The next time I saw him was a year from then.
"Gracie, come along now please!" Said my ballet teacher, Miss Winslet.
But I was too busy looking at a group of boys playing football across the street, to hear.
Their impish grins and tatty uniforms amused me, as they passed the ball back and forth between them.
There was one boy, slightly faster and more agile than the rest. His honey coloured hair shone in the evening sun, and the smirk on his face was clear as he ran past his friends.
"Gracie! Hurry up please." Miss Winslet repeated once more.
But my silk clad feet remained planted where they were.
I watched the boy for a moment longer, unsure why his face had seemed so familiar.
That was until he caught my gaze and smiled at me with an impish grin.
And I remembered those green eyes, as my cheeks tinged pink.
YOU ARE READING
Heart Like A Hurricane
Исторические романыFrom the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn't stay away.
