Youth is wonderful.

On Saturday afternoon, after a nap, I felt refreshed. I put on light makeup, changed clothes, and planned to catch a movie, then
grab a bagel and a coffee at Starbucks.
Stepping out of my rented apartment, I strolled past the first nearby bus stop, only to realize my wallet was empty—time
to withdraw some cash.
Entering the nearby university campus through a side door, I saw a group of boys on the basketball court by the corridor. Wearing tank tops and shorts,
the tall one behind his underwear tossed a volleyball high into the air, flicked his right hand, and thudded the ball across
the net.
That strike captivated the heart of this thirty-year-old woman who had inadvertently wandered into her alma mater that afternoon. Completely seduced by the sweat
-drenched stopped, staring blankly at the boys
' performance.
They weren't particularly handsome, but paired with youthful arrogance, short hair, and broad backs,
they were truly the sexiest men in the world. No, boys.
If I could straddle those strong thighs, I would cup his face in my hands and lick the sweat from his
brow …
The boys, having somehow noticed the girl drooling under the shade of the tree, burst into unrestrained laughter. My sense of
shame was instantly awakened, my cheeks flushed, and I rushed into the convenience store in the basement next to the basketball court.
I patted my temples, wondering what had gotten into me, acting like a sixteen-year-old girl,
or perhaps channeling Samantha Jones? I should hurry up and finish my withdrawal and go out through the other side door
.
Pulling my small wallet, which I had squeezed into the pocket of my well-fitting white shorts, I frantically tried to feed
one my cards into the machine. Huh, why won't it go in?
A tanned, sweaty hand reached out somewhat rudely. "Miss, you put it in the wrong way."
What? Am I brain-dead? I watched as the card he'd flipped over was smoothly swallowed by the machine. My already flushed
face burned even hotter. I turned to thank the owner of the card, but the softness on my chest bumped into his
hand as he was about to pull away.
I looked up and met the boy's face. It was that tall guy. He smiled and said, "Oops, sorry."
The big boy's low voice!
My heart skipped a beat. I mumbled incoherent words like "It's okay" and "Thank you," unconsciously
typing in the PIN and taking out three thousand-dollar bills.
Even though his presence was no longer behind me, I still didn't dare turn around. I focused my gaze on
the shelf , grabbed a magazine, and headed to the cashier.
Come to think of it, I'm capable at work and have had a few deep relationships. A thirty-year-old woman,
even if it's my first time fantasizing about a sexy young man in the street, really shouldn't be
acting . "Calm down," I muttered to myself at the cashier.
Then the boy rushed up behind me, grabbing a can of Coke and a tattered 500-yuan bill, and casually
placed them on my Vogue magazine.
"A student, a student!" he said.
The female clerk, wearing black-rimmed glasses, looked at him suspiciously.
"Oh, please, I can't bring my student ID to play basketball. Look!" He rolled up the pockets on both sides of his sweatpants
, revealing his well-built thighs.
Was this guy a scoundrel? But it seemed the clerk was buying it.
She said coldly, "Oh, magazines together?"
He said with a swagger, "Of course, my girlfriend's is mine too." Then he put his hand on my
shoulder, leaving me speechless.

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Youth is wonderful.

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