Your pink nail polish caught my eye, as you swung our hands that were intertwined.
When you turned, the scent of roses wafted to my nose from your flowing strands.
When you turned, the scent of roses wafted to my nose from your flowing strands. I tried to ignore that and instead savoured my strawberry drink as we walked down the street.
You called it a date.
You called it a date. I agreed.
Your rosy glossed lips stretched into a smile the moment you caught my eye, your cheeks the same rosy hue.
Suddenly bashful, I shied away from your gaze. My hand left yours and twirled my hair, my fidgeting habit. My face continued to burn from you persistent gaze.
Then you pulled me in with a hand behind my neck.
Your lips tasted like strawberries and roses.