The Captain and The Queen
As we walked toward the gym, I couldn’t stop looking back at this beautiful girl.
Designer suitcase in hand, she wore a navy-blue overcoat over a pleated blue-plaid skirt, crisp white shirt, white headband, white socks, and shiny black patent-leather shoes. She looked like a prep-school poster child.
There was a vulnerable elegance about her. She must have felt me staring, because she turned and looked right at me. She arched a shapely eyebrow and smiled. It was subtle. One of those beneath-the-lashes smiles, with a slight upturn of the sides of her mouth.
At that moment, my heart melted. I literally gasped for breath.
Then, a man, who I assumed to be her father, pulled up beside her. He followed her gaze and was not happy to see me standing at the end of it.
“Calista! This way. Come!” he barked.
She frowned immediately, faced the building, and followed the man inside.
“Calista,” I whispered with a smile.
I had her first name. And a smile. That’ s a helluva start.