[High school romance]
Bad girl x good boy
"Don't be shy, Boris. If you want me to do something, to do something to you, to touch you the certain way or something else, you should just ask and I'm gladly going to do it. But don't be shy and embarrass...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Here?"
I point to the third bench, hoping that Luna will say yes, so we can sit, and she can finally wat this colorful candy that I'm holding for her since her both hands are now in pain. She's been eyeing it his whole time, but refused to try it before we sit. I swear I saw her mouth-watering.
"Noup", she shakes her head for the third time, and I sigh. "There are too many people here, and I want to go somewhere where it's less crowded."
"Okay, and where is that?" I've never been walking through this park, I would just go straight to the tennis court and after it back home.
"Hmmm", she puts her finger under her chin, thinking. "There!" I turn to look in the direction her little finger is pointing at.
The last time I did that, I was met with the cotton candy man. But now I see no one on the green blanket called grass decorated with a couple of trees, though their leaves are a darker shade of green than the grass under them.
"C'mon!"
She pulls my hand with her left one that I thank God managed to fix because I was so scared that bitch Katy broke it, too.
What is up with me?
Calling girls bitches, kids devils, cursing and yelling at them, telling their mothers to educate them better? It's all Luna's supremacy.
It's all this girl's fault who is pulling me and dragging me to sit on the neatly cut grass where it's less crowded because people, unfortunately, don't seem to be able to see the beauty the scar on her right side of the face is ruining.
She's giggling while turning to me, and I watch her now blonde locks that are flying to her face, while slow, but the present wind is playing with it, and the sun's rays are making it even brighter, completely erasing the real nature hair color.
I want to tell her how much I like her, how happy I am that she is, too. Is she thought? I think she is. She's never smiled this much since I met her. She was either frowning, sobbing, or running away.
But now, now she's pulling me to run with her. We are running together, and I wonder for how long before she decides to let go of my hand, and vanishes, leaving me to go over our talk over and over again, so I can realize what I have said wrongly, what was the thing that upset her and made her leave.
"God, I got tired!", she groans, letting go of my hand, and falling on the grass.
"Easy, easy."
I can't help but think how her hand felt good in mine, how small it was for my big palm, yet it seemed as if they were meant to be in one another.
Why do I act like some girl from a romantic novel?
"I'm okay, don't worry, Boris", she beams at me, and I hesitate whether to sit on the grass on not. But when she says my name, when those small lips that I desperately need to feel on mine, pronounce it, as if they had been made to say it all over again, I squat down.
