The Boy in Denim ✓

three

She sat on the white plush chair, waiting for the people to arrive. It was her Grandmother's funeral, no longer was she going back to the funeral home anytime soon. This was the last day. The end of it all. In an hour, she'd be seeing her Grandmother's pale corpse no more.

"Dear, could you please move a little bit so we could sit?"

She was so deep in her reverie that she had not noticed a 40 something year old woman standing beside her. Her eyes shot up in surprise as she slid further into the seat.

"Sure, sure! I apologize."

She watched as the woman wearing a white plain dress sit down. From her point of view, she didn't see what she meant by so we could sit. But when the woman sat down, she saw the guy she's been thinking about all day and all night.

Denim jacket guy.

He wore a white tee with a pair of shorts, his shoes were a white pair of Jordan's, and he once again wore a denim jacket.

The brunette had wondered how he could go to a funeral looking so gorgeous. Wasn't it a sin?

Here eyes met his, and the same thing that happened yesterday occured. Her heartbeat quickened by three paces. She feared that if she even heard his voice it'd beat out of her chest.

"Thank you, dear." The woman beside her spoke, bringing her out of her reverie. She lost eye contact with the guy as he took a seat beside the woman.

Her breathing almost came to a halt when her mind had processed that the denim jacket guy she had been crushing on for two days was just a person apart.

She looked straight ahead and kept her proper posture. She closed her eyes shut and prayed to the Lord Almighty to make her nerves go away.

She wasn't nervous because she would no longer be seeing her grandmother from then on, even if it was just a corpse. She was nervous because she didn't want to make a complete fool of herself in front of the guy she likes.

She felt as though she was commiting a sin. She was in her Grandmother's funeral, yet she was crushing on a guy attending it? How rude of her- or at least that's what she thinks.

"Are you Lousie's granddaughter?" She heard a feminine voice ask.

She turned her head to the woman beside her a gave a small smile.

"Yes, I am, Miss."

The woman returned the smile and shook her head, "Oh dear, call me Lia. I used to be your family's maid."

She was her family's maid?

She now knows who the woman is, but not the guy seated beside her.

"Speaking of which, have you seen Gretta?"

Gretta? Her mother Gretta?

"Yes, actually. She's inside the kitchen."

The funeral home had a kitchen at the very back. It was where the snacks were kept before being distributed to the visitors.

Her mom did not want to be there. The grief she felt was too much. But it was her mother's funeral. She had no choice but to be there.

Lia's eyes lit up, "Alright, thank you, dear."

With that, the woman picked up her black purse and made her way to the kitchen. Doing what she assumed was talking to her mother, Gretta.

The atmosphere inside the funeral home was sort of tense with a mix of sadness.

But the air between the blonde guy and her was just awkward.

She got up, preparing herself to leave, for she could not stand being suffocated in such an atmosphere.

But as she turned to do so, a large warm hand tugged on her arm gently.

"Don't leave again."