It may seem funny, but I like the way certain words taste in my mouth. Words like apple, supple, maple, nipple. Okay, they might not really taste like anything, but the way their softness rolls off my tongue and spills over my lips warms me at my core. If I could equate it to anything tangible, it would be like cotton candy; soft, sweet words that melt mercilessly before fully leaving my mouth. I find myself constantly twisting my tongue over them, as if in prayer. They put me at ease, especially when the only words used to describe me set my teeth on edge.

Careless. Cunning. Cold. Crude. Crass. Caged.

I am never perceived as soft or sweet; not like that's important to me or anything. Being the top bitch in a sea full of self-pitying mouth-breathers means making sacrifices. So in return for social clout, I've hardened my soft sweetness into a second skin. An armor, if you will, that allows me to keep climbing the high school hierarchy while deflecting anything that threatens to pull be back down to the plebs.

Lately, however, my armor has been lackluster, all thanks to one Brittany S. Pierce. It's like she's all of my favorite words in one, and just like that, my silent string-of-words prayer has been replaced. I can't decide if it's the sunlight that has managed to manifest itself in her hair, the rose petal lips that purse slightly while she's deep in concentration, or her endless sapphire ocean eyes that have my heart beating in my throat. I do know one thing. She, like my favorite words, warms me throughout. And sometimes I think, just maybe, the soft, sweet side of me is still there.