Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
He's really staring at me, and just when I start thinking it might be the same for him, and Mr. Mine has also fallen in love with me, that's the moment I see his gaze lower to my chest...and stay at my chest.
Oh gosh.
Does this mean Mr. Mine is quite the perv?
This should probably make me mad, but then I remember that I actually don't have any chest to speak of, and another gasp breaks out of my throat as soon as my glance drifts down to my body.
Oh my God, self!
Rain has turned my striped top semi-translucent, and I realize it's made me seem like I've been flaunting my boobs at Mr. Mine for the past thirty seconds.
I hurriedly cross my arms over my chest when Mr. Mine rises to his feet, but instead of walking towards me as I hoped feared, he disappears into a door behind the counter, and I immediately have this urge to knock my head against the wall.
You are such a fool, self!
I can't believe I almost convinced myself that someone like Mr. Mine has fallen head over heels for me at first sight. I used to think having oodles of 2D boyfriends is enough to give me a Ph.D on love, but that obviously isn't the case, and I now have my first lesson in real-life romance.
Just because the world stopped turning for you...doesn't mean the world also stopped turning for him.
Got that, self?
I fidget on my feet as my newfound knowledge on unrequited love makes me consider leaving. What's the point of prolonging my torment when he obviously doesn't find me attrac—-
"Holy whack-a-moley!"
Mr. Mine is apparently a ninja in disguise, with him suddenly standing in front of me.
"Apologies."
His voice is deep but soft, and is that an accent I'm hearing? I'm not quite sure if I'm right, but what I'm certain of is how the sound of his voice has my boobs swelling against the still-wet cups of my bra.
"I'm sorry, too," I say sheepishly. "I know I have the weirdest expressions—-"
Mr. Mine gently cuts me off. "I thought you might want this." He hands over a package wrapped in plastic, and I blink in surprise when I realize it's this brand new set of uniform, and it's exactly the same with what the guy behind the cash registrar is wearing.
How did he get a hold of this?
Does it mean he works here, too, or does he own the whole place?
To put it very simply, all I want to know is if the cafe is the best place to see him again, but before I can say even one word, Mr. Mine is already nodding at a door behind me—-
"The ladies' is that way."
His tone is polite but firm, and it's daunting enough that all I can do is nod meekly in mute thanks before turning away.
You are such a shameful coward, self!
I'm usually this really upbeat person, and my friends back home have even taken to calling me Mad Maddy over the years because I can be so crazy positive even at the worst of times. I've never found myself tongue-tied or intimidated...until now.
Until him.
And surely...surely that can only mean what I'm feeling is real, and I am truly in love with Mr. Mine?
Uh...no?
That's my inner voice of reason groaning at such logic, and if Grandpa Paco were to know what thoughts are currently running through my mind, I'm pretty sure it will have him marry me off to one of his friends' sons or godsons or whatever other kind of son there is, and he won't even care if I'm screaming and kicking while he drags me down the aisle.
Oh, what to do, what to think, what to feel?
I can only sigh as I get out of my wet clothes, and I sigh again when I catch my reflection on the full-length mirror.
I'm being a fool, aren't I, self?
Even if I can prove that what I feel for Mr. Mine is real, what would be the point when he doesn't seem to find me attractive at all? He's seen me almost naked, and instead of making him want to kiss me, what he did instead was swiftly look for something I can change into.
It's almost like he can't stand the sight of me naked, and um...ouch?
My gaze swings back to my reflection, and all I can do is grimace.
So my boobs are rather small, fine. But just like the size of a man's package isn't supposed to matter, then shouldn't the same apply when it comes to a woman's boobs? And besides—-
Have you forgotten, Maddy San Jose?
When I was young, one of Nanny Rosa's favorite bedtime stories to tell was how Mama and Papa fell in love, and how Mama, even though she was not the prettiest girl in the island, had won Papa over because of the beauty of her heart.