You Again

Living Room Meetup

Hi! So this is the second update in one night. (It's night for me.) I'm only doing this so that I can get the first two out of the way so that you understand what's going on. From then on I'll be updating on a regular-ish schedule. Does every 2-4 days sound good? I'll shut up now. Enjoy! xoxo

"What time do they get here?" I ask as I shut the door, shoving off my boots.

I hear my mom laugh from the living room, accompanied by other voices. I hear her say softly. "That must be her."

My mom comes into the room, her face a bit flustered from laughing she must've done earlier. "They're already here," she says, grinning.

Oh. Crap. I've been dreading meeting him all day, and it's finally here.

I step into the living room. which has been decorated for the Christmas season, approaching soon, and I first see Mr. Smith, his jet black hair highlighted by a few grays. His dark green eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles at me. "Stella!" He stands up and embraces me.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Smith," I greet.

"Call me Uncle Daniel, or Uncle Danny, like you used to! Remember?" He now carries a British Accent.

I give him half a smile, "Barely," I reply, and the room erupts in laughter. There's a clear laugh, ringing high, and it's Mrs. Smith- Aunt Donna. Her light blonde hair is swept up in a pony tail, and her full lips colored a light pink, opened in a laugh.

"Look at you," she says, rubbing my arm. "You've gotten so pretty."

"Thanks," I breathe, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. She brushes a bit of my hair behind my ear and blinks a couple times, realizing something.

"Your hair used to be darker," she says, remembering.

"Yeah," I reply, touching it. "I bleached it to this color, liked it, and everyone else did too."

"Well, I think it looks great," a deep, British Accented voice comments.

Every. Nerve. Stands. On. End.

I turn, and face him.

My heart pounds, and drops, and flutters, and breaks at the same time. 

He's fucking gorgeous.

Half of his mouth is turned up in a smile, and his right eye crinkles just a bit. His hair is the same black and his eyes the same deep green as his father's. His lips are as full as his mothers. His jawline is well defined, and those eyelashes of his entrance me. He's wearing a long sleeve V-neck. It's fitted, and I can see he's clearly stayed fit.

The sleeves of his shirt are pulled up a bit, and then I see it. The red ribbon, a velvet red, tied upon his wrist. It's been worn down, threadbare, and is extremely frayed. I still recognize it. Of course I do. I ruined a perfectly good plait to give that away.

"You kept it," I whispered.

"I kept it." he replied, his voice just as quiet. He sees the ring. "You fit it"

"Today is Someday." I reply.

All the worry that coursed through me the whole day was forgotten as Alexander Smith, the boy who smelled like cologne and the cookies my mom baked wrapped me in his arms. He's almost a good eight inches taller than me, maybe even ten. I stand at around five foot four, and he's at six feet, maybe six foot two. I'm at his chest while we embrace.

His heart is racing. So is mine.

God this feels so good.

I'm reunited with my best friend.