Nine Weeks #FreeYourShorts

hardest

WHEN I WALKED through the halls at school I didn't register the smiles tossed my way, or the not-so-subtle glances boys spared, both of which I usually basked in. No, instead all I could focus on was Leo. We'd been dating for two and a half years but had known each other forever, and while we hadn't always been close, living on the same street gave us an easy acquaintanceship. It wasn't until high school that we began to notice one another, but once we did we were like magnets: north and south, always together, always attracting.

Maybe not always, I thought as I scanned the halls for his easy smile, not after this. I knew Leo like the back of my hand, and I loved him, but he wasn't going to take the news well. Especially because I had no idea what I was going to do.

When he caught sight of me he grinned, his expression relaxed and easy, so easy, and I wondered if I used to look like that, if I would ever look like that again. He threaded his hand through mine, eyes the same color as sea foam when he placed a kiss on my forehead. "Hey," His voice was quiet and sumptuous, so low I knew no one else could hear him. When he used to speak to me like this before it sent butterflies through me, rioting in my head and my stomach, but now all I could feel was churning anticipation.

"Hi." I searched his face, trying to memorize the carefree nature he still had. This, I thought, absentmindedly brushing my hand across my still flat stomach, is going to take that from him. "Are you free after school?" I knew I would have to tell him, sooner rather than later, but I couldn't bring myself to do it in broad daylight as we stood in the heart of our high school.

"For you," He squeezed my hand, making guilt pulse through my veins. "I'm always free." He kissed me again, this time on my lips, and I let myself melt into him. This might be the last time he kisses me like this, I thought. This might be the last time he feels this way about me.

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