This Should Make A Terrible Story

Not A Bad Person

"You sure?" I asked, for like the fifth time.

"Now, you're just digging for compliments." She said.

"No, I just never heard anyone say that to me before. I have flaws."

"And I don't?"

"Well, I don't see any." I replied.

And we were there, in the pool, middle of the warm summer day, standing still.

"Dude. First, I have small sized breasts. My hair's black, not blonde. My mouth forms a fucking trapezoid in its normal shape. I have brown eyes, not blue--"

I decided to butt in there.

"Hey, my eyes are brown as well,"

"Shush!" You could tell she was mad. Adorably mad. "And when it comes to personality, first, I don't put makeup on. Next, I read Comic Books. I make puns. I listen to whatever plays on my phone. I don't have a specific taste. I sometimes decide to make the first move. For god's sake, I pushed you into this pool and called ypu my submissive slave just minutes ago, Grayson!! None of the guys date me, none of the girls befriend me. I'm alone in this world."

"WELL, TAKE A GUESS, JESSICA, SO AM I!!!" I didn't notice how my voice was already booming.

"Kay. You think you have flaws? First. I don't give a damn about breast size, that's not what guys are after." I said.

"Well, guys these days are really just after--"

"What? Sex? Give me a fucking break. I'm merely looking for a friend to talk to. A REAL FRIEND. Cause most people in this world just want to use and manipulate you. I don't care if you have blonde hair or round lips, or if you act like a dominant sex slave master."

"Oh, please--"

"No, let me talk, Because, if we're all being honest here, I like Brunettes better. Your dark hair emphasizes the beauty in your face that blondes never could. And your trapezoid lips just gets me everytime I look at them. I feel this weird sensation in my spine everytime I look at that Sexy Trapezoid."

"This trapezoid? Sexy?"

"And what male person on God's Earth in his right mind would neglect a woman who reads comics? Dude, you guys are a rare find. You think that's a flaw?? Spare me. And with the puns, God, you're the whole package, where have you been all my life?" I said.

"..."

"So, you think you have flaws? Cause first, I don't have a Summer Beach Bodybuilder Body. I have this scrawny, bony, lousy excuse for a soul vessel. I'm weak. You got to toss me to the pool no problem. That's quite a low blow to the man pride, right there. I don't have that Andrew Garfield cuteness all the girls are looking for. I'm unfunny. Whenever I make a joke, somebody scowls at me like I'm a bad person. So I insulted a few people. That makes me a bad person?"

"Okay, stop!!" She said.

"No, Jess. You stop. You probably don't want me as your friend anyway. Cause maybe they're right. Maybe I AM A BAD PERSON. I'm just tricking myself into thinking I'm a good one."

"I SAID STOP!!" She yelled.

"..." I suddenly forgot how to speak, which was weird, considering I usually mumble.

"Look, they tell me I'm a bad person too."

"What? You wouldn't befriend the weirdo if you were a bad person." I told her.

"And you aren't a bad person if you aren't a perfect friend to everyone." She replied.

"Thanks, Jess." I said. "But I'm still flawed."

"So am I, Bucky." She replied, "But maybe that's why--"

"I think you're perfect."

"Because you're perfectly flawed as I am--"

"To the point where--"

"I can no longer see Flaws,"

"I could only see what makes you PERFECT." We said this last line together.

That was freaky.

We just formed a sentence without pausing, without skipping a beat.

It's like the phrase was already in both our minds.

"God, I want to kiss your trapezoid. I mean, it's like a piece of art, it's a masterpiece, like Picasso on Van Gogh. Did I tell you I have a thing for art? Van Gogh reminds me of space. Starry Night. God, I wanna fly. To space or to anywhere, even just in the atmosphere. But I was already flying when I saw your face this morn--"

I was stopped by a wet finger on my mouth.

I mean, a delicate finger from underwater.

Nope, just, not gonna describe it, feels awkward.

I'm still mumbling in my head when she already stopped me physically.

I stopped dead total when she spoke.

Three words.

"Kiss me, Bucky."