I have had a random craving for Smitchie fluff, and this hit me while awake from a really, really wierd dream at about 5:30 in the morning.
Enjoy, xoxo Smiley.
At the moment, Shane Gray could not concentrate. The seventeen-year old pop star was technically supposed to be brainstorming ideas for a new song for his band, Connect3. Instead he was doodling in the margins of the notebook open in front of him and trying not to pay attention to the pretty guitar music coming from his right.
Mitchie Torres was lying stretched out on the dock she and Shane were sitting on. Her head was resting on the back of her best-guy-friend, an old acoustic guitar in her hands. Shane was splayed out on his stomach, a spiral notebook in front of him. He turned to watch her play, and smiled to himself. Her dark brown hair was whipped around her face, slightly red in the sunlight. Eyes closed, with a soft, content smile on her face, as she strummed with no real melody, letting her fingers go where they pleased. He tried to forget how his torso tingled slightly whenever her elbow brushed it as she played, how he was glad she couldn't see him looking at her. Shane shook his head; the heat must be getting to him. Mitchie was Mitchie, his best friend other than his bandmates; he didn't think about her like that.
The stiff lakeside wind whipped up the pages of the notebook, blowing to a new page and sending his pencil to the side of the dock. Shane strained to reach it; he didn't want to disturb Mitchie. He let out a groan of frustration as his fingers just brushed it, then knocked it even farther away from him.
"Shane?" she asked. Her voice was slightly groggy, like she'd just woken up and noticed he was there. His frustration melted momentarily as he saw her glance at him, her eyes warm and trusting. "Sorry, Mitch," he groaned, "My pencil's gone."
She chuckled. "Sorry." Mitchie lifted her head enough for him to quickly grab the pencil, then dropped her head back on his back. Shane tried again desperately to focus, but he couldn't ignore the way his back was tingling, and it didn't feel like it was asleep.
The guitar didn't resume its playing, and he heard it being put in its case. Her voice piped up again. "Hey, Shane?"
"Yeah?" he responded, glad to have an excuse to leave his work.
"Can I ask you a really random question? Like, so random we've probably never even talked about this."
"Uh, sure." He twisted his head to face her and saw Mitchie biting her lip in an embarrassed way, but meeting his eyes.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Shane flipped over on his back, so quickly it didn't even jar her. He cupped his head in his hands and looked at her curiously.
"Are you like, PMS-ing? 'Cause if you are than I am so not answering. I'm not prepared to deal with a hormonal female."
Mitchie reached over and slapped his knee. "No, I'm not PMS-ing, and if you're smart you'll not say such a thing when I am."
Shane laughed, ignoring (unsuccessfully) the rush of heat to his kneecap where she touched it. She smiled sheepishly, but then looked at him seriously.
"How come you're asking now? You've never asked this before."
"I dunno. My mom and dad always tell me how pretty I am, and Sierra too, but I've never had a guy's opinion, ya know?" She was sitting up now, and she shrugged at him. But then she looked at him seriously again, as she stretched out again on her back.
"You didn't answer the question," she almost whispered, avoiding his face.
Shane's mind reeled. Did he think Mitchie was pretty? Mitchie, with her thick brown hair, bangs feather-light in front of her chocolate-brown eyes. Mitchie, with her big smile that made his heart melt and hurt at the same time. Mitchie, with her pretty laugh and gorgeous voice and her glowing expression when she sang.
He lifted his legs from beside her, and in one smooth motion, flipped his body so he was lying on his side, facing her, so close he could touch her. He rested his head on his hand, elbow propped up on the dock. Shane heard her breath catch when he reached out and brushed away the strand of hair in her face.
"Honestly?" he asked. Mitchie nodded, her breath still coming in short, irregular gasps. "Honestly," she whispered.
Shane smiled down at her. "I think you're beautiful."
Reviews, please?
If it's cute, tell me why.