Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland 3)

“That’s all the effort I need,” I replied, then blushed, realising I was staring at her tits, but it was really hard not to when she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were poking through the sheer material. Fuck, I’d turned into one of those creeps.

“You look good too.” She laughed, thankfully not taking offense at my ogling. “Smiling suits you.”

“I have a lot to smile about these days.”

I had one thing to smile about, but she didn’t need to know about the rest of the bullshit going on.

“Are you coming in? I’m alone. Are you gonna be okay with that?” She waggled her eyebrows and I fought the urge to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and run straight to her room.

“I think I’ll survive,” I answered, stepping into her hallway and shutting the door behind me.

She went to walk towards her living room, but I stopped her by grabbing her arm and asked, “Can we go to your room? Only, there’s something I want to give to you, and I don’t want to run the risk of your parents coming home and seeing.”

She frowned playfully, and then walked back towards me.

“Okay. Should I be worried? Are you going to show me your etchings?” She giggled to herself.

“Something like that.”

She started to walk up the stairs and I jumped up after her, like a lovesick puppy. I’d spent all night on this gift, and I really didn’t want to fuck it up.

When we got to her room, she locked the door behind us and I sat down in the same spot on the bed that I’d sat in last time.

“So…” She plonked herself down into the space next to me. “What’s up?”

“I have something else for your memory box.”

Instantly, she lit up like a kid at Christmas with her eyes going wide and sparkling. “I love that! What have you got?” Her body swivelled round to face mine, and she clapped her hands excitedly.

“After I saw your cards, the Valentine’s ones, I kind of felt bad. So, I made you these.”

I pulled out the stack of cards I had hidden in the front pocket of my hoody and passed them to her.

“What is this?” she asked, turning the pile over in her hands.

“You need to open them in order.” I grabbed the pile and turned them back around. “They’re my Valentine’s cards to you. Eighteen of them.”

“Eighteen?”

“Yes. One for each year you’ve been alive.”

She sighed when I said that, and I knew I was onto a winner.

“Where did you find eighteen different Valentine’s cards to buy in November?”

“I didn’t. I made them myself.”

“Of course you did.” She shook her head and laughed.

I watched as she placed them in her lap and started to open the first one. Then she stopped, and with an apprehensive look on her face, she said, “Is it okay for me to open them now? In front of you, I mean?”

“That’s why I brought them. If I didn’t want to watch, I’d have posted them through the door and done a runner.” She knew what I was saying was the truth.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she replied, and a small contented smile spread across her face and warmed her eyes.

I was glad too. Being here and seeing how this affected her was better than any high. My body was tingling with the anticipation and my head was fuzzy with a feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Was this what love felt like?

She opened the first envelope and her bro