Читать книгу The Barkuu - Lauren Wright - Страница 14

Macie put her hand on her heart; it was still racing. She had been lying there for hours trying to sleep, but couldn't stop thinking about the boy with the blue teeth.

She had been part of the choreographed group dance, wearing a beautiful ornamental red dress and painted all in the deep red of passion, something for which the Brazilians are well known.

When their eyes met, she had immediately fallen out of step, the life stripped from her movements. He was a handsome and striking young man with a strong jawline leading into a well-defined chin. He was surely going to be a handsome man.

He was in soccer shorts and flip-flops, his muscular body covered in lucent colors of orange, green, and blue. The moment their locked eyes, he stopped, completely unaware his friend that had been chasing him was closing fast.

His beautiful eyes had captured her attention as effectively as an elephant dancing on teacups. She couldn't look away, didn't want to look away, for fear the moment would end, and she would be left in a world without him.

For a time, the wonder was replaced by dread; she needed him. After what seemed like ten minutes of staring, his friend only a few steps away finally reached him.

The blue paint exploded in his face, his big smile displaying two rows of large blue teeth, it made her giggle. Seconds later the remainder of the choreographed dancers found Macie out of sync, and they toppled about.

Flashes of colorful dresses comically tossed in the air, reminiscent of childhood cartoons. By the time Macie got to her feet, her muse had disappeared.

Macie had never really been into boys before, chalking up all the stories of love to childish stories told to hopeless girls. She would not be persuaded, but in an instant, her mind was changed.

It was all real, so very real and so much more intense and confusing than she had been told. She was simultaneously filled with hope, desire, and panic; every square inch of her body surged with energy.

Just when she felt it might be overwhelming, it changed back to fear; she might not ever see the boy again. She was filled with a desperate need to see him, a burning desire to touch him, to see those beautiful eyes again.

She had butterflies as she thought about staring into those eyes, and then more dread. She was experiencing a complex array of emotions, sloshing around like water in a bucket.

Her heart raced more; her breathing turned sporadic; she wanted to throw up. How does anyone sleep on this stuff?