"You're embarrassed of me.".

She was about one meter behind him, and as he turned to look at her. God, he was embarrassed to look at her. When his friends find out he has been mingling with a girl such as the likes of her, what would they say.

But he looked at her, intently. She was not a whore, he thought. Whores were despised but he couldn't put a finger why  he despised this girl. She was besotted with him, he thought. Look at the way she looked at him with starry eyes, and when he held her hand, it was tense and clammy and cold. She was nervous around him.

Then walking back to her, he held her face in his two hands. "I'm not embarrassed of you," he coolly lied.

She never saw him again.


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Published by Joanne Giselle Degamo