I'm half walking, half running to the idling vehicle. You spot me coming from my house and wave.
"Liv Andersen, you could not be a bigger cliche." I look at you and raise a wary eyebrow.
"The color yellow, whitewashed dungarees, all white Chuck Taylors..." You scan me over in mock disdain.
I give you a playful shove and you laugh back. "Try some." You say, giving me a smile that I don't want to end.
It's something sweet and salty, savoury and gooey. I look at him and his wispy hair, and I look at all the things that we will have shared together.
YOU ARE READING
one hundred ways
Romance"Pull over. Let me drive for a while." In which 0.1-2k word fragments show a frazzled golden girl cliche meeting the boy-next-door stereotype. Falling in love ensues.
