Charming's Star

By @L-R-Battista
Charming's Star

This is the story of Delilah Letters, a nineteen-year-old college student. She aspires to be a screenwriter or director and dive into her imaginary worlds. However, life has other plans. After all, nothing really goes as planned. This is a short story right now, but it might become a long story. I know the description is vague but give it a chance. Hope you enjoy, L-R-Battista Side Note: I do not own the cover, it belongs to its rightful owner whom, I thank for creating such beautiful art.

Chapter 20

Dang Those Puppy Dog Eyes

The game lasted maybe an hour or so. Both of them slightly tipsy and stumbling into anything and everything. Then Dereck asked if it would be ok if he and Sarah danced for a little bit and of course, I said yes. Who was I to say no anyway? I watched them dance together, marveling at how good they fit together, even their bodies.

A couple of guys asked me to dance but I declined each one because;

1. Most of them were drunk

2. They had a creepy demeanor about them

3. Some were at least in their late thirties. ( Not that They all had beer guts and beards with gray hair but still too old. Not that I judge a person simply on looks but they were honestly way too old for me in every aspect.) 

And 

4. I couldn\’t dance to save my life.

So I guess it\’s a good thing I don\’t need to know how to dance in order to live. 

Eventually, I grabbed a chocolate- chip cookie and my half-finished soda and decided to look around the place. I went down the left hallway from the kitchen and away from the living room/dance floor. I found a bathroom first where I made a pit stop to change into my bathing suit (I decided I was going to go swimming after all since it was probably empty). 

I continued down the hallway and found a huge game room were guys were facing on Grand Theft Auto, Air Hockey, and Ping Pong, then I passed a bunch of locked doors with moaning inside them until I reached the indoor pool. A pool that resembled more of a spa with detailed wave tiles tracing the bottom and plush lawn chairs lounging around a dolphin shaped pool. And I had it all to myself because I was alone.

     \”My grandmother\’s favorite animal is a dolphin. She designed the pool,\” a familiar deep voice informed me from behind.

     \”Wow, it\’s beautiful,\” I murmured walking closer to the edge of the pool. Dang it, I thought I was alone. Now someone is going to see me in this scandalous bathing suit. And of course, it had to be Ryan. Just my luck. 

     \”Well, my grandmother is one of the finest artists,\” he replied.

I turned around to look at him. At first, I couldn\’t breathe. Ryan was just that attractive (just my luck) and he was simply wearing dark blue swim trunks and a form fitted shirt in which his six pack shown through. His hair was as tousled as always, his eyes ever brighter in the dim lighting in the pool.

    \”What are you doing here?\” I asked, breaking the silence.

   \”Well, this is my house,\” Ryan chuckled, giving me a cheeky smile.

   \”That\’s not what I meant! why are you here with me in this empty pool room and not partying with the rest of the people here?\” I exclaimed.

    \”I could ask you the same question,\” he replied.

    \”Well, I asked first,\” I argued.

   \”And I asked second, why does it matter who asked the question first?\” he countered.

   \”Your avoiding the question!\” I complained, sitting down at the edge of the pool.

   \”So are you,\” he teased, coming and sitting beside me.

I stared at our bare feet dangling in the water, amazed at our similarities and differences. 

Often, I looked at our differences. The big feet, the athletic build, the perfect smile, best player, charismatic personality, and so on. But I never realized our similarities. We both had feet, for example. An obvious fact but there was something more than that; something that made us the same. We were both human. Therefore, we were equals. There was no reason I should be intimidated by him nor should he be by me.

   \”Fine,\” I sighed, giving in.

   Ryan smirked at me and I shot a pair of daggers but I continued;

    \”I am not much of drinking and dancing person. I can\’t stand the taste of alcohol and can\’t dance to save my life. Also, I came with my friends but I lost them to the wild beast of the party,\”

    \”What kind of alcohol did you try?\” he asked,

    \”Umm… a bunch. Mike\’s Lemonade, Corona Light, Bud Light, Yuengling, Blue Moon, Busch, Fireball,\” I listed off with my fingers.

    Ryan let out a low whistle, \”Wow, you tried a bunch. You didn\’t like any of them?\”

    \”Nope, Notta, None,\” I responded.

    \”Have you tried any mixed drinks?\” he questioned.

    I shook my head.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, as if they had a life of its own and his face twitched. Then his eyes widened, the look you get when an idea pops into your head, sort of like that lightbulb moment in the cartoons.

    \”I think I have the right drink for you,\” he shouted, a mischievous look in his eyes.

    \”Unless, it\’s a virgin Shirley temple, I don\’t want to try it,\” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

    \”C\’mon Delilah, live a little,\” he pleaded, giving a cute puppy-look.

     \”Stop it,\” I demanded. I hated when people did the puppy dog look on me. I could never resist it.

     \”Stop what?\” he asked, puckering his lips more, tears forming in his eyes, making them appear bluer.

    \”Stop giving me the puppy dog face!\” I demanded.

    \”Then say yes,\” he pouted, giving me another adorable look.

    \”No,\” I stated.

Tears welded in his eyes and instantly I felt guilty. Sure, I am not thrilled of alcohol but do I seriously need to make someone cry because I don\’t want to try it?

   \”Fine, I\’ll try it,\” I sighed.

   Ryan\’s face lit up and he jumped up, sprinting to the French doors.

   \”You won\’t regret this Lia! I promise,\” he shouted.

   \”I better not!\” I called back, placing my head in my hands.

******* puppy-dog looks. *******, cute boys. *******, my soft heart.

A few minutes later, Ryan returned with a blender, a pitcher, a gallon of ice cream, chocolate sauce, an Irish Bailey, a bottle of vodka, Cranberry Juice, grenadine, sprite, and I think a few bags of margarita mix and that was just some of it. (How did he carry this, you ask? He had a whole cart with a cooler and was rolling it over.)

    I gasped, my mouth wider than a black-hole.

\”I thinka spider might crawl in your mouth and make a nest there if you don\’t close it,\” Ryan teased. 

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