Short Story #18

It feels so good when someone appreciates your writing and it helps to motivate me to continue. I think it was Lionel Ritchie on American Idols that said that even they (the judges) suffer from self-doubt and it is something that you work through for the rest of your life. It gave me hope for myself and my journey. We need to push through and do it anyway. Hope you are keeping well and finding time to relax or do something that you love. Have a splendid day filled with pleasant surprises, laughter and things that make your heart feel warm and fuzzy.

Like an injection of secreted mulled wine spread by the wings of a thousand butterflies, her entire body warmed from the pit of her stomach. The joy of her heart feeling near explosion by the reciprocated upturn of his lips.
She wondered if they would be soft like the teddy bears she had practiced on these past years, or solid like the muscles that rippled under his shirt. Oh, the thought had her pulse race, and the tip of her tongue run moisture across her own. But she was sure he had smiled out of kindness and good manners with no other meaning.
That same tongue struggled to unknot itself and assist in uttering an intelligible word a few minutes later when he came over and began to chat.
“Well done on all your achievements,” he congratulated for her slew of academic certificates that she had received.
“Thank you,” she managed to utter before her nerves took hold of her speaking capabilities again.
“Can I get you something to drink, ginger b?” he offered after an awkward silence.
She could only nod her head in response as she realized that the newly appointed headboy for the following year knew her name. As he walked away to get her who knows what, she berated herself for not returning the compliment on his successes. She still marveled that this gorgeous, athletic boy two grades above her knew who she was.
“Here is your ginger beer,” he said handing her a plastic cup and flashing his pearly whites. “I’m Kevin Akin by the way.”
“I know.”
“And you are?”
“Ginger Benson,” she replied, confused for a moment. Her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as she realized he’d been referring to the name of the drink, not her. She giggled inwardly at her foolishness but decided it didn’t matter because he didn’t know what she’d been thinking, and he had after all come to talk to her.
“I’m kidding,” he grinned. “I know who you are. I’ve known since you moved here two years ago.”
The pink of her cheeks darkened to a warm red as she bent her head.

by Debbie Gravett © 2020.12.12

Image by Cyn Yoder from Pixabay

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