“Yeah, she’s a composition major at the university. Her name’s Yasmina. She’s this freshman cellist from Ames, Iowa.” Isaiah told me. “I think you might like her. Yasmina’s into some of the artsier stuff like you.”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m implying nothing. Come on, Galena. We both know how you’re into the finer aspects of dance and music.”
I just rolled my eyes before answering on my phone. “I’m not going to argue against that, but you make me sound like some pretentious prima donna. Anyway, I’ll see you later. I have to teach other classes including that one-on-one with Kalyani.”
“Fine then. Have a good day.” Click.
Normally, I was the one who hung up first.
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 