Little Miss Filmmaker

crestas:

“I’ll have you know I’m a model son,” said James, faux indignant.

“So sneaking out to a protest and getting kind-of arrested isn’t the norm?”

“It’s my mates: you’re a bad influence on me.”

Lily actually laughed at that. “Oh, I’m a bad influence, am I?”

“Rubbish,” said James solemnly. “Most of the trouble I got into when I was younger was on your behalf.”

“Loads of good it did you.”

“There was method to my madness… it just wasn’t the greatest method.”

“You might have tried just being nice,” said Lily, blushing a little—she hoped James didn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t comment.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

The fun, indeed. Somewhat melodramatically, perhaps, Lily reflected that without the fun of it, there was an excellent chance that James would not have chased her at all. And, certainly, when the fun was sufficiently depleted, he’d found the girl who more or less held the patent on fun. She’d been quiet for several seconds, and it was uncomfortable again. She panicked slightly at this realization (was she being horribly obvious?), which only kept her quiet longer, until she could think of nothing else to say except: “You dropped a pumpkin.”

James caught the unsubtle change of subject. “Yeah, I reckon I should clean that up.” He rose to do so, and Lily took the little reprieve of attention to collect herself.

Flirting.

She’d been flirting with him.

Bloody Shelley Boat.

-The Life and Times [X]