The Small Blonde Girl

Chapter 2: The Morning After

He awoke to find the beauty of his dreams gone in his reality. Becoming increasingly susceptible to worry, he looked around to realize not all of it had been a dream, he was in her room. How he knew that you may ask?

He saw the Game of Thrones poster reading out: 'Hear me Rawr' (Yes I know I spelt it wrong) plastered on the wall in all its glory.

He took it all in. The beautiful posters, the natural scent, and the feeling. Oh God the feeling! Simply being within the confined space that was this daring beauty's lair. Left him wondering what the world outside the four walls was like.

He approached her desk. Just looking around before noticing a book. A hard-copy book. As his crush put it: 'the best piece of literature to come out of America.' Or in terms for the simple: 'A sick book fam.'

The legendary book was simply entitled:

'The Great Gatsby'.

...He ought to prepare his anus.

He looked back to the small girl. Just now realizing the way the sun caught her face. Her hair. Her every being. She was positively glowing. Her light cluster of freckles were blending in with her skin, yet not so much that they did not complement her features. Her nose was small, small like the rest of her; minuscule and adorable. Just adding to the already visible adorable meter in the top right corner of the boundaries of his vision. Then again. It was full from the start (of course it was. I'll have you screaming bloody murder if you deny it).

There were her cheeks.

She was a cheeky girl (baddum tsh)

Then there was her smile. She had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.

They were followed by her lips. Her gob-smacking lips. Diabolical. It was almost devastating what it did to his mind. A crisis from what it did to his now reddening cheeks. A downright crime to what it did to his...

Let's continue onwards!

He felt a sudden urge to feel his own upon them. As though he were kissing the ass of God upon an order.

As such, closer he leaned, until a loud, dull thumping was blocking out all senses for him and his heart was in his throat. Allowing him little to know breath at all. Of course, our hero won't get the lady he loves just like that, her Dog, Murphy, bounded in. He shot up like he'd just been electrocuted and looked all round wildly until his eyes fell upon that dog, seeming oblivious to the ongoing of the room and just tilting his head as if to say 'well, what you gonna do about it?'.

He cursed that wondrous and handsome dog in his mind but outwardly smiled at it. Ushering it over slightly with a hand. He came. Then saw his master, his career, his mother laying on the ground, Murphy came forth and instantly extended his tongue and began lapping at her cheeks. Giving them a blanket of translucent saliva.

The small blonde girl awoke with a start, seemingly unsure of what was going on until she was met with a pair of beautiful, rather curious brown orbs and a song of excited whimpering. Receiving from her woowoo what we call: 'Puppy Love'.

Followed by a wet nose nuzzling her cheek.

She let out a shrill and tired yell but began to let out sighs of laughter.

"My wee little man...!" She spoke, raising her voice a bit as his nose tickled her neck as he clambered on top of her. Lapping at whatever invisible substance was on her cheek, his saliva leaving behind evidence of what could be called "liquid love".