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A Short Story : A Story?

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"Now Sar--Gwen, my mother said as soon as Ben walked into the room. "I want you to remember not to be out too late tonight; it's a school night, remember. And did you give me Chia's number?" "Yes, moth--aunt Pam, I wrote it on a piece of paper and left it on the kitchen counter, remember?" Are you giving each other space names?" said Ben, "can I be Darth-Ben?" "Scram Benjamen," I said as Ben's eyes went wide as he beheld me in all my glory: waved hair, makeup, heels, clad in the lavender dress Stephanie had given me. Without blinking his eyes, Ben took two steps backward. "Ugh. Here, you know what," I said with a sigh, "give me a hug Ben. I'm sorry I'm always so snappy to you. Just then a smile formed on Ben's freckly face and greedily he raced toward me like a starved puppy." "No stop, I change my mind," I held up both hands, "Don't come any closer." Ben stopped mid-sprint, "I decided I don't want your chest hands feeling up my boobs." "Gwen," said my mother in a disapproving tone. I eyed my mother, what was she Gwen-ing me about? Because I said the word boobs? "Here come here Ben," I said at last, and Ben walked forward like a confused skittish fawn entering an open field, fearing poachers. No, a fawn was too cute to describe Ben, a skittish bear cub was more accurate. As Ben drew near, I pushed out my butt, sunk my chest in, and wrapped my arms around the little squirt's back. I couldn't let him get too much enjoyment out of feeling me up, and I imagined from an outside

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