The woman turned the page and I got a full view of her face, my heart jumping at the sight of it. She was more than gorgeous, with light blonde hair sliced to a pixie cut that somehow fit her perfectly. When I gave myself a pixie cut long ago, I had to endure three months of looking like a schoolboy…let's just say it was a real hat-heavy summer for Zoe that year.

But this woman had none of that problem. The hair accentuated her angular features and gave room for her to show off her earrings, all black and silver with one of those industrials that went through the top of the ear that seemed like it would be incredibly painful, but looked so damn cool. She had a sharp, model-like look to her face, eyebrows carefully trimmed but not overplucked, seemingly in a permanent just barely intrigued arch.

I had to talk to her. I had to talk to her about the book. I always had difficulties striking up conversations with women, even after the vast collection of inspiration that I'd gleaned from Nicole Marcel's books…but now, one of her books was giving me the exact reason to talk to this stunning woman.

At the next station, the people in the car shifted and shuffled, and I moved toward the door before backing away, trying to look natural. When the train started moving again, the woman was in the same position as before: one arm wrapped around the pole, her hand with luxuriously long fingers capped with ruby red nails that were cut impeccably short…a good sign that she didn't just read Ms. Marcel's work, she probably practiced what Nicole Marcel preached. A cute black leather purse dangled from her elbow, and she was holding the copy of Selection to her face. I had gotten close enough to her to see that she was about halfway through, when things started getting really, really hot and heavy for the protagonists.

"Um…I really…really like that book." I said. God, I probably sounded like some kind of goblin with my early morning voice not accustomed to the very little talking I did on any day.

Her eyes, which seemed to be the lightest green imaginable, peered over the edge of the book, regarding me like a lioness watches an impala who has foolishly stumbled away from the herd. "Oh, uh…yeah." She said. "It's pretty amazing…I just got past the part where Rory and Irene are at the party and kiss for the first time…" The woman looked like she was suppressing a naughty smile, and I think I knew why.

"Well, I mean…they did a lot more than kissing after that." I smiled, knowing that the scene involved some of the most swoon-inducing descriptions of a woman's body that I had ever read.