One evening I saw him on one of the stationary bikes. I gathered my courage and sat down on the bike next to him, without looking at him. Partway through the ride, however, we happened to glance at each other, and I noticed for the first time how striking his blue eyes were, set amongst all that black hair—heavy dark eyebrows and lashes—and olive skin. I was so struck by them that I think I stared. But he simply smiled and nodded.
A minute or so later we exchanged glances again, and he grinned and pointed at my lower half.
“You really liven up the place,” he said.
I felt myself flush with excitement at the compliment. But I still asked, “What?”
“Those shorts,” he said. “Colorful.”
“Oh.” My intoxication collapsed. “Thanks!”
A pause. Then, “And those legs.”
“What?” The thrill returned
