Pitbabes2, Chapter 3 pg2

pg 2

   For me, Babe is the most important thing. That’s why I don’t hesitate to apologize to him. Not because an apology solves every problem, but because it shows him how much I care. Even if I’m not wrong, if it’s not a big deal, I choose to apologize first—at the very least, for making him feel uneasy. Since the first day, I promised him I’d do everything to make him happy, so I have to try my best to keep my word.

   “I won’t let anyone get that close again,” I said, placing my hand on his cheek. The fact that he didn’t swat it away meant I was on the right track. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

   “Why are you so good at making up?” Babe asked softly.

   “I practice a lot.”

   “You saying I’m sulky?”

   “No, I practice by myself.”

   Babe pursed his lips in annoyance, then sat up, dangling his legs off the bed and lightly kicking my shin with his foot, as if he wanted to pick a fight but was afraid of actually hurting me.

   “I’m not seriously mad. Just irritated seeing it,” the sulky one muttered. He met my eyes while still playfully nudging my leg with his foot.

   “Why did this person irritate you? I’ve done shoots like this with other friends before.”

   “I don’t know this guy,” Babe answered bluntly. I love when he’s like this. I think this is where Babe has changed. He doesn’t get sarcastic about everything like he used to. Sure, his stubborn streak is still there, but it’s toned down a lot compared to when we first met. “And he’s cute.”

   “That’s cute?”

   “Well, kinda cute. Like a net idol.”

   “Hm… I didn’t notice.”

   “Hmph, sure you didn’t,” Babe said, his face showing he didn’t buy it. “Someone that good-looking, and you’re saying you didn’t notice?”

   “I really didn’t. Guess he’s not my type.”

   “Oh, if someone’s my type, I’d probably stare like crazy, right?”

   “Yeah, I’d stare,” I said, locking eyes with him, gazing deep into his eyes for a few seconds before slowly scanning the features of his face—his eyes, nose, and mouth. I admired each part deliberately. “Stare to death.”

   What started as Babe’s sarcastic tone shifted as he tried to hold back a smile, his face turning red. The more he reacted like that, the more I wanted to stare even harder, because it’s rare to see Babe genuinely shy like this.

   “Stop it.”

   “Totally my type, this guy.”

   “Charlie, stop,” Babe said in a stern voice, reaching to cover my mouth like he was afraid I’d say something even more embarrassing. “Your mouth, man.”

   “I’m serious,” I said, pulling his hand away and kissing his palm repeatedly. I couldn’t resist lightly nibbling his finger since it was already so close to my mouth—would’ve been a shame to let it go.

   “Bad boy,” Babe said. “You still don’t know my type, huh?”

   “Don’t know,” Babe pretended to be clueless. “Who’d know with you?”

   “I like sexy people,” I said. Since he was playing dumb, I figured it was my duty to make it clear. “Not into soft, squishy types at all. I like pretty faces, hot bodies, great drivers, good at sweet-talking, great at sulking, and especially those with a sharp mouth—top-tier.”

   “We’ve been together who knows how many times, and you’re still flirting with me?”

   “If I don’t flirt, how am I gonna keep you?”

   Babe burst out laughing, his cheeks flushed. It’s weird how he gets shy when I say suggestive, embarrassing things, considering he’s practically a master at it himself. Or maybe it’s because when I say it, it’s more embarrassing? Hmm, might need to think about that angle.

   “I love it when you sweet-talk me,” Babe said, ruffling my hair. He was like a boss proud of his loyal dog’s clever tricks. It might sound odd to say I like it when he’s like this, but that’s not an issue. Nothing between us has ever been normal anyway. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

   “Of sweet-talking Babe?”

   “Yeah, don’t you get tired of me being so demanding?”

   “If I say I’m tired, will you get mad?”

   “Yup.”

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