The following story was written by my daughter Macy for her literary magazine submission at school. It is a non-dialogue short story. I am so very proud of her. She loves to write. Not a bad hobby to have as a teen girl! Someday she will be a professional author and people will line up for her newest releases!
I grinned as arms wrapped around my waist. His scent enveloped my mind as he put his face in my neck. He didn’t greet me with anything except the hug.
I loved when we didn’t need to speak to each other. I enjoyed speaking with him, but when we didn’t need words to communicate, I felt special… I knew how to speak to him without using my voice, which was a hard task, apparently.
I continued to work on my homework, him still holding my waist. I was about done when he started playing with my hair. He liked my hair, as he’s told me multiple times… I didn’t like it, but he did, so I’d leave it how it always was.
He wasn’t aware of things I did just to please him… I’m sure, he doesn’t know. I listen to what he says more than he knows, though. When he tells me he likes my outfit, I wear it once a week - especially the days I know I see him. When he tells me he likes the way my hair smells, I continue using the hair products…Just for him.
I don’t put nearly as much thought into what my parents tell me about my appearance anymore… No. He’s the only one who influences my dressing style.
I finished writing and he smiled against my neck, seeing that. I turned around in his arms and hugged him, correctly. I put my head on his shoulder while in the embrace, my breath tickling his skin. If I was looking at him, I’d be able to see the face he was surely making right now. The adorable face that showed I was, in fact, tickling him.
He made the most amazing facial expressions. He was quite like an open book and it was amazing to be able to tell his mood by just looking at him. His mood was generally happy, which was always enough to simply make me smile. He’s told me that I was the reason he’s always happy, but I don’t think that’s very truthful of him…He can keep saying it though, my opinion won’t change.
After a few peaceful moments in the hold, I pulled back to smile at him. He pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, smiling. He cupped my cheek in his hand, murmuring the word beautiful, almost too quiet for me to hear. I scowled up at him, shaking my head, but he covered my lips with his own before I could argue. I didn’t fight the kiss, since he’d use other methods of keeping me from arguing.
We both heard footsteps coming into the kitchen, making our lips detach. Neither of my parents fancied him much, so we weren’t allowed to kiss - or touch, really - inside the house.
My dad glanced at the clock, almost smirking upon seeing it was four thirty - the time he was made to leave because dinner was served at five - and he told my boyfriend it was time to leave.
He nodded and asked me to walk him to the door, shoving his hands in his pockets. I complied, following him to the front hall. I opened the door for him, beating him to it, and he stepped outside. I was about to go back inside when he grabbed my waist. He slid both his hands into my back pockets and pulled me close for a kiss. When the innocent kiss was over, he grinned. He whispered that he loved me before skipping away.
I smiled and went inside and back to the kitchen. My dad started talking to me about something as I zoned off. I slid my hands into my back pockets while swaying in place, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion when I felt something in one of the pockets. I pulled whatever it was out of my pocket and smiled. It was a guitar pick with a turtle on it. I assumed he had slipped it into my pocket when he pulled me in for a kiss. He knew that I loved turtles. I carefully put it in my front pocket, smiling.
I love that boy.