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A Silly Romantic Excerpt Out of My Friend's Life
"Come here, loca" he says, pulling me into his arms gently.
'Loca'. Here's another one. Rarely does he ever call me by my real name. He's always like this-baby, hon, darlo, sweetie, kiddo, shona, love, and today, loca. He’s probably forgotten my real name. oh well, so much for somebody you love.
I close my eyes and lean my head to his chest, taking in the muffled sound of his heartbeat-lub dub lub dub- and the faint smell of his perfume. The whole aura around us is intoxicating. Okay, I admit, I get carried away easily but hey, this is supposed to be a ‘romantic’ excerpt so…
I’m brought out of my reverie by the recognition of something caressing my hair. I open up an eye and childishly put my head up- only to find that ‘something’ to be his hand. He chuckles at my expression and says,”You know kiddo, sometimes you look so innocent that I have check on my maturity level.” The grin on his face stays as his hand brushes my hair away from my forehead and tucks it behind my ear. His hand trails down, his fingers gently tracing the air just above my arm, stops at my waist. I snuggle closer to him.
This simple proximity with each other is so satisfying and embellishing- makes me feel like he’s here now and he’ll be here forever, like this, with me.
I sigh and start playing with the button of his button-down celestial blue shirt. “You know Jake asked me to the annual dance.” I say.
His grip around my waist tightens. From the corner of my eye, I can see that his hand is bowled into a fist. Ha! And everybody says I am possessive! Well, Hello people! Morning!
“Yeah? And what did you say?” he asks in a quiet voice. Though all pacified, indulging and basically a non-violent person, he too sometimes has his strokes and fits of anger. Guys. Period.
“Obviously, no!!” I say, looking up trying my best not to laugh at his stupid stroke of anger.
“Ahan? Why so, ma’am?” he says, arching a perfect eyebrow.
“Because, you see, sir, I’m so selfless. If I go with him, then the only person left to go with you would be the matron. See, my sacrifice for you?” I say, lighting things up a bit.
“So funny, you know.” He makes a face.
“Born this way” I say, kissing him softly on his lips.
It’s the doorbell that reminds me where I am- in his room with him. Hoping that it’s not his parents, I get up from the bed and start for my shoes.
“Hey, why are you going?” he complains as he gets up too. His brown hairs are ruffled and messy- he looks pretty good like that. ;)
“I’m going because I don’t want this to be the last time we ever get together” I say, ruffling his already ruffled hairs, kissing his forehead and rushing out of his bedroom, down the stairs, hiding in his kitchen. I watch as he comes down a minute later to answer the door. It’s his parents. Phew, that was close. As soon as he ushers them in, I sprint out. I look back in a bit. He’s closing the door. At that moment, I try to snatch that memory of mine(consisting of him) and try to lock it in the deepest core of my heart, for I’ll need it to engage me for the rest of the day and till the morning, when I’ll see him in school. Tomorrow.