She watched with wide brown eyes, as he made the simple act of sitting into a graceful gesture. He reminded her of something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on – old aristocracy, perhaps? It was puzzling to say the least.
“Even my Mom hasn’t read any of them,” Her hands traced the worn creases on the cover in a feeble attempt to smooth them out. “She’s never been much of a reader, though.”
She blushed slightly once more, cursing her lack of conversational skills once again. Her heart was beating faster than usual, not out of fear, but of nerves. She was such a shy girl; he’d really picked the wrong person to make friends with.
“I’m Bella,” Her smile was genuine, and her voice was soft. “Nice to meet you.”