I should've known not to bum a cigarette off that guy. With those dangerously beautiful cerulean eyes... I should've known better. Or maybe it wasn't the bumming of the cigarette that I should've been so cautious of, but the sound of his voice as he told me his name, the way I felt it all the way down in my soul something so deliciously sexy that I could've jumped him right there in the street. "Justin," he said. I couldn't help thinking "how typical and simple and perfect and safe."
But from those assumptions alone I should've known how wrong I was. People can be typical, but they are never simple, nor perfect... someone so alluring... how could he possibly be safe? But I had needed that cigarette, I couldn't endure one more moment of sugar-free this, non-fat decaf that without wanting to shoot somebody.
Ha. "Shoot somebody." Could that have been any more ironic?
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