Shave Me a Tomato Cheek

‘This post is a part of #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette
I was excited to be coming back to India. Six months of being away from my boyfriend were sufficient enough for me to miss him terribly and I was eagerly counting my hours to land. Sitting on the window seat of the plane, eyes closed and a smile plastered on my face, I easily drifted into my fantasy land. There stood the most handsome guy on planet waiting for a plane to land. Dressed in a maroon turtle neck beneath an off white blazer, rugged jean and boots he stood waiting, resting his foot on the railing. He smelt the flowers he was holding and checked his watch for the fifteenth time in 5 minutes. Time had like stopped since the announcement of the arrival was made. But the clock did lethargically make an attempt and passengers began to finally pour out. His smile widened and his eyes pierced sharper with each step of the one getting out of the departure gate and just when he could hold his excitement no more, came a voice, “Excuse me mam, would you prefer Indian or, Continental.” I was woken up from my reverie to choose between the paratha and, the sandwich! “Continental” I thanked; smiled to the Sardar beside me seat and went back to shutting my eyes waiting to know what happened next but it remained a secret only to be woken again to wear my seat belt again.
I rushed to the customs; picked up a bottle of wine from the duty free and was at terminal number 6 as soon as I could be to find him waiting for me.  I jumped into his arms and ouch! Something scrapped my check. I pulled myself back. Gave him a good long look before we hugged and there it was again. That something that scrapped my check was now interfering with my high tied pony. “Ahh ahh ahh” I pulled my hair out of his face and grinned. Into the car we locked our lips and Damn! Something hurt my chin. As the driver pried on us through the rare view mirror, we hugged and kissed and snuggled. The more we hugged and the more we kissed, the more something on his face hurt me. It turned my check tomato red and chin sandpaper sharp. It was then did I realize his stupid stubble was the cause. A smooth stop and he smiled at me raunchily voiced “let’s carry our extravagant rendezvous in the privacy of our room” I tried hard to hide my pain and smile away what his stubble had caused. “Oh! Your cheek have turned so red, you so blush” he said. I bit my tongue hard to cry, “If only you were clean shaven, I would have been my normal white”. Interlocked lips, he grabbed me tight at my waist and pulled out from his pocket the keys while, I gently cusped his chin with one hand and dove the other into my hand bag. As he opened the door, I fished out from my bag a brand new Gillette and questioningly asked #WillYouShave before the moment is lost?