läkme's pov

he placed his foot on the back of his drum set, resting his feet from all the drumming.

i didn't even know him, but I loved how he did it. His brown sandals, one stereotypical for an elderly man's, looked perfect on him. i secretly hoped he didn't have a wife. just secretly.

and then, he leaned forward, perching his elbow on his right knee, and stared at me in awe, even after I had looked at him, blushed and stopped looking at him.

he just admired me like I did him.

and now, I'm remembering all those compliments I've gotten about being beautiful and fit...

was it really true?

am I that pretty?