It Started with a Kiss

Chapter 10

"Oh my God! Tara, I think I've found the one." Sarah cried, as she ran towards yet another shop window and pressed her face against the glass, her eyes fixed on the red party dress inside.

"Sarah, we're supposed to be shopping for your mom. Not for you." I groaned, my hands weighed down by a countless number of shopping bags. If I didn't get some decent arm muscles from this, there was going to be hell to pay. For the past three hours, I'd been trailing around after Sarah as she flitted from store to store getting presents for her family and anyone else she could think of, but more often than not buying stuff that only she would like. I gave up hope when she decided to buy her one year old brother a new box of nail varnish. Was I the only person who failed to see the logic in that? Apparently.

To say shopping with my best friend was exhausting was an understatement. But Sarah, as per usual, seemed to have no problem with the fact that we'd bought enough clothes to cater for an orphanage or that I hadn't done this amount of exercise since the time that I'd told coach Sullivan that his 'snood' looked completely ridiculous. In my defense, what guy in their right mind would wear a stupid scarf/hood thing as a fashion accessory? Needless to say, he wasn't impressed with my opinion and I ended up doing laps until I wanted to eject my lungs from my body. Not really the nicest feeling.

"Oh come on it's only one more dress." She told me as she pulled me into the store, making it sound as though it was no big deal.

"We've bought three already! How could you possibly need another dress?" I asked, throwing out my arms laden down with bags as if to emphasise my point. I swear, Sarah had more money than sense. A lot more money than sense. But she just ignored me as she ran into the store and began to search for her size in the dress, before spotting another item of clothing that was 'such a steal' at ten dollars that she just had to try it on. I just shook my head and trailed in after her, mentally face palming myself. Why did I ever agree to such torture?

So there I was, standing in a store I would probably burn if given the opportunity to, while I waited for my friend to try on an overpriced dress, all in the name of fashion. Kill me, just kill me now. I let my eyes wander around the store, looking at the throngs of men and women currently searching through the rails for clothing. As an annoying teeny bopper started blaring through the speakers, I tried to figure out how people considered this fun. Seriously, crowded rooms, recycled air and unnaturally warm surroundings were not what I would have defined as paradise. Thank God I didn't have to work somewhere like here.

As I was pondering all this, my eyes eventually landed on a little boy standing about ten feet away from me. He was wearing a little blue coat and a llama hat and looked incredibly cute. I seriously needed to get me one of those hats. They were simply awesome. His head was currently tilted to the side slightly as he looked in my direction, making me feel self-conscious. Glancing down, I realised nothing horrific had just happened to my body in the last thirty seconds and I looked somewhat okay. Blue T-shirt, black jeans, my favorite tattered white converse, not really all that fascinating to be honest. So why on earth was the kid staring at me? Looking up I now found that his little features had formed a smirk before he stuck his tongue out at me. Oh, this was on.

I don't know about you, but when someone sticks their tongue out at me, there is no way on earth I'm letting that slide. So, having the mental capacity of a four year old I dealt with this in the only way possible. I also stuck out my tongue and made the most ridiculous face possible. Yes I know I'm a dork, I've accepted it and chosen to embrace it, much to the horror of my family and friends.

Anyway, so there I was, standing in a shop I would never dream of setting foot in normally, making funny faces at a little kid wearing an awesome llama hat, having the distinct feeling that something mortifyingly embarrassing was about to ensue on my part. At least I was right about the last bit.