Date: January 4, 2005
Location: Radcliffe Camera, Oxford
As I was sitting in the library today reading a much better book than the last book I read, my skin felt a weird tingling sensation. My eyes darted all around the dim quiet room until I finally spotted a guy in a nearby table looking at me and smirking. I stared at him for a second and returned to my book. Five minutes later and the skin tingling continued, so I looked up and asked him if I had something on my face.
"No," he answered, unfazed.
"Oh. Okay."
After another five minutes of trying to ignore his gaze, I went with, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I don't think so," he answered. "But --"
I think he was about to say something but I had already returned to reading my book, and I was too embarrassed or stupid to look up and ask him to continue his thought.
Ten minutes later and I'm still on page 79, and I've long since forgotten what my book is about.
"Why are you staring at me?" I demanded.
"You're fun to look at, I guess."
"Oh. Okay."
"You definitely beat this thing I'm reading." And he held up his book.
Is this what people call flirting? my lousy brain wondered.
"I like Smollett," I told him, and left.
As I walked out into the heavy rain with my book still unfinished and nobody to flirt with, I decided that this was probably a bad move.
