Ashlan.
10.
“Yeh know, Olleh thinks yeh ‘ate ‘im,” Suzan said, casually picking at her chipping nail polish. My grand-mère raised an eyebrow curiously at me.
Suzan had joined my grand-mère, mom and I for dinner randomly the day after my little outburst. I hadn’t walked that far before Curtis offered to take me home. I had ended up heading the wrong way again.
“Who’s Oli?” my mom asked. She had to know who everyone was; she was just that annoying, but I love her for it.
“One of Mathew’s friends,” I told her, continuing to break pieces of lettuce into a bowl. “Should I be concerned that he thinks that?”
“I guess not. Jus’ wanted teh let yeh know, ‘s all,” Suzan replied, helping my grandmother cut things for the salad.
//
I never really noticed before, but now as I’m telling Oliver that I don’t hate him, I really notice just how amazing his eyes are.
They seemed to change from a dark hazel color, to brown, and I could feel myself slowly getting lost in them as I tried to remember to talk at the same time.
“Uh…yeah. I really don’t hate you; I was just getting really annoyed,” I said, trying my hardest not to stumble over my words.
“Oh…alrigh’,” he replied awkwardly, his marvelous eyes shifting nervously between my own plain brown ones.
I remember when my grand-père was still alive, he’d always say: “Wanna know why your eyes are brown? It’s ‘cause you’re full of shit.” He was always joking when he said that though, but just the way that he said it would always get a laugh out of all of us.
“So…‘ow are yeh?” he asked, trying to release us from the awkward tension that had settled around us.
“Good…you?” I questioned. It was around this time that I wished someone – anyone – would walk in.
“Good, good.” He nodded.
From then on, it was mostly silent between us. I wanted to get up and leave, but that was too impolite. I was guessing he didn’t want to be rude either because he was still standing awkwardly in the corner. Every once in a while he would tousle his dark hair, scratch at his tattooed neck, or rub at the back of his neck. At least 10 minutes had passed by now.
“Are yeh really uncomfortable, or is it jus’ meh?” he asked, chuckling awkwardly. I let out an almost inaudible giggle while nodding my head. He seemed to have heard me, ‘cause he smiled brightly at me.
I noticed that he bared all his teeth when he really smiled, unlike when he smirked.
“I think tha’s the firs’ time I heard yeh laugh. I like it.”
Suzan had joined my grand-mère, mom and I for dinner randomly the day after my little outburst. I hadn’t walked that far before Curtis offered to take me home. I had ended up heading the wrong way again.
“Who’s Oli?” my mom asked. She had to know who everyone was; she was just that annoying, but I love her for it.
“One of Mathew’s friends,” I told her, continuing to break pieces of lettuce into a bowl. “Should I be concerned that he thinks that?”
“I guess not. Jus’ wanted teh let yeh know, ‘s all,” Suzan replied, helping my grandmother cut things for the salad.
//
I never really noticed before, but now as I’m telling Oliver that I don’t hate him, I really notice just how amazing his eyes are.
They seemed to change from a dark hazel color, to brown, and I could feel myself slowly getting lost in them as I tried to remember to talk at the same time.
“Uh…yeah. I really don’t hate you; I was just getting really annoyed,” I said, trying my hardest not to stumble over my words.
“Oh…alrigh’,” he replied awkwardly, his marvelous eyes shifting nervously between my own plain brown ones.
I remember when my grand-père was still alive, he’d always say: “Wanna know why your eyes are brown? It’s ‘cause you’re full of shit.” He was always joking when he said that though, but just the way that he said it would always get a laugh out of all of us.
“So…‘ow are yeh?” he asked, trying to release us from the awkward tension that had settled around us.
“Good…you?” I questioned. It was around this time that I wished someone – anyone – would walk in.
“Good, good.” He nodded.
From then on, it was mostly silent between us. I wanted to get up and leave, but that was too impolite. I was guessing he didn’t want to be rude either because he was still standing awkwardly in the corner. Every once in a while he would tousle his dark hair, scratch at his tattooed neck, or rub at the back of his neck. At least 10 minutes had passed by now.
“Are yeh really uncomfortable, or is it jus’ meh?” he asked, chuckling awkwardly. I let out an almost inaudible giggle while nodding my head. He seemed to have heard me, ‘cause he smiled brightly at me.
I noticed that he bared all his teeth when he really smiled, unlike when he smirked.
“I think tha’s the firs’ time I heard yeh laugh. I like it.”
♠ ♠ ♠
so i thought i'd update today, 'cause i'm in a good mood 'cause todays my sister's birthday, and i love her =].but yeah, my best friend's dad always says “wanna know why your eyes are brown? It’s ‘cause you’re full of shit” and other things along that line to me whenever he doesn't believe me =].