The Time He Saw Her

The Eighth Time He Saw Her

The eighth time he saw her she was at an ice cream parlor.

She had worn big sunglasses and a pretty skirt. He noticed the long sleeved top, but didn't do more than that. After all, she just stood there, leaning against a lamp post waiting for him. For him. Just the thought made him nervous, but giggly like a schoolgirl.

He had the biggest smile on his face, giving her a hug before they even could think about another way of greeting each other. She smiled. He knew her pretty eyes were twinkling under the brown glass.

"Hello, handsome."

She had given him a compliment. His smile grew possibly a little bit wider, even though he wished he could do the same. She knew too, which made her feel guilty. But the guilt soon washed away when he carefully took her hand and led her away to the line to get ice cream.

He didn't have to give his own order, she did it for him. It did impress him, even though he felt a little helpless.

By the end of the day, they ended up on their favorite spot, in the sand, on the beach. For old times sake they had picked up the poodle on the way. He wasn't all too happy about it, but she had insisted.