felt like the first time

She leaned over him, he could distinctly smell the faint traces of perfume. Her blonde wavy hair just about fell on his lap. He tried not to feel all blushy by this entire act. She sat down back on her seat and looked back to her friends. And what followed after that was only something an Italian could understand.
He stole a look at her , her cheeks were the color of pale orange , blue radiant eyes and beautiful blonde hair. She was the epitome of cuteness, and he could sense a hundred different feelings melting away in euphoria.
Blue eyes, yes it was the blue eyes …. Hmmm yes definitely the blue eyes. But probably also the orange cheeks … before he could complete his chain of thoughts she brushed her blonde hair and again smiled randomly. She got and leaned over .. what was it. Now he was curious too. After all they were in a stationary aeroplane , and the only thing remotely interesting would be … it was difficult to ascertain. But to make sure he looked out too, but found nothing significant that could catch a girls attention. Maybe Italian girls liked to look at runways. He looked upwards, cheers to low cost airlines and their no seat number policy. He could visualize his friends saying “dude didn’t you go there and sit right next to her.” he was all lost in a strange land. it was not that big a city but he felt strange. He took a seat by the window as soon as he could and sat smugly in the corner waiting for the flight to leave.
Suddenly he saw someone familiar placing a bag in the seat right next to him. He looked and saw the girl’s friend. Ah atleast someone interesting , if not the cute girl who he saw during check in atleast her friend sits next to him. But god must have been really happy with him. The cute girl did indeed most definitely sit next to him. The joy in his heart knew no bounds, it felt like the first time he saw a really cute girl. He knew he had to talk to her and talk to her he did. But obviously he didn’t account for the fact that Italians speak English as good as he spoke italian, well there are exceptions in every case.
After another round of the same getting-up-leaning-looking at the runway, obviously nothing he complained of the plane started on its journey. He knew that this journey was going to be interesting. The only thought that stuck in his brain was , play the tourist card ..play the tourist card … and obiously now that his brain was converging to a pea size faster than his algorithms he couldn’t think of any other brilliant ideas. He removed the map of leuven , looked at it , turned it square and upside down. From the corner of his eye he looked if she even noticed but alarmingly she buried herself in a book. Damn it. Not the way a girl who leans over and looks at runway react. He had to seize the moment but at the same time act cool.
“excuse me, hi I am going to Belgium for the first time and was wondering if you could help.”
And she turned , oh god that beautiful eyes, it was hard not to look away. She smiled, and instantly he forgot almost everything.
“yhes hyes .. my help you want” the accent killed it. He knew all he wanted to do on the journey was listen to her.
After explaning that he wanted help with directions and his first time in Belgium confused him to no extent. She looked very thoughtfully
“ well my first time too but I can help if you want to translate something to English.” Damn where were those French maps when you need them.
Obviously with no exotic language maps he had to go back to quiet-think-new-idea to talk to cutest girl ever. Then after what seemed ages he blurted. “excuse me, but I am kinda bored and we could speak about something if you like.”
She smiled, a radiant smile … okk he got to stop describing.
“of kourshe wheare aaaree you from and whaet do you .. sorry whaaet you dho here.” He smiled and now he was in his elements. Obviously she apologized that since her English was in a bad shape she couldnt talk much. The conversation was delightful, she laughed at his jokes … well the jokes were good too. And then every other moment she would turn back laughing, giggling with her friends in Italian. He wished he had a secret Italian translator. But how did he know that after today he wouldn’t talk to her again anyways.