I stood outside of a small house and knocked on the front door. A warm summer breeze caressed my skin, causing my hair to fly into my face. I pushed the strands back and tucked them behind my ear. Knocking again, I wondered if anyone was home. They’d said they would be, so I was beginning to worry.
As I raised my hand to knock for a third time, the sound of footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. They were followed by a thud and a feminine voice cursing. I chuckled softly, not being able to help myself. Honestly, I loved the girl, but walking most of the time was a challenge for her. She liked to say she was so clumsy that she was practically disabled.
A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing my best friend. Even with her clumsiness, she was one of the most loyal people I knew. She didn’t trust easily, but when you earned it, she would fight for you to the end. At the same time, though, she was shy and would blush at the drop of a hat. She was awkward around new people, but if push came to shove, her protective nature would override her bashfulness.
The one thing that drove me absolutely bat shit crazy, though, was her extreme insecurity. I had never understood her self-doubting, because she was gorgeous. She hid her figure behind grandma clothes—I told her she would be a fox if she’d lose them—but she would always brush me off and say I was crazy. One day, I vowed, I was going to get her to say she was beautiful.
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