The boy wore a loose black plaid shirt with cuffs and brown trousers.
However,he got better the more Sandra looked. His jet black hair that had tousled griminess which promised finesse.
He had strong arched brows and eyelashes so thick, oh man, it could be illegal. And then his eyes- they were deep and catastrophic, a vivid dark hazel, that softly melted into a milky green.
This close, she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw, his light brown skin made him look devilishly handsome.
This man was pure poetry.
"I noticed you, from far away and I must say you are something else..."
He says with a smirk on his face.
"Tell me" Sandra begin to push herself on the swing as he leans against the tree whilst the fall leaves hang on the tree for dear life.
"What you call yourself?" She asked, still swinging.
"Malik" He says
"Malik..."
"Malik, what are you?"
She asked softly, looking over at him, his eyes meeting hers.
"I'm a white man" He scratched his head.
"White?" Sandra stopped swinging, now examining his light brown skin. There was no bit of white on this man, but here he was...Saying he was white.
"You're a African American"
Now rising from my swing
"No Ma'am. White"
Malik shook his head.
