There was a moment—one of those strange, fleeting moments that feel like they don’t quite belong to reality. I was standing at the counter, waiting, when I felt someone step up behind me.
A tall girl, or at least, that was my first impression. She had pale skin dusted with freckles, a quiet kind of grace about her. Her hair was an odd in-between—neither fully blonde nor ginger, yet not quite orange either, as if it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. She carried a worn beige bag, adorned with one or two delicate butterfly hairpins. She seemed distracted, eyes flitting across her phone screen, frustration evident in the way she kept tapping and swiping. Probably locked out of her account. Then, as if suddenly noticing me, she reached forward and lightly tugged at my tie.
“Hey,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Could you do me a favor and pay for that pack of tobacco? My banking app won’t let me in.”
I froze. Something about the way she spoke caught me off guard. A second passed before it hit me—the timbre of her voice, deep and unmistakably masculine. It was a moment of realization that felt like standing on the edge of understanding something bigger than myself.
She—or he—or perhaps something in between—tugged at my tie again, this time with a playful insistence.
“Oh, and could you get me a bottle of water too?” A grin stretched across her lips as she lifted the bottle into view, her expression both mischievous and expectant. “Pretty please?”
I hesitated. There was a strange pull to her presence, something that felt both calculated and effortless. Like I was being subtly swayed by some invisible force.
Still, I found myself nodding. “You don’t have to pay me back,” I murmured, not entirely sure why I said it.
She beamed at me, a knowing kind of smile. “Yeah, people tend to like me,” she said with a smirk. “Guess I have that effect. But you… you’re the first girl to offer to do this for me.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “I’m kinda taken aback. Do you want my number?”
I blinked. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. No offense, but… I like guys.”
She chuckled, a small laugh that felt like it held a secret. “Oh, please. I can read people like a book. And you…” Her voice wavered for just a moment, almost uncertain. “You’re not as sure as you think.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then she leaned in slightly, her expression shifting from playful to something softer, something almost curious.
“Tell me,” she murmured, “do you have feelings for me?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
She smiled again, triumphant. “Bingo".
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