{disclaimer: i put this gif here when i was 13 and delusional, it does not truly capture the ~essence~ of this chappie's events but the comments left on it are too funny for me to remove it lol carry on!}
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎
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H E R
I was sitting on the steps, waiting for Carl to finish up his time in the fields. I could tell it wasn't going to be much longer. My whole life seemed to unconsciously revolve around a set of scheduled events. Starting with breakfast and ending with dinner, everything just fell into place between the two meals.
Just on time, Carl was beginning to make his way towards me.
He had the corners of his lips raised, but only slightly. Barely there but still existent.
A smile, once such a rarity from him, had become an easy occurrence. To the point where if even I smiled at him, he would smile back. A small victory today as he was doing it all on his own as he approached.
I stood up, prepared to greet him.
He slowed his pace, suddenly dropping his shoulders dramatically and jutting his chin out as he pulled his bottom lip out, eyes wide and blinking slow in the perfect form of Sad Puppy.
"What's this?" I asked with a laugh at the small performance he put on, watching as he dragged his feet closer. He rolled his eyes at me with flourish, obviously trying to humor me. "What did I do to get your panties in a twist?"
"Don't think you have any effect whatsoever on my panties." He straightened up, sighing. "I just remember we have to go can preserves for Carol."
"Yeah. Why do you think I'm standing here waiting for you?"
"Well, you always stand here and wait for me." He replied, taciturn, before he groaned. "She's probably going to make me shower first, isn't she?"
I looked him over, watched as a bead of sweat fell from his throat, lingering along his collarbone, before disappearing beneath the light linen of his flannel. I swallowed hard and quickly averted my eyes to his, trying to remain casual. "Probably. You're filthy." Well, he was. The mud caked into his jeans was not acceptable for any kitchen duty he was assigned to.
He groaned once more before extending his hand out to me. "Hey, real quick, can you get this sliver out? My fingers are too dirty and it's been bugging the hell out of me."
I reached out and took his hand in my own, investigating his calloused palm. I saw it, the thin thorn buried in his rough skin. Too small to get out with my bitten-to-the-nub fingernails. Without much thought, I brought his hand to my face, using my teeth to pull it from his skin and spit it away. "There." I told him. "All better."
