I thought I was dining alone for breakfast this morning, until I looked up and there he was staring directly at me… Mr. August AKA Hot Calendar Guy. I looked away and then I looked back, he was still staring at me and maybe even smiling a little. I got up to put the washing on. His gaze followed me. I came back. He watched me sit down and sip at my tea. I was actually immune to his power, until today (he’s grown on me).
He hasn’t really dressed for the occasion. I’m in my pyjamas, he’s in his abs with my flatmate’s name tattooed proudly across his chest. He hasn’t really said much, just pierced me with his enchanting eyes and thought bubbled amazing compliments directed towards me. Really…. he could maybe have.
Since Hot Calendar Guy has graced the flat with what will probably become a permanent wall feature, he has not only affected me but the rest of my flatties. When we first flicked from July to August, knees went weak and fantasies began.
“He’s the hottest guy in the whole calendar! Where did he come from?” Came a surprised response (the pickings for the rest of the year were clearly not in the same calibre).
I actually got a text last week, from my student flatmate while I was at work. ‘Can’t study in my room cos its cold. Can’t study in the kitchen cos the hot calendar guy keeps watching me.’
I got home that evening to find his windows to the soul covered with a bright green post-it. The post-it has since been removed and his shirt-less beauty once again fully takes precedence in the kitchen.
With less than twenty days of reading the calendar and him reading our minds, the flat’s future husband will have to succumb to the perils of the September page turn… Unless I ‘date’ him first!