𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞

1. Aroma Of Home

Hums resonated from the inside of my mouth, distracting myself as I sorted through piles of clothing that I suddenly found no desire to wear. Flinging pieces of clothing everywhere as an indecisive face etched my face.

Blazer? No. Baggy Jeans? No. Skirt? No.

"Cool weather." I mutter, reminding myself. My eyes narrow as I lift the black bell bottoms pants, my lips pulling down into a contemplating look, before humming in agreement with myself.

I pulled the pants over my bare legs, only a pair of thin underwear covering me. The ends of the pants swept the floor, making my decision to wear black high chunky heeled boots. For a top, I pulled on a waist length black cardigan, buttoning it up at the front, the material clinging to my body. I decided to stick a strapless push up bra to my chest a while ago.

Twisting my body in the mirror, I gnawed at the insides of my cheeks, my figure was quite matured. I was always on the petite side, the only unproportionate parts of my body was my large bust that can sometimes make my outfits funky and my hips were extra wide, pushing out further than aligning with my shoulders.

I had a love-hate relationship with a body that was desirable to the male gaze, but it brought much unwanted attention, by much, I mean all.

Steering clear of falling into male attention had gotten easy, but a few months back, a pit started settling in my belly: loneliness. It's not like love will always work out the first go around, but I feel as though testing the waters will help ease my recent desire for a partner. So, I decided to be spontaneous and go out on a date with a boy from school.

Micheal Adams was a recurring topic at school, a topic that always got categorized "hot." He wasn't the most popular kid, but he was well known. Football captain, smile to die for, polite gentleman overall. I had politely greeted him a few times in the past couple of years, but he unintentionally landed at the perfect window to ask me out a week ago.

We were meeting at a Càfe downtown, the cutest place that doubled as a yogurt parlor: Sweet Dreams. I choose to believe it's named as said because of the massive sugar coma and crash you'll experience after eating your heart out.

Huffing, I nodded at myself in the mirror, set on my outfit. Grabbing my phone, I had 20 minutes to be right on time, which to me was 5 minutes early. Swiping my mini black bag from the chair tucked into my desk, I trekked down the spiral stairs of my loft. Said loft was on the bottom floor of apartments, making it easy for me to get out the door and walk to my car less than 50 feet away.

The complex was gated, a safe feel, even in a good town like Pyro Falls.

My car was a creamy gray Audi TT RS, hustled from an old coworker of mine who didn't have room for it anymore. The cosmos had been on my side that day as I took the shift where he shouted if I wanted the car for 10 grand. I obviously didn't have so much money, but I worked out a deal with him to make payments. It took 3 months and a hell of a lot of effort, but I have the car now.

I was saving up for a car in the first place, tired of having to walk from workplace to school, then home, or the grocery store. I was lucky.

Dropping my body into the seat, I turned on the car, the engine making a rumble. I waited for the car to warm up as I connected my phone to the bluetooth and put the seat warmers on a low setting. Throwing down my visor, I ran my fingers through my hair, soft curls as the result of having showered my hair this morning.

"Quit stalling..." I mumbled as I sighed, throwing the visor up, and exiting from my parking spot as the song "Japanese Denim" played softly through the speakers. I subconsciously tapped along the rhythm of the song on my thigh as I drove with my left hand holding the side of the steering wheel, my elbow resting on the door.