chapter nine

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chapter nine

IF I GOT A DOLLAR EVERY TIME MY stomach erupted into a fit of butterflies around May Parker, I'd be a millionaire. It felt so good and nice to feel that way. I haven't felt something like that happen to me in ages.

I lightly shook my thoughts away as I listened to May talk.

"-and then Mrs Farnsworth started screaming at me and I didn't know what to do, so I started mowing her lawn the next week and then she screamed even more..."

We were both currently on our fifth cup of lemonade slash vodka and I was starting to feel it. May, however, became absolutely wild after her third cup.

"...anyway, so I just got so mad at that old lady that I baked forty eight cookies in one day." She giggled and took another sip of her drink.

"You baked cookies because you were mad?" I asked.

"Yeah." She laughed loudly, "doesn't everyone do that?" She giggled. "What do you do when you're mad, then?"

"I- uh..." I started laughing because my voice felt tired. "When I'm mad... I go for a walk."

"Where do you go?" She slurred. She fell back onto the blanket and started laughing. I laughed as well and copied her movement - falling back and laying down beside her. We were both staring at each other and I'm pretty sure I wasn't doing a very good job at hiding my blush.

"I go to the park." I answered in a whisper.

"The park." She repeated before exposing a huge, goofy grin. Her dimple was bigger than ever and all I wanted to do was touch it.

Stupidly, I reached forward and placed my finger on top of her dimple and just stared at it. Her smile faded away and I couldn't feel it anymore.

"Smile." I said. "Please, I like your dimple!"

She smirked this time and I could feel it just faintly. It was like a tiny little hole underneath the tip of my finger. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy again and I wanted them to stop, but at the same time, it felt nice and I wanted them to keep flying around inside of me.

No. It can't feel nice. I made a vow.

I took my finger away suddenly and also happened to take her smile away with it. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were pursed. My heart could've burst right there.

"Ashley James..." She whispered. "I don't know how to read you."

"Read me?" I questioned. "What do you mean?"

"Like a book." Her voice was low and soft. "You're hard to read..." She trailed off and took a deep breath as she studied my face. "If you were a book," she began, "you'd be a big one. With tiny font. And a complicated plot."

"I'd be a hard book?" I asked as I smiled.

"Level-wise, yes." She nodded her head and closed her eyes. "And you wouldn't be paperback. You're worth more, I think." My heart pounded. "And the front cover would be extraordinary... It'd have a picture of what you'd expect the story to be about... But when you read it, it would deny your expectations." She hummed.

     I raised my eyebrows and giggled.

"When it denied the expectations..." I searched my brain for words as the butterflies flew around in my stomach. "Was it good... Or bad?"

"Very good." She opened her eyes and smiled. "But I've only finished reading chapter one."

My breath hitched.

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