Page 16 of Where We Promise

Jameson’s eyes lingered on my face, trailing over every detail, freezing on my lips.

With a nod, he leaned even closer. “What happened to Penny from last year who picked wildflowers, wore ripped jeans and always had that hair back in a braid?”

“You mean the one who tripped over herself to get your attention?”

His lips quirked, but his gaze remained fixed on mine. The teacher walked in and started discussing the reading from over the weekend. Jameson’s gaze didn’t move and mine didn’t either.

Then within a single breath, he whispered, “yeah…what happened to her?”

His eyes seemed to sparkle with laughter as we both ignored the teacher and continued staring. Who was this kid, where was shy Jameson? Or was this some plot to create chaos. Was I a tool of some kind to him?

When I had ignored his question for at least fifteen minutes and started on the lesson, I finally replied, “She got tired of being ignored.”

I stared ahead, ignoring how Jameson’s gaze lingered on my face and how his pencil drifted over to my shoulder, lifting that damn curl again.

FIVE

PENELOPE

PRESENT DAY

Natty arrived in similar fashion as a woodland princess. She had flowers threaded through her braids, and a soft dress that looked like it was from a cosplay or Renaissance fair. She was beautiful and happy…and it was infectious.

“Hey Pen, I need your help!”

I liked that she didn’t seem to want to coddle me or babysit me. She seemed genuine in wanting to see me.

I had enough time to wash my face and change my clothes, so I felt refreshed.

“Hi Natty, what—” Natty was unpacking something over by the couch.

Wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with my denim jeans, I held my stomach as I made my way over to her.

“What are you doing?”

Natty smiled up at me. “I made these for you.”

She pulled out several crocheted stuffed animals…wait, “are those—penises?”

Natty paused, staring down at her multicolored plushies.

“They’re not—they’re squids. Like little squids…I thought they would be cute for your little guy.”

I stroked a hand down the expanse of my stomach as a smile curled my lips.

Natty gripped a small stuffed item, tilting it in her hand—examining it.

“Does it really look like a penis?”

With a snort, I nodded. “How do you not see it—the long shaft…”

“That’s the body!”

“The bulbous tip.” I squeezed the top of the squishy.

Natty’s face turned red. “That’s the head, they’re eyes!”

Her outrage only made me laugh harder.

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