by Coreopsis
Just look at this picture.
Now, ignore the jokers on either side. They are insignificant against the awesome power of Kevin's Regular Guy Masculinity.
Notice the work boots, covered in dust the color of mortar and sawdust. Notice the jeans, still new but spotted with hard earned dirt. And then there's the shirt, half untucked, sleeves rolled up just a little 'cause it's a hot day and every little bit helps. And you can't help but notice the way it's unbuttoned from nearly the waist up, revealing a sliver of smooth hard chest and the long tan column of his throat. He's not a pop star pretty boy ('cause he ain't pretty and he knows it, wouldn't want to be). He's a man. A guy who comes into the store where you work to buy Gatorade and smokes on his break, and he's always quietly polite, never flirtatious on his own but... if you flirt first, he'll smile kinda crooked and the corners of his eyes will crinkle just a little. And he'll seem friendly for a moment, just long enough for you to get your hopes up that this time he'll say something...something more than "a pack of Marlboros, please", "ten on pump two" and "thanks".
But he doesn't.
And when he walks out the door, he never looks back.
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