstract patterned tie tucked in his knitted vest captured me and his scent of wood and spice made me heady. "Don''t procrastinate. Let me show you" he told me, his tone low and husky in my ear. With his hand gripping my pencil, I turned to him and admitted "I can''t draw when you''re making me nervous".

Smiling broadly, he loosened his tie around the collar with his left hand, "I can''t help you draw either when all I want to do is look at you".

"Do you want to draw me?" I asked. "More than that, I think". Episode 5: misfits at midnight He always comes in around 10pm which is when I start closing up my parents shop in Newtown. 10pm is prime time for misfits to rush in for last-minute contraceptives and smokes. So when he first came in with a white cravat, black leather jacket and a hairstyle from circa. 2010 (which is trending now), I figured he¡¯d want the same. Instead each weekend he comes in, he¡¯d ask me something new about myself. I tell him he¡¯s a creep every time but I always answer him. He always says in response, ¡°if you can tell me I¡¯m a creep with that tone of yours, I¡¯m not a creep to you¡±. It was another late-night shift at the shop when he came in. This time his gait looked different and when he opened his hand to place a box of condoms on the counter, I think I paled.

I was preparing to swipe the item and wish him a ¡°good night" when he looked straight at me and asked, "does me buying a box of condoms perturb you?"

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I bit my lip, I wanted to say no, do what you like with your life. But i couldn''t. He sighed and took the box from my hands. "I don''t need them. I just wanted to see if it bothered you if I was to buy them." Placing his palms on the counter, he leaned in close to me and whispered, "I can see that it does bother you and I don''t mind that at all". I groaned and crossed my arms, "you can buy ten boxes and that won¡¯t bother me". Smirking, he took another box from the neighbouring shelf, "than i will buy two boxes. One for you if I forget and one for me because I need them when I am with you". I told him he was stupid and lewd. He laughed and patted my head,

"That¡¯s my girl, I''m stupid in lewd for you. I like you, you know that".

I told him I knew and pocketed the box of condoms he bought me. You know, just saving it for a white night with vows.