My eyes could not believe it. Sitting in this purgatory of a math class, bored to tears (if tears are stifled yawns), my brain could not comprehend why a creature of such beauty has decided to grace me in it’s radiance. She walked, nay, glided across the ugly carpet with such grace a poise, and in a fluid movement, extended to the teacher a note among the binders and books she held. The matron scans the notes, and then gestures to the seat next to me. Heart pounding, I was now so grateful for picking this otherwise horrendous seat, because, luckily, my seat was the only one next the previously empty seat. She flashed the teacher a quick smile, exposing for a moment a perfect row of pristine teeth, nodded her head in thanks, and floated over to the once empty seat, now hers, much to my delight.
Almost instantly, my attention to the class perked up, but it was focused elsewhere. Immediately, I started thinking of excuses to sneak glances at her, to remember every detail about her, except there are only so many times you can drop your pencil.
From what I gathered through out the class using my keen observational skills and Sherlock-esque detecting prowess, She had black hair, hazel eyes, black framed glasses, small nose, full lips, amber skin, long legs, curvy and full figured with an interesting taste in clothing. But to put it like that is so cold, harsh. Doesn’t even describe such an amazing girl. To better put it, I’d say:
She has sheets of long, curly kinky hair,Black as night with a sheen like stars, constantly flowing with every slight moment, the ocean’s midnight reflection. she has eyes that pierce the air, deep hazel eyes, browns and greens with fleck of blue, like the stereotypical mythical forests of fairy tales, woods that glow and pulse with life and mystery, threatening to lose you in every turn the longer you stay captivated. And these forests are framed and covered with an adorable pair of glasses that meshes perfectly with her oval face, slightly covered at the top by her long swept across bangs. These glasses, clearly made for her and her alone, like some kind of optical version of King Arthurette, thick rimmed and black, sat upon a elfish nose, small and pointed, with, in turn, rested above full, pert lips that uttered the most glorious of sounds, music in spoken form, and I swore to have it say my name. She had the look of sass, of wit and humour and intelligence, but I’ll never know until I get a chance to talk to her. All this was upon a back drop of amber hues, a dark golden tone with a touch of red. And below that face, to put in more gentlemanly terms, was, well, you could say she was well endowed, front and back. She was by no means skinny, could never be a supermodel, but was all the better from it, rubenesque, if you will. She had legs that ran forever, and tapered off into adorable, petite feet, encased in purple vans. Those gams were wrapped in a pair of tight fitting black jeans, caressing those sculpted thighs like the hands of the damned. Above that was a loose fitting whitish greyish hoodie, the colour of the stormy sky at sea, hinting slyly at the curves that lied beneath. She had a silver ring on one hand, shaped like a vine wrapped around that beautiful finger, and her nails were painted a brilliant sky blue at the end of each slender digit. I yearned to know who this was, this goddess who sat not three feet from from, one seat over.
And then the bell rang. Caught off guard, I clumsily put away my blank notes, shoving everything haphazardly into my back pack as she got up to talk to the teacher. Luckily, however, my delay paid off; as she walked away from teach, she said good bye, in that angelic voice, the teacher replied in kind, with a “Have a good day, Ashley.”
What a perfect name for a perfect person.