Little Girl | L. Hemmings

sixteen - water will suffice

⇢

Saturday came along a lot quicker than I anticipated but I wasn't complaining. I was ready for that whole week to be over and done for, and ready to start my blazing weekend: Watching Netflix all day, and eating all I want. What could possibly go wrong with that? No one was here to stop me and kill my mood so I thought it was heavenly.

Like usual, my mother was out and so was my brother but again Luke stayed behind like the lump of potatoes he is. Unless for school, I don't think he has actually left the house. Matter of factly, he's been sitting down on this couch with me practically all week. I enjoyed his company though. It was nice not to be alone all the time.

But I would like some free time to dance around in my underwear and sing songs really badly without anyone hearing. I'm sure he wouldn't mind that though; The dancing around in my underwear bit.

I grabbed my throw blanket off my chair in my room and made my way downstairs to the big TV which already had Netflix made into it. Has it's own control on the remote and everything.

However, as I stepped down the stairs I could see Luke's figure already on the couch, feet propped up on the table. I could hear he was playing the baseball game that was currently on. I made my way downstairs completely and looked at the boy across from with a blank stare. His eyes didn't leave the screen for a couple more seconds before landing on me.

"Yeah?"

"Can't you be a normal twenty year old and go out and party?" I whined, plopping myself down beside him.

"I could say the same thing about you. It's Saturday, isn't someone throwing a party?" He retorted, challenging me.

"We both know I'm not a party type. You sir are however. So go on, get drunk, get high, get laid," I shooed.

He just rolled his eyes at my statement and turned back to the game. I took this as my chance to give him a once over. He was wearing plain basketball shorts and a t-shirt. His hair was disheveled like he was running his hands through it all day. I never actually got the chance to, but I've always wanted to touch his hair. It always seems so soft.

He was growing a bit of scruff along his jaw which accentuated his face in just the right way. His eyebrows furrowed together as he watched the game intently. But then I saw his mouth twinge, going up into a smirk.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he spoke, not removing his eyes from in front of him.

My cheeks heated at his words. Even though he wasn't looking my way he could clearly see I was eyeing him up. "Don't flatter yourself."

He chuckled at me, his eyes now finding focus on mine.

"Just admit it, you were checking me out," he grinned, licking his lips. Why I oughta.

"I won't admit to anything that I didn't do," I scoffed, breaking eye contact with him.

"Is it my scruff? Or maybe my hair? How about my jaw?" He whispered in a suggestive manner.

The heat in my cheeks didn't disappear. I knew that if I could still feel the heat, he could definitely see them. I was most likely as red as a tomato.

I now ignored him. He leaned over and poked my cheek, trying to get me to say something, but I didn't budge.

"Are you shy now, little girl?" He questioned, pushing my hair behind my ear.