"Baby, why don't you ever smile?" Sodapop and I were sitting on the couch, looking at his old yearbooks. We'd always been in the same class, so we were looking younger versions of ourselves. We laughed at our baby fifth grade photos and awkward eight grade photos. He was looking through the sports section of our latest
"I do all the time."
"No, you smirk." He says, grabbing some of the yearbooks we'd already searched through. "Sixth grade, no smile." He grabs two more, "Eighth grade, no smile. Ninth grade, no smile."
"I am smiling in all of these Soda."
"No, you're smirking." He points out. "You never truly smile, why?"
"I don't know," I say, "that's my smile."
"That is not a smile." He says, "Smile for me."
"Sodapop, that is smiling."
"Smile for me." He repeats.
I did what he tells me, my signature closed-mouth smile. "Y/N!" He complains.
"What?"
"Smile for real."
"I just did."
"No you didn't."
"Yes I did Soda, lay off."
"Why don't you smile for me?" He asks me innocently.
"Because my teeth are terrible." I finally admit.
"No they aren't."
"Mm hmm," I say back.
"No way Y/N," he says.
"Believe it Soda, my teeth are terrible." I tell him. "I never show my teeth for pictures, I'm embarrassed about them."
"They can't be as bad as Steve's." He jokes.
I scoff. "They are."
"Then show me."
"No way."
"C'mon," he pleas, "I'm not gonna judge you. Just show me." I finally give in, smiling with my teeth in what seems like forever. I have been self-conscious about them since I lost my baby teeth, they were really crooked. I can't believe I'm even showing him. His face lights up while I close mt mouth.
"Baby, why do you hide this?" He asks me like I just told him a have a huge hidden talent. "More people should see how much your eyes light up when you smile."
"No way in hell Soda."
"Fine," he says, "if you won't show other people your beauty, will ya at least show me?"
"We'll see Curtis." I tease.
