Me Too: A Short Story

 She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well. 

It was an unfortunate nervous tick of hers–incessant laughter. She’d had it since she was a child. When she was nervous, she laughed. Scared. She laughed. Angry. She laughed. She even laughed when she as sad. Her round of giggles at her grandmother’s funeral had her ushered out of the wake and into the parking lot.

Sure, she laughed like most people, when most people laughed, but when she was undeniably embarrassed, she laughed non-stop with horrifying honks and snorts. She didn’t know if he was laughing with her, for nervous sake, or if her mortifying animal sounds were causing him to laugh at her.

But what if he was laughing out of pity, laughing because of what she’d said? The thought made her choke and pressed tears from her eyes. They tumbled down her cheeks into the chlorinated water between them. She pressed her eyes closed, too afraid to look at him anymore, even as red embarrassment crept up her neck and face.

She heard his laughter die, felt it really, and with the loss of its timber, she felt her stomach fall even more. As best she could, she suppressed the giggling that tickled her throat and covered her face with her hands. More tears pressed against the backs of her lids and for mercy’s sake, she prayed her palms would keep them hidden.

Her breath caught when she felt his fingers gently pulling against hers. She nearly fainted when she felt his lips claim hers with a sweetness that rivaled honey.

The tingle of his breath swirling in her ear caused her laughter to cease altogether and a smile to shape her lips.

“Me too,” he’d whispered. “I love you too.”

THE END

*I so enjoyed seeing this tale unfold. Romance, who doesn’t love the sweetness of love? These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt April 2nd, 2018.

 

 

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