Chapter 11

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Apparently this story is now rated R

What the fuck I love it

Woo hoo

Rated R

Yeah

Woo hoo

Enjoy my teddy bears 🐻

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"So what are we making for your parents?" Milan asked. He pulled into the parking lot of Stop and Shop.

"Well I'm thinking something quick, easy, but delicious. Um...pasta? I have no idea," I admitted.

"Yeah. Pasta sounds great. This is gonna go just fine. We already have the spaghetti at home, right?" he asked. I nodded. "Alright. And I have some left over sauce that I can heat up from two nights ago. We just need mozzarella, chicken cutlets, and we'll be all set."

"Alright. Sounds fantastic."

We got out of the car and locked it. We walked through the parking lot, Milan on the outside protectively. He didn't want me too close to the cars speeding through the parking lot. By the time we got inside, I already was thinking of ways to skillfully un-invite my parents. I loved them and all, but I didn't need this right now. You know what I could use though....I looked over Milan's body. Woah.

Oh stop it, I scolded myself.

"Baby you're a fiiiiirework! C'mon show 'em whaaaat you're worth!" Milan sang to the Katy Perry playing from the speakers. I shook my head and laughed. He grabbed a basket and we went to grab the cheese. We were pretty quiet, besides the occasional song lyric from Milan. We were in and out in ten minutes. By the time we got to the car, I was exhausted. But Milan, somehow, was full of energy and chipper. He turned on the radio and Kiss You by One Direction was on.

"Yeah, so tell me girl if every time we to-o-uch you get this kind of ru-u-ush. Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. If you don't wanna take it slow, and you just wanna take me home baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, and let me kiss you!" Milan sang off key.

"That was horrible. Don't pursue a career in music," I teased.

"I don't plan on it," he chuckled. Then he squeezed my hand. "Why do you worry about your family?"

"Because I'm afraid they won't see what I see," I replied immediately. "I am. I'm afraid that no one sees what I see, and everyone thinks I'm crazy for dating you."

"And why would anyone think that?" he slightly frowned.

"Because people think you're this badass, boxing, 6'4 hockey player with big arms and an angry glare," I replied honestly. Oh shit. I said badass. He didn't catch it though.

"What am I then?" he asked.

"You're this amazing, funny, 6'4 teddy bear who likes macaroni n' cheese and cuddling," I said. "I mean, yeah, you're a hockey player that can punch people and stuff, but there's so much more to you."

"That's the thing I enjoy though," he said thoughtfully. "That people can appear so different on the outside than they actually are."

"Yeah, it is," I nodded.

"Like you, for example. You seem like this funny, loud, awkward and carefree person. But really? You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, you're fiercely proud, and extremely protective. You love harder than anyone I've ever met, and you wear your heart on your sleeve. Am I right?" he asked. I laughed slightly.

Heart Like Yours \\ M. LucicWhere stories live. Discover now