Fᴏʀ Hɪꜱ Sᴀᴋᴇ | ✔

2| Her First Love

Yes. That's what I am. A boyish-girl. The last time I painted my nails was when my mother had remarried.

Yes, I have a stepfather and a good one at that, so if you were expecting some Cinderella story then you're wrong. He is everything I imagined my actual father to be. He is the only one who lets me wear shirts and pants to my college.

To tell the truth, I actually tried changing my attire a few times. Once I wore a skirt to impress Edward, but he actually laughed at the skirt saying it didn't suit me, for which I banged his head against my desk. I guess my temper takes over my love for him.

Once I wore lipstick and Edward was like, "Did you drink someone's blood on your way to college?" and he actually checked my lips to search for the answer. As for me, I think I hurt his leg pretty bad that day.

Once I actually tried a crop top with heels and earrings and lots of makeup and he actually, I mean really said, "Seriously dude, did you forget that you are not supposed to be wearing girl's stuff?"

Alright, calling me 'dude' was fine but questioning my gender was not something he was about to stay alive for. And so, I lunged at him really bad. And by really bad I mean, breaking his X-ZONE? I suppose I didn't care if I would be having children in our family in future. It was worth it.

I was walking down the street as I remembered all these things, but that is me. Reminiscing about life: that is the only thing that gives me hope. I reached 'Latte coffee', our usual cafe.

Edward was sitting there. He had chosen a corner table, sipping his coffee, deep in thought and I took this opportunity to analyse his looks up and down.

God, I would kill a person and dump their body in the sea to be able to touch those dimples. I was once 18, a time when I actually really wanted to paw at his body, the time when I wanted him really bad, both as a male and as a lover I guess, and I didn't get both.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" he had said smugly. I finally averted my gaze to his face.

I rolled my eyes. "By 'taking a picture', you mean 'take it and put it on the wanted list', right?"

I laughed at my own stupid joke. He knew what I was talking about. When we were nine years old, Edward had been abducted by a gang who kidnapped children to make them beg on the street. He was only abducted for three hours when his father found him, and he was crying horribly as if he had lost his future or something and I had to hug him to sleep for next three weeks.

That's the main reason he hates the police because he thinks they were not competent enough to find him earlier. Typical Edward, I guess.

"That was so not funny!" he retaliated.

"Oh yes, it was not." I laughed out loud. I sneaked my hand in my bag and presented my graduation certificate. I couldn't contain my excitement in.

"Here, guess who got graduated? Me!" I danced like crazy in my chair.

"Really? Wow, I'm so happy. Wait, let me join you!" He got out of his chair and danced along with me. And then I kicked him hard. On his leg. And then I snaked my arm around his neck in a headlock to fake choke him.

"This is for painting meatballs in my pants," I hissed.

"Hey, those were my pants," he said breathlessly.

I tightened my grip.

"Okay, okay, you win," he said, fanning his hand over his face. My grip wasn't even that hard; that drama queen!