The Devil's Smile - Editing

𝗢𝗡𝗘

𝗢𝗡𝗘 - 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢 𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗡𝗫𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬

•••

Some time in the future

The devil works hard but oh boy does Charlie King work harder.

His smile, oh my, that smile. Some would say he had the smile of a devil and by some, I mean everyone. It was literally his thing and it was true.

I know this for a fact because I would do almost anything just to see it again.

But that's probably half the reason why I ended up here, in emergency care with a broken wrist at 1AM the same week he tattooed me.

Fucking smile of the devil.

I guess you're probably wondering how I've ended up in this predicament, so lets go back eleven years to my second year at school, his first year here.

Eleven years ago

I was playing in the sandbox at playtime when the heartthrob of the class, Elijah, had come over and I could already feel the nerves creep up on me and this memory is what I like to call my intro to anxiety as it was the first time I recall feeling that creeping dread in my chest and stomach, the small shake of my hands and the thumping of my heart.

"Hey can I play here too?" His face was red and a sheen of sweat coated him as it was so hot outside. He had just been racing his friends, who could run the fastest. I nodded my head, my pale brown hair, lightened by the summer sun, slapping me in the face in the process.

"Thanks" he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes at the same time a blush crept up on his face. He was essentially the all American boy that girls dream about, like the type you used to see outside of Hollister, except he was five. With mousey brownish-blondish hair that covered his forehead and got in his eyes, he had soft features and blue eyes.

We didn't talk, in fact we just awkwardly played with the sand and made sand castles, our hands occasionally brushed each other making us look up at one another. It was peaceful until his friends made their way over after realising he was no longer beside them.

"Ew! You like her! Eli likes the quiet girl!" They chanted teasingly.

I'm not sure if it was more embarrassing for him or me.

"I do not!" Elijah defended himself

"Yes you do! You've been holding her hand" they began shouting again and suddenly we both became aware of how close we was standing together. "You like her!"

Eli took a step back and so did I. Actually I wanted to run and hide but the small step was all my legs would allow, anxiety keeping me rooted to the spot like a stubborn weed.

I wasn't fully comprehensive of what was happening until I was shoved onto the floor, Elijah shouting about how he doesn't like me.

I mean, how could he?

"I don't like her! She's weird! Look at her!"

His friends began to disperse not even seconds after I was pushed to the floor and it was Elijah, his best friend and I.

Still on the floor, almost in tears, he continued, "I don't like her, she's ugly" trying to convince his friend.