onetwothree
by mistsplash
She taunting him, she knows, with girlish clothes and pretty hair and there's-something-more smiles. She wonders when he'll break, and she expects (more like hopes) it's soon, because honestly, she can't wait any longer and if he won't do anything, she will.
(she can only play these games for so long)
::
He's annoying her, he knows, with sometimes-subtle glances and what-are-you-waiting-for smirks and boyish charm. He wonders when she'll stop playing that silly little game of hers, even though he has to admit that it's working (very well, actually), because he can't take it much longer.
(he can only restrain himself for so long)
::
They meet up innocently enough, with the promise of ice cream and laughter and good fun. It's a breezy day, with every flower in bloom and the sky that perfect blue that you can only find on canvas.
It's very plain and chaste (or something like that).
Then, there are the little things—she brushes her hand against his arm, leaves it there for a few more seconds, and throws him a sweetly smug look; he bumps into her on accident (or so he says) and lets his hand linger near her thigh, a bit on her arm, before finally stopping and giving her his best sheepish grin.
The wind's rustling her hair and he can smell her scent (it's a sort of flowery-strawberry mix) and damn, he just wants to reach out and run his hands through her locks and say, plain and simple, you're mine.
The sun is reflecting off his skin, making it more bronze than she knows it is and she can't stop staring because he looks handsome (not boyishly cute, for once) and that's something to marvel at, right?
She looks up at his face, feeling oddly dizzy and warm at being caught looking, and he's staring at her in that same way—and then his lips are on hers and it's the most wonderful thing she's ever tasted, felt, had. She leans in, nearly tripping over her own feet, and his arms wrap around her thin waist (when did she get so small?) and she just melts, which is weird because she's not the type to fall in love, but then she remembers that she started this whole game, anyways.
Author's Notes:
I've been a fluffy mood, strangely enough. Reviews are love.
