Pure Belleza | ✔️

(5)

Amalia was shuffling books in and out of her locker. I called out to her and she peered over her shoulder. Moving through the students towards her, I stopped once for a teacher who told me to cover up the tattoo on my arm.

I had my sleeves rolled to the elbows because it was eight in the morning and the heat was too much to handle. I told her I would and continued on with no intention of doing what she asked.

When I reached Amalia, I leaned against the locker and smiled down at her. Her hair was down this morning, falling in lustrous waves that reached her lower back. The school blouse pulled tight around her chest, I could see the lace pattern of a white bra and I had to keep eyes up or I'd be fighting a boner.

"About yesterday," I began. "That was—"

"Max?" She said and closed her locker. "It's fine. I figured that out eventually. I walked off thinking you were kind of an asshole until it clicked."

I laughed and slipped my hands into my pockets. "I do want to see the sketches."

She didn't answer. She was staring at me with a slight pinch in her forehead and a smile on those full gorgeous lips.

"What?" I asked.

She lifted her hand and traced her finger along the hairline of my forehead. "You have like, almost blonde highlights through here. Max doesn't," she dropped her hand. "That's how I can tell you apart."

My stomach did something fucking weird. I laughed and tousled my hair. "Yeah there's that. It won't take long though. Despite the fact that we're identical, I got the better jaw and muscle definition."

"If you do say so yourself," she grinned.

I winked and leaned off the lockers. "So, do I get to see the sketches?"

"No."

"Huh?"

She laughed, clutching her books to her chest as the bell rang. "I was going to show you a few different ones. But then last night I came up with the perfect idea. It's not quite done though. I have art class before lunch so I should be able to finish it. I'll see you on the field?"

She began to walk backwards, waiting for me to answer her. I quickly nodded. "Yeah."

She turned around and disappeared down the corridor. I realized I'd been standing there staring after her like a brainless dipshit when Shane appeared beside me.

"Summer camp 2.0?" He said with a smug smile, watching after where Amalia had just been.

I swung out and punched him in the throat hard enough that he began spluttering and behaving like he was on his fucking death bed.

"Dumb fuck," I muttered as I walked down the hall.

"Fuck me," I snapped when a football smashed me straight in the side of the head. "Who the fuc—"

Coach gave me a sarcastic smile when I glanced over the field and found most of the team staring at me with amusement.

"I know you have an international star and coach at home, Lahey," he shouted, pointing at the drills on the field. "But quit staring at the softball girls and do some damn practice please."

"Girl," I corrected. "Singular not plural."

"Well at least there's no concern about your English grades," he shook his head with exasperation and turned around to proceed his conversation with Shane who had a nice bright welt on his throat.

I scoffed and pulled my t-shirt off, letting the sun hit me in it's full cloudless force. He made it sound simple. Like not watching Amalia bat the fuck out of those softballs was a breeze. But her form, her frame, her strength. It was too mesmerizing. I didn't want to miss a minute of it.