[ angel of mine ]
monica
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏—three—
sunshine
ONE FULL WEEK passed, which was also comparable to how many times Belle had been visiting in my house. She was already familiar with the ins and outs of my territory.
There was one time that my father had seen her around by chance, and a one-off occasion happened out of the blue − which was funny and surprising. He called her for breakfast while she was just checking Chabe out and fed him his dog food, wearing, of course, her infamous mask.
My father and I in one table over breakfast; that was something new − all because of Belle. I had been unenthusiastic about it but sat with him in the long run; it was out of respect − not for my father but for Belle. I remembered she was stealing glances at us. And without any words, it wasn't that hard to make out that she knew something was off between me and my father.
Saturday rolled in a pleasing fashion, at least, that was what I thought. That meant no school, no football training for the day, time for zonking out. But that could also mean Belle distracting my slumber. It wasn't even five in the fucking morning!
She was kicking my bed, causing it to shake and make this loud, pounding sounds. Non-stop, might I add. Ignoring her, I turned my head on the other side, trying to get some sleep. "Chase, come on," she wheedled, nudging my back, her words falling on deaf ears.
To say she was annoying would be an understatement − she could even give an aspirin a fucking headache. She was, say, destructive − I couldn't bring girls anymore because she had been coming in without warning like a mushroom that grew everywhere and anytime she felt like nobody's business. Allowing her to enter my turf was probably the worst decision I had ever made in my life.
"Chase."
No answer.
Then she did the unthinkable. Belle laid beside me. No, on top of me, and I let out a grunt as she bopped herself on top of my back, making the bed spring. I would say pester a drunk man but never the sleeping one. And so now pissed off, I gathered a good deal of strength to flinch, causing her to land on the floor. I heard a cracking noise, like a bone just snapped. But I was too knocked out to even say 'sorry, not sorry' though managed to shot her my nastiest glare, before slumping back and buried my face in my pillow.
"You son of a −" she griped. Next thing I knew, she was sprawling like a starfish beside me, making sure half of her body was toppled over mine, just for the hell of it. And very likely unhappy, Belle kicked my side, rolling me off my bed, my face close to hitting the floor if not for my fast reflexes.
"What the fuck, Belle? This is my bed. This is my room. This is my house. And lastly, who do you think you are ruining my sleep? Could you be any more aggravating?" I beefed. I didn't give a damn if I sounded like a baby in arms at this very moment.
Oh, great. Belle was grinning, far and wide, undoubtedly amused with this. She planted her stomach on my bed, crossed her arms and dipped her chin in it. And as she surveyed me, so did her eyes gleamed with rascality, the same time she sharpened her lips, something below me her goal.
I shouldn't be embarrassed, in all honesty; I had to be proud of my gift. But Belle was like a fruit at the utmost part of a tree − someone who wasn't easy to get, someone who highly deserved my respect, or lack thereof, thus giving her my sexual innuendos were out of the question here. So when I figured what she was looking at, that flaming sensation on my cheeks was instantaneous. I was just in my boxers, but my morning wood completely just took the cake. In a flash, I covered my full-tented front with both hands, standing a few feet off randomly.
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Short Story(Watty Awards 2016) A football player struggles to uphold his unspeakable reputation when he chances upon a girl who reminds him of sunshine and flowers.