Descriptive Essay - Original Writing - 1559 Words

â€Å"I love your green eyes, they stand out on that pale face of your’s, and the brown curly hair just mixes with that perfectly.† He says slowly. â€Å"Okay then.† I say and look around embarrassed. I then look at him, he’s not half bad himself, he has dusty blonde hair, he has it cut as a â€Å"surfer dude,† he has freckles and he has bright blue eyes. Then I realize I’ve been staring. â€Å"Oh, sorry.† I look away. â€Å"It’s okay.† He says and I look back up at him. Then he pushes his hair behind his ear and I see a scar, it goes from his left shoulder all the way up to his left eye. I end up staring at that. Then he realizes I’m looking at it and he covers it up with his hair. He has a strong build, and he’s tall. He stands up and walks to the window.†¦show more content†¦Ã¢â‚¬Å"Neither do I.† I say back and slowly open the door. It s the boy I scared away in the common room. Except this time he didn t have a shirt on. I started to blush but I couldn t help but look, he had a ton of scars on his chest. He picked up his shirt and slipped it on. â€Å"Life sucks.† He says and smiles at me. He has a pretty smile. I just stare at his smile, then he starts to laugh and then I realize I’m invading his privacy. â€Å"Oh, sorry, maybe I should get out.† I say and start to back out of his room. â€Å"Oh, no you don t.† He says and grabs my arm. â€Å"You can’t just gape at me and my scars and then not stay and talk to me.† â€Å"Okay.† I say and walk into his room. I look at him. He looks back. â€Å"You are really pretty, what’s your name?† He says â€Å"I am not pretty, my name is Rosanne, but my friends call me Ros.† I say. â€Å"Well, I wanna call you Rose, you’re as pretty as one so it matches perfectly.† â€Å"I am not pretty surfer boy.† I start to blush. â€Å"My names Mickey , Mickey Johnson. Not ‘surfer boy’.† He says and smiles. I can feel my face getting hotter. I can’t help but reach my left hand up to his shoulder and touch the scar, I trace it all the way up to his eye, his bright blue eyes. I stare into his eyes still touching the scar, tracing it back and forth without looking at it. His face starts to get red too. He grabs my wrist when my hand is right on his cheek and he just holds it there, I flatten my hand out on his cheek. â€Å"How did you get