Eleven

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"What's your favourite colour?"

"G-green, yours?"

"Guess."

I look a pretty boy.

"H-hot pink."

He laughs, I like his laugh.

"Nope." He sings, popping the 'p'.

"I d-don't know."

"I guess you'll never know."

I frown at him, but look away, blushing.

He was staring at me.

We walk through the park, it's the perfect time of year, not to hot or cold, with a gentle breeze, it's quite aesthetic, honestly.

"Can I hold you hand?" Pretty boy asks.

"No."

High Anxiety || phan   COMPLETEWhere stories live. Discover now