"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."
