𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐈𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐓𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬...𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧.
_______
On your bed the young blonde laid belly down, oddly enjoying 'Happy Tree Friends' as it played on the tv. You sat with your back against the headboard, criss-cross with your computer in your lap as you worked on your English essay. Her fuzzy socks would occasionally graze your leg, luring you out of your concentration.
But it didn't really bother you until she purposely started clicking random keys with her foot. She meets your death glare when she looks over her shoulder. "I'm bored." With an eye roll you spam the 'backspace'. "Are you almost done?" You were close to just sending her home, but who were you kidding...
Shutting your computer you set it aside before falling on your back beside her. "What do you want to do?"
"Talk...We haven't done that in a while."
You study her expression as she twirls a strain of your hair around her finger. The young blonde intentionally avoids your gaze.
"What do you want to talk about?"
She shrugged but clearly had something on her mind. "You seem to be getting pretty serious with Wanda."
You smiled at her name. Making the decision to date the brunette has been the easiest decision of your life. And the way she asked you out was the cutest. Or at least you thought so. She had slipped a cliché note into your locker with the question 'Will you be my girlfriend?' written at the top. At the bottom was:
A. Yes
B. A
C. Kiss Me♡
You had no idea who it was from until you shut your locker, seeing the brunette standing in front of you with a handful of roses. A broad goofy grin on her face. Your first two options weren't suitable for you so with only one left you tugged Wanda in by her sweater.
That was back in November. It was now nearing your 4 month anniversary. Also known as Valentine's day.
"I guess."
"Are you taking her to prom?"
"Who else would I take?"
The young blonde shrugged, her eyes falling to her hands in front of her. And with those few words, Yelena began to recall the night of her junior prom.
The young blonde was sitting on the school steps outside of the gym, her dress soaked in punch after an argument with Liz Toomes. Her face buried in her hands as her tears ruined her makeup. She quickly tried to wipe it away at the sound of heels clacking against the tile.
But it was no use, you pulled her up and into a hug. You hated seeing her like this, hated seeing her sad.
"Can you take me home?" She mumbled and within a few moments you were leading her to your car. She scooted as close as she could to you, nervously chewing on her lower lip. Home was the last place she wanted to be and as if you could read her mind, you turned down the road which led away from your neighboring houses.
