Here's what he knows about her.
She eats an apple everyday. Often leaves the cores abandoned on the kitchen counter -- little reminders that there's a new body in the house.
She never leaves dirty dishes in the sink; makes them all feel really guilty for not cleaning up after themselves. He'll playfully hold his dirty dishes high above her head, but she always insists she loves doing the dishes. Who's he to argue with someone who'll willingly clean up after him? Yeah. No.
She takes really long showers every morning. She sings as she cooks. She's obsessed with making lists and leaves them laying around their apartment. She's intelligent and observant. Thoughtful, even.
He has a hard time ignoring her most of the time, but on days she wears a dress or short pants, he can't tear his disobedient eyes away from her legs.
She has really toned calves.
He can't stop staring at her calves and he knows she's noticed. There are times he'll look up to find a bemused expression on her face and others when it's amazing she hasn't spontaneously combusted from her flaming cheeks.
But the most important thing he's learned about her is that she doesn't know her own mind. She'll be smiling and friendly and flirtatious one minute, but the next, she'll transform into this overemotional, angry and easily irritated chick. He doesn't get how there's a switch somewhere inside her that makes her go from sane to loopy.
She's an enigma of sorts. Keeps him guessing at every turn.
He convinces himself that's why he can't stop thinking about her. He's a bad liar.
