"These butterflies in my stomach have a funny way of making me want to throw up every time I see you. In a good way, of course."
<<<>>>
The boys watched Aimée disappear into the house before facing each other.
“You’re not allowed to go out with her again.”
“Chris, chill.”
“Never be alone with her.”
“Chris, it wasn’t like that.”
“Actually, don’t even look at Aimée anymore.”
“Chris!” Dawson exclaimed, biting back his laugh. “It’s cool, alright? I don’t like Aimée that way.”
“So in what way do you like her?” Chris pressed, his eyes narrowing accusingly.
“Definitely not the way you’re thinking,” Dawson said, chuckling. “But seriously man, she’s great. Something special.”
Chris sighed, offering his friend a tired smile; really, it was more of a grimace. “I know.”
“You’re lucky I’m your best friend,” Dawson warned. “If I weren’t, I’d snatch that prize up in an instant.”
“I think what Dawson is trying to imply,” Mac said mildly, his eyebrows raised, “is that you should really get a move on if you want to get anywhere.”
Christophe held his hands up in defeat. “Alright geniuses, what do you propose we do?”
“Oh, it’s a ‘we’ effort, now?” Jett joked, chuckling. He winked at his hopeless friend. “Don’t worry, Christy. We got you covered.”
<<<>>>
As Aimée combed her mascara brush through her thick lashes, she thought back to the night before.
Christophe came after Aimée once the boys left. Aimée found him seated on his huge bed—actually their bed since Christophe insisted they share his mattress since Aimée’s was soaked to the point of no return—waiting for her.
Once he apologized profusely and she finally accepted after much struggle, Christophe promised he was going to make it up to her the next day.
Aimée looked down at her attire nervously. Christophe said to dress up more than usual and she had nothing but the dress Dawson found. The garment was certainly beautiful all on its own; made of a thick black fabric, it had a neckline of a halter design with straps both consisting of a large cutout, so instead of two straps it looked like there were four very thin ones. The material didn’t cling to every inch of flesh it could find, but rather rested snugly against the curve of Aimée’s hips, leaving little room for the cold to seep between. With bare shoulders and the front cut of the wrap skirt, this was the most skin Aimée had yet to show in an outfit.
Aimée turned her attention to the mirror to add the finishing touches to her appearance. With a more daring choice of clothing, she decided to keep her makeup light; shimmery eye shadow, thick eyelashes, and a dash of blush and eyeliner. Only her lips were completely bare, soft and pink from her lip balm.
Letting her hair fall naturally into its curly pattern, she shook the loose waves with her fingers, not even bothering to comb it. Sighing, she slipped into the simple, strappy black heels Jenica leant her for the occasion. Jen was significantly more devastated than her husband upon finding out that they had to leave during Aimée’s visit for a work convention in the next city over. The couple had left that morning with strict instructions for their son to not burn the house down, thoroughly embarrassing Christophe to the point of redness. Aimée saw her reflection smile at the idea of the tiny family. Taking one final glance at her lone figure, she turned and made her way quietly down the stairs.
YOU ARE READING
Right At Your Door
Short Story"Nothing ever changes here." To Christophe, this is a curse. To Aimée, this is an invitation. All she knows is change. Tired of the life of travel, Aimée decides to make one final move. She would leave Paris. She would leave Europe. She would meet C...
