Beautiful After Sunset

He wants to be seen by only few. The mass makes him anxious. I did’t believe him because he made his wealth from his look, not his talent. His shyness, to me, is a gift. An unassuming man is so attractive.

We always meet after sunset when people barely make out who they see. It suits us to tug away somewhere fading into the evening lights. He is so beautiful and soft. I always want to pinch his cheeks to make them blush for me, and I almost tell him that he is my triple crush, all in the span of sharing a burger and fries.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. I am caught off guard, I choke on some pickles, coughing and laughing. Finally when I regain my breath. I look into his eyes and say, “you are beautiful after sunset.” He fixes his gaze on me and holds my hands, slowly and softly, he murmurs, “I only bloom at night.” Oh mine, I have just discovered his poetic talent. “And you are more than a pretty face.” I chuckle.