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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 07, 2016

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Submitted: May 07, 2016



It was warm, the sun
was bright, girls and
boys on the grass enjoying
the midday recess before

afternoon classes. Some
boys lazily kicked a ball
on the field, girls sat in
groups chattering and

laughing. Shoshana sat
with Naaman on the grass
by the tree in its shadow.
She was picking buttercups

between fingers, he watching
her, thinking how nice she
looked sitting there. It's
your fault, she said, looking

at him holding a few buttercups.
What's my fault? He said.
I can't focus in lessons, she
said. How's it my fault? I

didn't ask you to think about
me, he said, but pleased she
did think about him. Can't
help it, I just do, she said,

going red, looking away.
What do you think about
you and me doing? He said.
Not saying, she said. Girls

over the way broke into an
explosion of laughter. Naaman
looked over. Someone is
the meat to chew over, he

said. You're there all the time,
she said, even at home, I see
you around me, even at the
dinner table while having

breakfast this morning.
Wasn't me, I was at home,
having my own breakfast,
he said. You know what I

mean, I felt you there, she said.
Felt me where? He said smiling.
Not like that, in here, in my
heart and head, she said.

Don't you think of me? He
gazed at her. Yes more often
that you'd guess, he said. Really?
She said. Sure, most of the

time, he said. He knew he had;
he'd thought of her that morning
in bed as he woke from a deep
sleep, she there beside him,

naked and warm, her hair
against his cheek. Then Rolland
came walking across the grass
towards him, and stood, and said:

want to come play ball? We
need another player, Brooks
has gut ache, Rolland said.
OK, be there in a minute,

Naaman said. Rolland walked
off. Sorry about that, must go,
see you later, and he walked
away, she watched him go, she

wanted him there beside her,
wanted him to kiss and to stay.

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