COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
There was no stopping my giggles as I jumped straight on my bed after I finished taking a bath. I was flat on my stomach as I readied myself to get lost on the list of birthday presents for Lance.
It was weeks since Leanna got out of the hospital, and her family went back in their own country, but it did not stop me from asking our spies for information about him.
It turned out that this Friday, four days from now, it was Lance’s thirteenth birthday. I asked Leanna a while back about the things Lance likes.
No one knows better than family.
I was excited thinking about all the things to give him –– even more excited than finding a new snack that I could not stop humming as I browse the net.
I already filed a leave from school on Friday because I was thinking of personally hand my gift to him. I did not tell anyone about my plans. If my family knew about it, I would never hear the end of it.
I know it is unladylike, but I cannot help myself!
I did not even know I could act this way towards a guy and a kid at that!
“Hmmm . . .”
I wanted to buy him a car, but he was not old enough to drive.
“Then maybe a watch . . . wait . . . this perfume is also nice . . . Shoes . . . ?”
My lips purse in dissatisfaction. All of this did not strike the heart.
It is not special at all!
I searched on how to make a gift special. I blinked before my whole body burned red.
All of this is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old boy!
Then a site caught my attention.
“Do it yourself . . .”
There were many things on the site that was easy to make, be it for personal use, selling, or a gift. It even had step by step instructions.
I wanted it to be meaningful, reminding him of me whenever he looked at it. I also wanted it to be small and handy so that he could carry it with him all the time.
My eyes shone when I scrolled down and found what I was looking for.
This is perfect!
I lost track of how many times I swallowed the nervousness down my system.
I already prepared myself for this and had practiced my acting and dialogue long before.
I also collected the information from our spy network about the details and outlines of his birthday.
I have memorized it all.
I could not help myself. My feelings were too overwhelming to control!
I want him mine!
It was dusk and the birthday party would start at seven. There were already lines and lines of cars parked on the side of the road. The majestic gates stood open, welcoming the pouring guests with a lot of teenagers coming in.
Must be his schoolmates.
The boys dress in formal clothes while the girls dress to impress.
I peek at my simple buttermilk colored sundress exposing the line of my collarbone and the cleavage of my breasts. The fabric hugged my body, molding my every curve. It was the right balance in sexiness and modesty.
The above the knee dress flaunted the length of my legs while the flat coconut tinted open-toe pump shoes blended with my skin. I did not usually wear flats, but since the man I like was shorter than me, I had to compromise.
Although I love snacks and ate them all the time, I maintained my figure due to my mother’s constant nagging. Saying a lady should always be pleasing to the eyes and always presentable and in control of their body.
To shut her up, I was forced to exercise to maintain my figure, and she never complained about me overeating snacks again.
I ignored all the stares and praises thrown at me. Some even tried to grab my attention by pretending to huddle with other men near where I stood as they checked me out.
I turned to the voice and was surprised to see Zoe in her red oxford top paired with skinny jeans and sneakers.
. . .
. . .
I felt overdressed . . .
“What’re you doing here? Wait, don’t tell me. I already know why.” Zoe grinned and seized my hand without my consent.
“It’s a good thing you’re also here. I don’t have to feel embarrassed about going in alone.”
“Uhmm . . . ,” I hesitated. “I’m not . . . invited.”
“So am I. Let’s go.”
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