Itty Bitty Stories

Rows of Pink Cookies

I think this is okay for a Valentine's Day oneshot. It's not the best, but it's cute. I guess. I dunno, Valentine's Day depresses me.

Rows of Pink Cookies

Her hair is up in a ponytail. Her hair isn’t just one solid color. It’s naturally dirty brown with waves added to it. I don’t understand, never will, never have, how the hell she tames it everyday. One time I walked in on her when she was trying to put it in a bun. It was frizzed out as much as humanly possible.

Her glasses are propped up on her nose. They’re black rimmed with a light scratch in the right frame. It’s in the corner, barely noticeable, but I notice it everyday. I probably know it’s there because I caused it. I shoved her off a swing last year and then her glasses fell off.

Her dog, Bax, is curled up next to her, fast asleep. He’s a medium sized dog, a mutt. He’s really furry and pretty much has the same color hair she does. It changes throughout his coat. The dog adores me, and I know she hates it when he comes running over to me like I’m his long lost best friend.

“Hey.”

It doesn’t even take her a full second. Her magazine, National Geographic, is down in an instant, her brown eyebrows knitting together. Her hazel eyes narrow as they lock in on me. Her dog’s head pops up, wagging his tail slowly as he sees me approaching.

“Jason,” She spits, carefully watching my every move. One of her hands is tightly curled around the magazine, while the other one pets her dog absentmindedly.

I smile goofily at her hiss. “Hi Clare. What’chya reading?”

For another minute, she doesn’t take her eyes off me. When she finally decides I’m not here to hurt her in any way, her magazine comes back up to her face. “Article on polar bears.”

If it interests her, it interests me. “Fun,” I say lousily, watching her happy dog.

He finally jumps off the seat to come and greet me. I crouch down and pet him, grinning. “Hey, Bax! Wanna get away from your animal-abusing owner?”

She mutters out a curse word at me, but I don’t hear it. I just keep grinning. We both know she would never even hurt a fly, let alone a dog. She adores animals. Each and every kind. I just love screwing around with her. That’s pretty much what I live for each day.

“Bax, c’mere,” She snips. He prances over to the seat again, jumping up to lick her face. She starts laughing as he doesn’t pull away.

“That dog gets more kisses than I do,” I say, not even thinking about it. When it hits me, I momentarily freeze in my crouching position, breath being held.

“Yeah, well, he’s closer to me than you ever will be,” She retorts. It makes me slowly stand upright again and breath normally. I ignore the pain in my heart that she caused by saying those words. She doesn’t get it, she never will.

I’ve known Clara since we started high school. We’re seniors now, but we go way back. She never liked me. She was the quiet one you’d see in class somewhere, just doodling in her notebook, looking so carefree. I guess that’s why I was drawn to her like a magnet.