Cute. Strong, Sassy. Sporty. Smart. Like a little orange crosstrek on ice. No wonder I was crushing on you.
Then we had a few minutes. Off-ice time. Heat of the day heavy on all our shoulders. You opened your mouth and it stayed open.
Party animal.
Fun girl.
Not really my type.
Still no reason why I can't look into your bright eyes looking back into mine and fantasize about flying flailing gliding flinging myself across the room and sticking my tongue into that open mouth of yours.
All clammy and post-game sticky sweaty.
Little bit of beer breath.
Smelling like ice and rubber mats.
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