Stolen Moments

Chapter One

o n e

{ a k i n d o f k l u t z }

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lily rose valentine

Angle it a little over there... perfe-

"Rosie!!!"

And with that, all my concentration lost, my hand smacking my camera so it tilts the other way, biting my stuck out tongue in the process. You could say I'm a kind of klutz. Just a kind of.

"Rosie!!!"

There she goes again. We call her, our personal siren. Or also, if you prefer, an alarm clock. Yep, she's my mom.

"Yes momma, I heard you. What's up?" I calmly replied while looking down at her from my railing upstairs.

"Well if you could hear me, reply me then. There's someone at the door for you," I bit back a groan.

"Yes momma?" I called out to her when I was nearing the front door. She shoved me to our guest and walked away grumbling in rapid Latin after saying goodbye.

I walked backwards staring at the back of my mum curvy figure, amused. She is still the Latino my grandmama talked about. My mom is a beautiful American born Latino. Dark olive skin, shiny black curls, and curvy figure which compliments her petite 5"1 body. She is quite the beautiful Latino.

My dad is from London. The company he's working for, Dawson's Technology Corporation, D Tech for short, extended their company till America. He got transferred here when he was still considered a 'freshie' in his company.

My parents are probably the most goodlooking people you can find in their age. At the age of forty five, they still go around breaking hearts everywhere they went.

And then there's me.

Seventeen year old plain ole' me.

Red head. Thick eyebrows. Thick English accent. Non-existent body figure.

I don't even know where my genes come from.

The babies are probably swapped after given birth and I am probably in the wrong family. Oh joy.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realise I was backing up too far till I felt rough, large, palms holding on firmly on my elbow and a scultured chest against my back.

Large, rough palms. Firmly holding on to me. The way he's holding on, the way I felt very safe and secure, it is all too familiar.

A very sculptured chest, I could feel it even with the clothing layers, his body radiating warmth. The warmth felt all too familiar.

His large broad shoulders my head is unconsciously laying on feels like a missing puzzle piece. This cozyness is all too familiar.

I could feel my cheeks flaming up like a wildfire.

From embarassment, and anger.

How dare he.

I don't dare to lift my eyelids, knowing my view would be his perfect jawline, his sharp nose, soft brown eyes, perfectly shaped eyebrows (its natural, by the way), the bed head kind of messy hair that seems like only he could pull it off. And last but not least, his luscious soft pinkish red lips.

I felt myself getting hoisted up and I knew then I had to open my eyes before he realises. With great reluctance, I did.

And it was too late.