The Art of Playing Love

Preface

           I wasn’t even halfway to him when he already began talking.

           “It’s fascinating how you constantly welcome yourself in here.” He said, instantly flaring my nose up. “However my hunch was right.”

          “And what would that be?”

          “Nothing much, really. I just kind of, maybe had a feeling that that wasn’t your last visit in here for today. So I’m guessing you’re here to finally admit what an amazing opportunity being chosen is.”

          When I finally reached his beach bed, I crossed my arms. “On the contrary, my goal hasn’t changed. I’m still here to ask you politely to remove me from the list.”

          He seemed a little taken aback, surprised by what I said and probably triggered by the word politely. “Oh, so after all, you are aware of the word politely and are actually capable of it. Humor me.”

          It was then when I noticed his current condition. His whole body was dripping, his hair damp flattened above his head, and he was only wearing a pair of navy blue beach shorts, which drew out the paleness of his skin.

          He noticed my prolonged stare at his body and smirked. “Like what you see Noah?”

          I scoffed as I successfully bounced the impending blush off my cheeks. “I’ve seen way much better.”

          His triumphant smirk dropped and started glaring back. I have to admit, him angry and wet is a brilliant combination.

          “So, as I was saying—and I hope no interruptions are going to cause me again—I want you to remove me from the list of the date-sucker hobos.”

          “That’s the politest way you can?” He asked. “And you’re actually thinking I'm gonna let you off with that?”

          I gave him a one shoulder shrug.

          Another triumphant leer crawled its way onto his bright red lips—an image I took in with great horror. “Say please.”

          I rolled my eyes. “I want you to remove me from the list of the date-sucker hobos… please.”

          “That’s an order.” He said.

          “Mr. Ryan Christopher Maldives Banks, can you please with cherries on top remove me from the list of the date-sucker hobos.”

          “Beg.”

          “Pretty please?” My statement came off as a question, my tone hiking at the end.

          He smiled and stood up. Droplets of water dripped from his body as he was. He closed the distance between us and a shiny amount of one inch was left. His minty breath teased my nostrils and the flare going out of them before immediately retreated. I got a good sight of his bright red lips and I…

          “No.”

          Everything around us came falling apart. He was the only thing that clouded my vision and I immediately had the compelling urge to scoop my eyes out from their sockets.

          “After I begged? You’re an animal.” I finally said. “This is not fair.”

          He chuckled softly and a breath of his carbon dioxide strode playfully up my nostrils. “Darling, whoever told you life is fair?”

          “Oh you should know!” I exclaimed. “Raised with the promise of the world’s greatness in your hands since birth, you self-absorbed Omaticaya!”

          “Aren’t you?” He zeroed in on me. His expression turned from angry to mocking.

          I sneered, my voice acerbic. “Oh, I’m far from you, you decaying stuck-up moron.”

          “You really are high on adjectives.” He said, his voice full of astonishment. “No wonder you’re the editor in chief of the school’s publication club.”

          My eyes narrowed. “Oh stop backslapping me, you apple polishing demon and let’s just get on with it! Let’s not wait anymore to be inside that sycophantic prison villa and just deal with it right now! What do you fucking want with me? Tell me! Show me!”

          His voice was gentle. “You might regret saying those words, Holman.” The word, and his tone, immediately caught me off guard.

          I squirmed, the slightest bit, clenching my jaw against all the vivid stream of profanities, of invectives I wanted to hurl at him, not offering an answer of approval or disapproval.

          And then I regretted it.

          A/N.

          Dan-dan! For the first time, I'm entering the Watty Awards and this is my entry. I might enter another story and it's gonna be about teenage pregnancy. Just be open about it. So... I'll need your support guys. I hope you'll provide me what I'm asking you. 

          So... comments will be highly appreciated! I'll love it.

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