My name is Adam, and being a 19 year old, 6-foot-2 second year Senior at the high school, I'm one of maybe six people who have relatively thick facial hair. By virtue of my genes I have wavy, off-black hair thats maybe a shade brown and reaches just passed my ears. A small mix of moose and gel will usually keep my hair behaved, combed back behind my ears but in no way flat to my head like my father! That man is the picturesque Italian Ginnie! He's ex-military and overweight but hides a lot of muscle. Me, I'm a bit stocky as well. The only hard labor I typically see is the weekend truck-receiving job at Shoprite. Saturday and Sunday, 4-10pm at $8.50 an hour usually leaves me $200 per paycheck -after taxes. Not much considering phone bills, car insurance, and gas prices, but luckily I still live above my parents garage and don't have to worry about any other bills for the time being.
Thats what I told Heather, a short, attractive and good friend of mine for about 9 months now. She's a Senior too, works at this fast food joint a few blocks from the school 3 or 4 days a week, five in the afternoon-close. When she wasn't manning the grill or arguing with an obese customer who wanted a refund because the tripple bacon cheeseburger he just ate was bacon-less, I did really feel bad for her, and I suppose the fact that she was literally under a foot shorter than me didn't help! Still, I was driving her home cause she lived in the village next to mine and I know just what kind of hell the bus ride can be.
I've always thought she was good looking, even managed to told her a few times when her boyfriend wasn't in earshot. That had been the one downer with her, Ashley Heather Bowman had been happily taken since before I met her. Though she'd been to my place a few times, admired my several-hundred-dollar, semi hollow body Ibanez (my greatest investment), watched a movie or something, and headed back home, I always found myself still thinking of her hours later. |