3.9
201 Words
"Um, I lost balance." I didn't technically lie, but how am I supposed to explain that without ending up in an all white room?
"You lost balance pretty hard then didn't you?" He chuckled. Thanks for laughing at my pain. I'm glad it entertains you, Agastya.
Still snickering he said, "You're going holding my hand now. Next, you'll be getting a concussion on the way back to a party." He grabbed my hand to help me up and then interlocked our fingers.
His hand didn't feel like I was rubbing my body with a rock, but it wasn't like I was touching a baby's butt. It was just soft.
But now my girly senses are raging. Every little detail is going into my mind now.
'He's touching me. I'm touching him. He has soft hands, my pinkie is half the size of his, that wrinkle under his palm is cute, my nail polish design streak is changing colors, my thumb looks like the size of Mount Rushmo--wait, my nails doing what? It's pink? It was green when I did that!
"Uh, Varnika, you might wanna wa--"
"Ugh!" I stumbled backwards. Great. I ran into her porch light pole. Again, no pain.
- Writer
