When Miss Sweet Meets Mr. Sour

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Hey, lovelies!

             In celebration of Singles Awareness Day (Valentine’s Day), Sour Patch Kids has commissioned me to write this sour then sweet love story!  It was a blast to create this short story, and Sour Patch Kids happens to be my favorite brand of candy! I was very excited to write this for their #SPKSAD campaign. J

            I encourage you ALL on Wattpad to enter the sour then sweet romance contest by tagging #SPKSADcontest to your own creation of a sour then sweet romance story! Have fun, and get creative!

Check out the Sour Patch Kids’ profile for rules on how to enter!                                                                    - KatRocks247


December 5th was the first day Danny Johnson called me Eggplant.

Let me explain.

My grandma was really into knitting. She was pretty much as blind as someone holding a brick in front of both eyes, yet precisely felt her way through yarn and waving as if it was her own version of braille. Sweaters, scarves, hats, gloves, a dress for my dog, which he only wore once, while he stiffly walked around the house, and looked like a stuffed burrito…

There was even association for completive, elderly knitters, called: “The Old and Slightly Fuzzy Association of Knitting”, and she was the president and founder, of it.

I know. The name slightly disturbed me as well.        

Grandma didn’t play around. And if you so much as called knitting a “hobby”, her nostrils would flare up like an enraged dragon, and let me tell you, nobody wanted to hear Grandma get on one of her usual rants.

Anyway, on my 14th birthday, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Grandma decided to give me a handmade, bold, unflattering, excessively itchy sweater that, I’ll admit now, made my overweight, freshly fourteen-year-old body look like an Eggplant.

The moment I saw the sweater, I was absolutely mortified. ‘Your grandma made it out of love,’ Mom said, as I shot her a death glare and walked backwards out of the house to catch the bus. I stared at her all the way through the front glass door until I was at the center of the driveway, before finally pivoting around and walking normally. 

Believe me, I was contemplating shredding the sweater off my body like an animal, the entire walk down the driveway, and then sacrificing it to the Ugly Sweater gods, by burning it in the trashcan. But I didn’t because I was…unfortunately…. a good person. 

This brings us back to Danny Johnson, a bad person. 

He had always been one head taller than everyone at school, the smartest kid in class, the most athletic, the most attractive, and the wittiest. With dark brown hair and blue eyes that were striking and outlandish, with specs of grey around the iris, every girl in school wanted to belly flop into those orbs of godliness, then swim laps back and forth until they reached the end of their life.

Even at fourteen, Danny was magnificent to look at. I had eyes. He was extremely attractive. I was one of many who were crushing on the boy since pre-k, but I digress. 

From an outside perspective, Danny was a good kid, but he was a mean and bitter fourteen-year old- boy when he wanted to be, and I would learn that on December 5th.

Rumor had it, Danny was bitter because his parents got divorced when he was in sixth grade, his dog and cat died simultaneously in seventh, and in the eighth grade, before he first called me Eggplant, he was suspended from school for giving a boy a wedgie during an assembly.

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