Sam's P.O.V.
As we walked back to my house an awkward silence spread over us. Thank goodness she broke the silence,
"What's your favorite color?"
"Blue, Your's?"
"Periwinkle"
"What even is that?"
"It's like a super light lavender with a bit of blue in it."
"Okay." It was a long walk and we talked for thirty minutes just discussing little things, Mary liked art, swimming and theatre, she liked spicy food and put Siracha on everything. She didn't like being short and having frizzy hair. I told her about my writing and how I play soccer. I told her how I'm always self conscious about being pale.
"It suits you, it makes your freckles look nice."
"Thanks, and I like your frizzy hair."
"Wow. Thanks, so what do your parents do?"
"My Dad is a lawyer. We don't talk much."
"Your mom?"
"She died two years ago. Cancer." I was expecting some sort of 'I'm so sorry', but It never happened. I stopped walking and she did too, I was frustrated. I didn't understand.
"That's it?! No "I'm sorry for your loss"?" She sighed,
"I would tell you I understand, but I don't. Or that it gets better, when I don't know. All I can do is be here, and do exactly what I think I would need if I was you. That's all I can offer."
And then she did something I never expected, something i hadn't had for a long time.
She wrapped her short arms around my torso and hugged me.
And after a while,
I hugged back.
And then we walked the rest of the way.
In conferable silence.
YOU ARE READING
One. Two. Three.
Teen FictionMary is ignorant from her gorgeous looks and brave manner. She is hated She was sure she had done something wrong along the way. She was wrong. It was her soft milk chocolate waves, tanned completion and amber-hazel eyes. They were striking and fo...
