For a thirteen year old. This a piece about halfway through the first chapter of one of my stories.
Now, let me tell you something about huge, unfamiliar houses. Never try to navigate through one without a knowledgeable guide. Not only will it save you loads of time, but it will also prevent the dreaded possibility of you getting lost. Which is, unfortunately, what happened to me.
But hey, how was it my fault? There were a lot of doors in there. Quite frankly, you can’t blame a girl for losing her way in a maze like that. I probably could’ve gone back the way I’d came, but I’d sort of forgotten it along the way as I searched through door to door for a bathroom.
So it wasn’t a surprise, honestly, that I ended up slipping into the wrong room. And when I say wrong, I mean really wrong. Unless, of course, bathrooms are meant to look like a tornado had taken a thorough sweeping through the place. Jeez, even my own room wasn’t this messy, and that’s saying something. But the current jumbled state of the bedroom wasn’t really what I was focusing on. Nope. It was the fact that there was a half-naked, athletic body standing right in front of me with his pants half on, half off. Not to mention shirtless.
And I immediately forgot all about my bladder.
It wasn’t that I would’ve minded, really, since that nearly-naked bod happened to be shaped very nicely. I mean, come on, I’m a functioning teenage girl. Of course I notice a guy when he has a killer six pack, like this one. And don’t forget the ’ceps. Yeah. He had some very nice biceps, triceps, wait what else is there? I don’t know. But muscles in general. You know.
So of course when I opened the door, to reveal this scantily clad male specimen, I just sort of stood there, dumbfounded. I don’t even think he noticed me the first second I opened the door. It took me a few moments—I was probably drooling, darn it—of watching him strip (to my conscience’s horror), but I finally realized what had just happened. Then I promptly remembered exactly whose house this was.
And I, like typical me would do in a situation like this, yelped. A bit loudly. “AHHH!” It was bordering on screaming, actually. “OhmygodIamsosososorry!” And being me, it also came out as one, high-pitched word. Oh, how I could thank every higher deity for bestowing me with such eloquence.
Anyway, after he’d turned around and saw me standing there staring at his abdominal muscles, his eyes sort of did this thing where they widened to the size of small tennis balls, nevertheless bringing out their blue irises. Because not only did he have a drool-worthy physique, but he had an attractive face. Your typical Adonis, much to my dismay.
And why am I so dismayed, you ask? It’s simple really. Because after I closed the door, with my eyes probably lying somewhere on the floor in between the door and my dignity, I sighed and said, in something more similar to my normal voice, “Um…sorry, Jace.”
A.k.a., my brother's best friend.
Now, let me tell you something about huge, unfamiliar houses. Never try to navigate through one without a knowledgeable guide. Not only will it save you loads of time, but it will also prevent the dreaded possibility of you getting lost. Which is, unfortunately, what happened to me.
But hey, how was it my fault? There were a lot of doors in there. Quite frankly, you can’t blame a girl for losing her way in a maze like that. I probably could’ve gone back the way I’d came, but I’d sort of forgotten it along the way as I searched through door to door for a bathroom.
So it wasn’t a surprise, honestly, that I ended up slipping into the wrong room. And when I say wrong, I mean really wrong. Unless, of course, bathrooms are meant to look like a tornado had taken a thorough sweeping through the place. Jeez, even my own room wasn’t this messy, and that’s saying something. But the current jumbled state of the bedroom wasn’t really what I was focusing on. Nope. It was the fact that there was a half-naked, athletic body standing right in front of me with his pants half on, half off. Not to mention shirtless.
And I immediately forgot all about my bladder.
It wasn’t that I would’ve minded, really, since that nearly-naked bod happened to be shaped very nicely. I mean, come on, I’m a functioning teenage girl. Of course I notice a guy when he has a killer six pack, like this one. And don’t forget the ’ceps. Yeah. He had some very nice biceps, triceps, wait what else is there? I don’t know. But muscles in general. You know.
So of course when I opened the door, to reveal this scantily clad male specimen, I just sort of stood there, dumbfounded. I don’t even think he noticed me the first second I opened the door. It took me a few moments—I was probably drooling, darn it—of watching him strip (to my conscience’s horror), but I finally realized what had just happened. Then I promptly remembered exactly whose house this was.
And I, like typical me would do in a situation like this, yelped. A bit loudly. “AHHH!” It was bordering on screaming, actually. “OhmygodIamsosososorry!” And being me, it also came out as one, high-pitched word. Oh, how I could thank every higher deity for bestowing me with such eloquence.
Anyway, after he’d turned around and saw me standing there staring at his abdominal muscles, his eyes sort of did this thing where they widened to the size of small tennis balls, nevertheless bringing out their blue irises. Because not only did he have a drool-worthy physique, but he had an attractive face. Your typical Adonis, much to my dismay.
And why am I so dismayed, you ask? It’s simple really. Because after I closed the door, with my eyes probably lying somewhere on the floor in between the door and my dignity, I sighed and said, in something more similar to my normal voice, “Um…sorry, Jace.”
A.k.a., my brother's best friend.