Some conversations transcend sanity by the third or fourth word. Case in point...
"Will you make me a blog?"
I was busily digging through my little leather bound bible looking for a vague reference to Jonathan (found it, by the way). I may have grunted in a manner that indicated mild curiosity.
"Hon?"
"Mmmph?"
"Will you make me a blog?"
I looked up. Ahmed has these astonishing eyes. He's got a great body; everything hangs from his shoulders like it's just been pressed. But his eyes grab you first. They're neither brown nor hazel. They are hammered brass, a brilliant amber that never ceases to take my breath away. If I'd never had visions of romance novels in my head prior to Aji, I am saturated with them in the age of Ajism. (Please, no gamey emails about puns.)
"Why do you want a blog?"
I'll give him this: he had the good grace to squirm.
"I just want one. Can you set it up and make it look cool and then I'll take over?"
How can a mature man (chronologically, anyway) with so much education sound so much like a 13 year old whining for a new skateboard?
"You're a busy man, babe, where will you find the time?"
"I just will."
"What brought this on?"
More squirming. Examination of fingernails. Nicely formed buttock propped on the edge of his desk. Long leg dangling in a suspiciously casual swing.
Right. He's got an ulterior motive.
"Spill it."
"Well... what did that shirt mean, the one you thought was so funny?"
Now I'm swimming through recent memory with a face so twisted with perplexity I look like a botox poster child. What the hell is he---- OOOOOOOOH!
"Do you mean," I ask slowly, "the one that said 'you're cute, wanna link blogs?'"
He's only got 10 fingernails. There can't possibly be anything that interesting beneath them. I decide to let the silence drag on.
It drags on.
"I want to be the first guy who links to you."
The eyes hook you, but the grin-- oh, man-- that boyish, goofy grin delivers the knockout punch.
So anyway I'm thinking about letting this really sweet guy link to me...
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