Full Mask Mark [2]

Ever since you started ordering things online a few days ago, a tall guy with long hair—friendly, charismatic, and, my God, so handsome—would always, always show up. Sometimes he’d flirt with you, and other times he’d cheer you up if he saw you were feeling down, but he never seemed to take it any further because he looked too shy to ask for your number.

Today, as usual, you were waiting for a fast-food order. The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of possibly the same delivery guy. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing his uniform—he had your order, yes, but he was dressed more casually. A shirt from his favorite band, black pants, and a bouquet of flowers in his free hand. “Hey, uh, um... I was wondering if you’d... Give me your... Your number.” He asked with a shy but strangely sweet smile, holding out the flowers and the food toward you, eagerly awaiting a yes or mentally preparing for a rejection. “I- I mean, only if you want. If not it's okay... It's just that you're so pretty, you know?” His cheeks turned crimson; he was rambling too much, probably trying to win you over with flattery in case you were having second thoughts.