45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

Thirty-Three

“Day forty-three,” I whispered as I turned the corner of the hallway, ignoring curious glances.  “Breton is nowhere to be found.  Mission: Find the bad boy.”  I began humming the Mission Impossible theme song as I darted through the hallways, checking the back staircase, the library, the cafeteria, and the gym for Breton.

“Day forty-three, continued,” I said in a hushed tone as I peered around a bookcase.  “Re-checking the library.  Something feels a bit fishy.”

I army-crawled past Ms. Scott’s desk.  She wasn’t in today, and apparently no one could substitute.  After checking to see if the coast was clear, I dashed madly towards my corner hideaway.  As I suspected, the door was cracked open.

“The fort has been breached,” I whispered in alarm.  “Checking it out now.”  I crept closer, finally grabbing the handle and peeking into the corner.  

“Empty,” I sighed and stepped inside.  “I thought for sure-“

“Boo!”

“Ah!” I screamed, jumping into the air and whirling around, bringing my hands up to attack position.

“Hey, Georgie,” Breton grinned.

“Aha!  Found you!” I cried triumphantly.

“No, I found you!” he argued.

“I was supposed to be looking for you!” I told him loudly.

“No,” he said, “I was definitely looking for you.”

“Breton, you were the one hiding in my secret fort!  Obviously, I was supposed to be looking for you!” I insisted.

“No, I only came in here because I thought this is where you would be hiding,” he told me.

“Stop telling me no,” I complained.

“Sorry, darling,” he apologized, stepping forward to kiss my forehead.

“Darling?” I inquired.

“What?”  His eyes widened in shock.

“You called me darling,” I teased, delighted by his expression.

“I d-did not,” he stammered.

“Yes, you did,” I said.

“No,” he countered.

“Yes,” I crowed.  “You called me darling!  Breton Joel called me darling!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he claimed, crossing his arms and looking away as his cheeks turned red.

“Aww, he’s blushing!” I sighed.  “That is so adorable.”

He turned to argue with me, but I kissed him before he could say anything.

“No takesies-backsies!” I chirped, backing away.  “You were blushing.”

“If it gets me another kiss, I’ll also admit I called you darling,” he grinned.

“No, no,” I scolded, “bad Breton.”

He pouted, then grinned.  “You’re so beautiful.”

Now I blushed.

“What’s that?” he asked with an exaggerated gasp.  “Is Georgie blushing?”

I scowled, causing him to laugh and hug me close to his side. 

“Alright, no more teasing,” he said.

“Good,” I huffed.

“So, now that we ruined our game of hide-n-seek, how else should we spend our free period?” he wondered as we sat down on the bean bag.  Since there was only one, I had to sit in his lap.