Sweetheart

12

Lizzie
August 2020

School starts in two days, and I'm panicking.

How are people going to treat me? Will Nate and his friends have lunch with me? And who is going to be in my classes? A multitude of questions fills my already imploding head. And it's only eight in the morning.

Overwhelmed by the flood of thoughts, I decide to do something I haven't done in quite some time. Work out. It usually starts as an annoying task, but once I run the first few feet, it gets easier and more fun.

I find an old black set of biker shorts and a sports bra and wear it. All right. It's all a bit tight — especially the shorts — but they'll do. At least until I can go buy a new one.

As I tie my hair in a ponytail, I descend the stairs, almost stumbling over Milo. "Why would you sleep on the freaking stairs, Milo," I mutter, shaking my head and crouching down to give him a quick scratch behind his ears. He meows pleased, making me smile. "Fat cutie pie."

Walking towards the kitchen, I hear some noises coming from there. Grace must be awake already. I doubt Nate is up this early. Aaron should be out running. Yeah, it's totally Grace.

I step inside but hear something brushing my shin. I turn around on my feet. Milo. I lower my upper body without bending my legs, using this movement to stretch a little, and pet him. "Here again, little boy?" I say.

I hear shuffling behind my back.

*

Aaron
August 2020

"Here again, little boy?" a voice behind me says. What the fuck did she call me?

I spin around, the mug of coffee still against my lips, and immediately put a scowl on my face, ready to meet her eyes.

Instead, I find her ass right in front of me, perfectly round and full and ready to be fucking slapped. I choke on my coffee and spit the liquid, feeling it all over the lower half of my face.

Still coughing — and possibly dying — I reach for a paper towel to clean my face with. I bet I have my lungs drenched in coffee now.

"Aaron? I thought you had already gone out," Lizzie says, straightening her back and turning to face me. "Oh, God, are you okay?" she asks startled, taking a step toward me before I stop her with my hoarse voice.

"What the fuck is that?!" I snap, shocked, as I point to her figure, barely covered in tight fabric that makes her curves stand out more than any other clothing item.

Lizzie winces and looks down at herself. "What? It's just a set," she replies, shrugging.

I pull my brows together. "I've seen strippers wear more."

"You've seen strippers?"

I wave it off. "Not the point. Lizzie, you can't go out with that."

She scoffs, taking an apple. "And who are you? My dad?" She sets the apple down and exchanges it with a banana. Oh, fuck me.

"You barely fit in that thing. And I don't mean it as an insult, but seriously, I can see everything," I point out, looking away when she starts playing with the tip of the fruit with her thumb, thinking. Jesus Christ. I clear my throat.