Dear Chesca,
I’ve always wanted to talk to you. But not in this kind of way.
I wanted to say, ‘Hi, how are you?’ and be all casual and shit, instead, I said “Uhm, hey. About... the locker incident. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to see your body. I mean, I didn't want to see you naked. Don't get me wrong- you're sexy.. I mean no! You're not! I mean- crap. No, you're not a crap! You ARE sexy. Uhm... 10/10?"
I would really want to slap myself for saying that to you but as expected, you did the honor to do it. Again. But this time, you slapped me on the other cheek. You probably saw your hand print on my left cheek (which hasn’t faded yet) so you slapped the other side, which was a really good slap too, but not as good as yesterday.
Lucky, no one saw. But I still did the walk of shame with a hand mark/ slap mark on both of my cheeks, receiving weird looks from everyone.
Well, on the brighter side, you now know that I exist. I guess that’s better than last week, when you don’t even look at me. Now, you just don’t even ‘look’ at me, you even put force in those eyes, which is now I conclude a ‘glare’. You now glare at me with your eyes piercing through my soul. God, it felt so weird and good. Lol.
Guess I have to do that more often so you’ll glare at me again. Even though I want you to look at me in a ‘different’ way, buuuuut oh well, I guess I have to be contented about that for now.
When I got home, my sister thought I was blushing. The hand-shaped mark is slightly fading now but there’s still a red spot.
My face hurts till the end of the day, you know. I don’t even know if I should be mad because of this; being slapped and all, or should I be happy because you touched my face. Twice. I’m going insaaaane.
-Jet
