She smiles sweetly at me, and my hand shakes. It is only a flutter, but I cannot tell if she sees it. She is different. She is not what she says she is. My heart pounds louder and I try to keep my face neutral. She is not what she claims to be.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the left like you always do and smiling that smile you've flashed at me so many times. I shake my head and force a grin across my face as I guard my phone with my hand, the text message from your number still fresh upon the screen.
"So I feel really bad, but I just woke up."
No actual sexy or pants were involved in this creative endeavor.
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If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all. (That means you, Darrell.)