Okay, these t-straps are cute, but I feel too old to wear them. 21. Wearin' them anyways! Haa! I'm making circles in the dirty ground by the bench. I look at my watch. He should be here. Uh, yeah. I am still at school and I have work in less than an hour. Can not believe this but why I am here is exciting. It's great. I should just leave. Forget love...what has it ever done for me?! Just kidding, need it. I mess with my hair...disgusted with it. I have short voluminous hair. Which means you can't do much with it. You just have to let it go on its own. It frames my face so that is a plus. I put on another coat of lipgloss and check my face in my mirror. My dark freckles are prominent against my darker skin. Weird. I look fine, I just wonder sometimes if that's enough. This bench is hot. Take a peek at my cell phone. Act like I'm texting when someone I went to high school with passes by, and then go back to being aloof. I wonder what he will do when he sees me? I start to picture his face, his blue eyes. Him, grinning so big and sitting next to me speaking and saying things it seems that I put into his head. All the things I want him to say but in fact, what's on his mind. Even though we are in a public place, all time and movement stops. To us, we hold time. He says something about my outfit and touches my lacy shoulder saying that it's too cute. I know that. You don't have to say. We stare at one another; as if it's the first and last time we will be in this moment. This lovely moment. I take this all in with vigor because, you know. I'm new at this. At this closeness with a boy. With something not a girl. On the other hand, he is not; he knows what girls want but for some odd reason I made him falter. I tripped him up and now here we are. Maybe it's because I actually tripped him when we met. Whoops! Studying each other with eyes that hold questions. About life. About love. Some of them I've been dying to know. He breaks the silence, "Can I do something?" Without my yes or no, he lifts one hand carefully and cups my face. His fingers brush against my skin and make an imaginary line from the bridge of my nose to my cheekbone. With him touching me and this close, I shut my eyes because I feel like my ears are burning. That's right. I don't blush, I burn. "Your freckles seem so light today. They're pretty." I look up and give him a big smile. He smiles and leans closer all the while staring at the part of my face that isn't my eyes or nose. I use his other arm for support, and he takes this chance to bring me close. Close. Something I am beginning to know...his scent is inviting and strange to me. In a good way. Boys are soft, too.
Please let me know what you think about this, and any suggestions/critiques are welcome! Creative criticism, please, not harsh stuff. Because then I'll be mad at you. I don't want to do that.
Love youuu!
Rachel
#7: God has a way of shaking my life up like fake snow in a snowglobe.
1 comment:
"That's right. I don't blush, I burn."
"Boys are soft, too."
Love these lines. :)
Maybe ease up just a bit on the conversational tone. It sounds just like you, which is wonderful, but it's almost too much for people who don't know you.
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