I glanced over at her, again. Not a hair out of place, lips lightly glistening and the faintest of smiles playing over them, eyes bright, clothes smart, without being out of place. Rather than scruffy jeans, favoured by every other student in the college, she was wearing a skirt. Nothing outrageous, it fell to mid calf length and made you want to see more of their tanned well shaped form. Black, shiny high heel pumps with a peep toe. Legs crossed, demurely, and the heel on her free foot slipped free of her shoe as she swung the shoe gently back and forth.
I struggled to pay attention to what the lecturer was droning on about. She was making notes with her manicured hand and the bright red nail varnish flashed as she wrote. No rings on her fingers, just a delicate gold chain bracelet on her wrist. What was this lecture supposed to be about? How soon would it end, so that I could try and talk to her?
Coffee break time and I followed her into the student cafeteria. She sat down at a table with her coffee talking to two other girls, neither of whom I knew. Out of her hand bag she pulled a pack of cigarettes and lit one. I dived over to the cigarette machine and felt in my pockets for change. Enough for a packet of ten of the same brand she was smoking. I ripped off the cellophane packing and pulled out one of the white and brown cylinders. I had not smoked for years, since I had tried to look cool as a young teenager. I just hoped I would not cough too much. I casually, or as casually as I could pretend to, walked over to the table she was sitting at and asked if I could have a light.
I wonder if Pygmalion ever wished his Galatea would stop talking and become a lifeless statue once more? If she spoke as cruelly and harshly as this vision of loveliness then I think he would have. She pointed over my shoulder and said, “Go buy your own matches from the counter you cheapskate. Don't think I've not seen you gawking at me during the lecture. You've got no chance sonny boy.”