They shared the same
hookah, but each with their own plastic mouthpiece. They socialized with their
own group of friends, back facing one another yet completely unaware that they spied
on each other for quite some time. It was her turn to take a puff and she
inhaled as much as her little lungs could handle, simultaneously smiling at the
young man watching her. As she exhaled, the vibrant white smoke hit her fibers
so hard that she coughed uncontrollably. Completely embarrassed and still
smiling as she coughed her face red, she could do nothing but hide her face in
her hands. The young man, turned to face her, rubbed her back gently and asked
“Are you okay?” His smirk was sincere and you could tell he was trying his
hardest not to laugh. For the sake of appearing "cool" to those
around her, she acted like coughing was inevitable and replied, “Ya, I’m good.”
He took notice and chuckled to himself. “Hey! It’s not funny,” she said as she
shyly hit his arm. “Ouch, it is cute though.” He said aloud as her rubbed his
“wound.”
“You
try it then tough guy!” She proclaimed as she passed the hose of the hookah to
him. Nonchalantly, he inhaled as much as he could, inflating his chest to show
his strength. And like predicted, he coughed just as hard. “Ha!” She said as
she pointed at him. “Well, this is a strong one,” he said trying to revive his
voice from the pre-pubescent tone it was stuck in. “Yah, sure.” She said.
---
Had they chosen, that was a chance at love.
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