Sideways: How To Believe A Compliment

The cashier’s eyes are mesmerizing. They’re blue-green, lit from within, and provide an electric shock of colour amidst the black of her hair and white of her skin. Beautiful. I can’t stop looking that them, or her.

I order an omelette and F orders a turkey sandwich and the two of us claim a table for six at the window. We’re expansionist like that. We’re talking about something – anything – everything – our conversations go like that – and I notice him noticing something about me. He looks at me like he’s seen something different or new or maybe not quite right. It is probably my hair. It is a mess of waves pulled into a haphazard ponytail. I brush a wayward strand out of my eyes and off my face and feel self-conscious. Maybe I should have straightened it this morning.

The girl with the Aegean eyes brings us our order. As she walks away, F tells me she looked him straight in the eyes and smiled.

“That’s ‘cuz you’re so pretty,” I tease. But I’m not really teasing. My friend is beautiful. Women – cashiers, customers, friends, six year olds, sixty year olds – love him. He loves them back.

“Did you see her eyes?” he asks. “They’re amazing. They look just like yours. That’s what I was looking at when I was looking at you and made you uncomfortable.”

About the author

Kelly Diels I'm Kelly Diels. I'm a writer, the founder of Cleavage (The Lines that Shape Us), and I wrote this blog post just for you. You can also find me on Twitter and darlin', please do. xoxo, K

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