I just read the ending of this short story and it was absolute beauty. I couldn’t stop smiling in my shower, and the happy ending vibes somehow brought me to my laptop.
Must finish this book! For Clya! (please help me with a better ship name)
Not E D I T E D.
Chapter 25: So you think you can waltz?
“Stop that!” I sputtered.
A goofy smile stretched across his lips. “Stop what?”
“Smiling!”
He laughed, swinging his legs back and forth. “Why? I thought you liked it when I smiled?”
My brows furrowed. “When did I ever tell you that?”
His smile widened. “You didn’t. It’s the fact that your cheeks turn into a light pink, and you swallow hard, looking away while saying a snarky remark.” I frowned. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I have a killer sexy as hell smile that’s contagious to all the ladies.”
Rolling my eyes, I wondered for a moment if I actually looked like that whenever he smiled. Suddenly heat rushed up my face at how realistic that sounded.
“Are you embarrassed?” Clint said, astonished.
“No!” I quickly answered, too fast for my liking. “Of course not! I’m never embarrassed! I’m immune to embarrassment!”
He grew a slow, heart fluttering grin again. A surge of warmth tingled up my neck, and I swallowed hard, looking away. “If you keep smiling like that, your lips are gonna to stay like that forever,” I snarled.
“That’s okay. I’d dedicate my entire life to making you feel embarrassed in front of me. It’s cute.”
My heart lurched forward, and I nearly fell out of the tree. Grasping for an opportunity to hide my attack, I crossed my arms and frowned.
“So you get hard at the sight of mustard on my face, but you only find it ‘cute’ when I’m supposedly ‘embarrassed’? What the hell happened to the simple, firm Clint? Did you run him over with a truck, stabbed him repeatedly, and threw him over a bridge to get eaten by sharks? Or did you just lock him up in your closet?”
“Has your mind always been this morbid?” he grimaced, nudging my arm.
“Quit changing the subject, meathead,” I shot, challenging him with an arched brow.
He leaned closer as if he were telling a secret, and spoke in a mere whisper. “Maybe they were secretly the same person all along, and one of them was just too afraid to come out.”
That made sense. I mean, his dad was an outgoing motorcycle rider who let his long hair down (literally) and enjoyed getting down and dirty. Perhaps he was more like his mom. His mom. I don’t think he ever mentioned her.
YOU ARE READING
Living Short in Bel Air (Completed 2013)
SpiritualAs an old dead guy once said, "And though she be but little, she is fierce." A self motivating journey dedicated to the short girls, tomboys, weirdos, and outcasts, where a lonely, girl in Bel Air shows the society that big things come in small pack...
