Disclaimer: I don't own SpongeBob SqaurePants. He and the rest of the characters belong to their rightful owner, the genius; Stephen Hilenburg.

Notes: This chapter is strictly in SANDY'S point of view. In some episodes of SpongeBob, he seems to know a thing or too about love and attraction. He did set up Squidward on date with a girl, set up Mr. Krabs once with Ms. Puff and he helped Plankton woo his wife. (Unfortunately) he also date a krabby patty, so he knows how to be in a relationship. I'm positive he knows a thing or too in the art of flirting, but does Sandy? Thanks for the awesome reviews and enjoy!

Title: Flirting


I blush, I stutter and flush again. I get shy, I get nervous and then I know I'm flattered. In some moments, I'm scared I might melt warmer than butter on a swelterin' day in July or turner redder than sick dog's nose. I'm unable to think clearly and it's all because of him; SpongeBob. It's what he says, how he says what he says, and what he does when he says what he says, or sometimes it's just that darn smile (with the cute freckles) of his that sets things off the phone hook.

What he's doin' is plain and simple.

He's flirting with me.

For a reason I might or might not know.

The lil' yellow dude flirts quite regularly with me now, and...I don't know how to respond! I mean, he must know or have read my diary that I like his eyes, scratch that. He must know from some reliable source that I am deeply intrigued by his blue irises, but that doesn't explain why he's teasin' me, if I can call it that. I need to stop getting' all worked up over this issue, it's just been quite a while since someone has been placin' interest in me-I tell myself this repeatedly. All I know is that two can play at this game, if this is what it is. I ain't gonna let him win, I won't go down without an attempt. Now that I think about it, if this is some kind of war, then I lost a battle recently.

.

.

Two days ago, around mid-day, he came over.

"That's some purty looking flowers you got there," I remarked, due to seein' the gorgeous display of fiery orange flower bulbs (which are now sitting on my desk in my room). "Who's it for?" I remember asking, obviously knowing.

He shrugged his shoulders in a causal manner. "Just some pretty looking flowery, for a purty looking girl." he says, handing the flowers over to me. It was a offhand compliment. Something that could be said and let off the leash for, but that didn't stop the redness on mah cheeks from growin'.

We sat down and discussed his questions on how he could cut down on bills for his pineapple house.

"So by reducing the amount of water you use for...SpongeBob?" I questioned. Noticing he seems to be gazing elsewhere.

"Yes, Sandra." He says, quickly re-focusing on me.

I folded my arms briefly in annoyance. "Y'all seemed pretty preoccupied with something." I stated.

He chuckled to himself, this did confuse me. We were sitting at the picnic table, so he reached out for one of my hands on the table and spoke.

"Rest assured Sandy, when I say all I was thinkin' about was your words, your voice, you." he articulates his words slow and calmly. I can't respond to it because his tone is deeper than usual and it's just so mature. His eyes are too intently focused in mine, burnin' them hotter than meat at a barbecue. I blink and chose the moment there and then to excuse myself.

.

.

I shake my head, ashamed that I reacted like a shy sixteen year old in front of him a few days ago. SpongeBob has had some lessons in coquetry unless he naturally knows how to release a number of butterflies in someone's stomach. Me on the other hand, I was beyond rusty in mah flirtin' aptitude. I hadn't flirted with a guy in years. Heck, the only time I remember acting like a coquette was when I had mah Southern belle persona for that fancy event...a Southern belle! The honeysuckle speech, charm, beauty and grace. For sure, that could work. 'I think I've found the oil for mah rusty parts.' I think to myself.

.

.

I call SpongeBob by phone, and speak to him in my normal friendly tone (for now), and invite him over for tea at the tree dome for catching up on his week. He accepts, claiming he wouldn't miss it for the world.

The door bell rings, and I prepare myself mentally on what to do. 'Be charming and oh so nice. Make him feel good. Shower him with warm smiles and kindness, don't be afraid to bat the eye lashes once in a while'.

"Hiya, Sandy!" he greets.

"Howdy to y'all too! Get down and cool the seat of yer saddle Darlin'." I respond cheerfully. I watch his response at my endearment for him. I don't normally add the Southerner hospitality nick names to my friends down in Bikini Bottom, so seeing the mild confusion in his face shows me that I've done something right in this game.

.

.

"Want any sugar, Shugah?" The line I say is tilting to the 'corny' area but I still want to make it obvious in what I am doing.

"I'd be a fool to say no." is all that he says while I place two cubes of sugar in his tea. As I raise my cup to sip my drink, I see him mimickin' my actions. At the same time, the warm flavour of mint juelp travels down our throats. Our eye contact isn't broken once.

"Mmm, how the tea?" I ask him. "Ain't it just the sweetest."

"Oh, it's sweet allright, but I happen to know someone sweeter..." is what he says. I waved my hand down at him and cast my eyes elsewhere, cause I know he's starin' at me and he's knows that I know that, that comment was directed at me. I can't let him see me flustered, so I start off conversation.

I put forth words. "Tell me about your week? I'm dyin' to know what you've been up to."

He smiles at this, and begins to recount the hectic two weeks the Krusty Krab has faced. It's something about hungry nematodes. It's intrestin' but I'm far more concerned in the jolt of his body as my legs (intentionally) brush (frequently) against his underneath the table. I find myself incredibly satisfied by the stutters that come out of his mouth. I wanna jump in victory at the blush on his face that won't stop growin'.

My hand covers my mouth. I speak out, in an apologetic manner. "Oh, goodness! Pardon me for my manners, I should control my actions better."

"No need worry Sandy, I should be the be the one to compose themselves better." he says, giving me a smile, a real genuine SpongeBob smile. His tone is normal, simple and just plain ol' him. This alone reacts a spontaneous response out of me.

"I don't think so," I start. "You're already a composed individual alongside other qualities." This come out of my mouth unforced. I mean it. I truly do.

His brows raise up in surprise which is quickly wiped off his face. A grin, wide and excited is impossible to miss from him.

"Ms. Cheeks," he exclaims in mock-shock. "Are you flirting with me?" he asks.

He's called me out.

Tricked me also into replying.

But, I see it there and then. Shining brighter than anythin. That playful smile upon his lips, the mirth full of delight in his big ol' blue eyes. He's not really asking a question but more of posing a challenging. A challenge if I'm able to participate in this new game, adventure or past-time in our relationship where things are amusingly different. I, Sandy Cheeks, being the thrill-seeking, risk taker I am, reply with ease.

"I'm not sure," I turn attention elsewhere whilst speaking. "If chances are that I am," I state resting one arms, upright on the table, with my head leaning onto it, head turned. My eyes meeting his. "Do you find it a problem?"

A/N: Do you guys find it a problem? Thanks for reading. Constructive Criticism and advice is always welcomed.