Jacqueline || BWWM

Chapter Ten

EDITED

Jackie's story

June 4th, 2005

The week it happened was like any other week. I'd went to my second to last week of school, done my homework on Friday, and played with my best friends,  Whitney, and Kingsley on Saturday.

Everything had seemed normal, even on the day it happened.

That day was Sunday. Mom and I were in the kitchen, baking cookies like we did every other Sunday. Dad and Nathanael, my little brother, were in the living noisily playing video games.

I remember Mom turning on the black radio that rested on the countertop to tune out the noise. She'd then grabbed a much smaller hand in hers, and twirled me around. We'd danced in our somewhat small kitchen as our cookies baked.

Ten minutes later and our cookies were done. Mom took them out of the oven as I placed a thin, paper-like sheet over the counter.

Mom was about to put the cookies on the paper thingy when Nathanael screamed. Like always, she instantly rushed to his side, but not before giving me the spatula.

I'd taken it in my free hand, and placed it along with the paper thingy on the counter before joining her in the living room. She was holding Nathanael, while Dad sat lazily on the couch.

I remember walking to him, and cuddling him as we all waited for Nathanael to calm down.

That was our only problem that hour. The danger that was to come was the farthest thing from all of our minds.

WC: 256
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I pick out a couple of dark red lipsticks from the store's counter. Walking to a large mirror, I pick up a cue tip from the little table and smear some of the crime red lipstick.

I stare at myself in the mirror, deciding instantly that the color is way too bright and that I'm not going to get it, but I still ask Finn, "What do you think?"

He looks up from his phone and scans me saying nothing as he takes a few steps closer to me. Lifting one hand from his phone, he touches my lips, before scrunching up his nose a little when his eyes meet his lipstick covered finger. "The color is ok, but I don't like how it stuck to my finger."

I have an arg to roll my eyes at his unreasonable words, but I hold it back. That action turns out to be a bad move, as the next words that roll so smoothly from my mouth aren't the nicest. 

"It wouldn't be stuck on your fingers if you hadn't put it on my lips."
I'm also not proud of the way my voice sounds: too sassy with a hint of brattiness.

Instead of being mad or whatever a guy feels when a girl is rude, a tiny smirk—but at the same time part tiny smile—covers Finn's naturally pink lips, and amusement dances in his green eyes. "That's not the problem, Cutie." He whispers, voice deep and husky.

Between the little space that our bodies, his cinnamon breath slightly fanning down on my face, and the thought that his only was a little bit more than a stranger, my mind goes into overdrive. Scary thing is that I'm not sure if that's completely a bad thing. "T-There's a problem?"