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The Immigrant: A Fictional Narrative

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He came back to the apartment while I was in the middle of dancing to “Promise” by Ciara in my living room. At first I didn’t even notice because I was so into it, but then I turned and saw him. He looked upset about something- which is probably why he was back so soon- but he was also staring at me in shock and mild interest. He looked away, face turning red, and that’s when I remembered that I was wearing only my black bra and panties with a see through black robe that probably doesn’t even qualify as a robe. But still I stood there, embarrassed, but also a little pleased that he was embarrassed as well. He brushed past me, making his way to his room. I followed after him. “Liam, what’s wrong?” He didn’t answer, just went in his room and …show more content…

Tonight it’s chicken parmesan. Liam walks up behind me and rests his hands lightly on my hips, peering over my shoulder. “What are you making?” he asked. “Chicken parmesan.” I replied, placing a pan on the stove. I move to get the spices out of the cabinet above my head and he moves with me. I giggle, then try to push him off. “Liam, I’m trying to cook.” “But I wanna watch how you do it,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “If you don’t quit you’re going to watch me put a frying pan to your head,” I joked. “I’ll take that chance; I’ve always been hardheaded.” I give an exasperated sigh and resume getting the spices I need. I feel his hands creep up to my sides and before I can threaten him again he squeezes, causing me to simultaneously squeal and jump, as well as drop my entire container of parsley onto the chicken. “You bitch!” I fussed, slapping at his hands. “Look what you made me do; I just got that yesterday!” “Oh, I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, instantly embarrassed and upset. He backed away. I turned to see him standing there awkwardly with those goddamned puppy eyes peering at me from behind his glasses. I wasn’t really mad at him to begin with, and seeing him look so ashamed about it just made my heart melt. Crossing my arms in mock irritation over my light blue tanktop, I pouted. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, …show more content…

He chased me into the living room, and it wasn’t long before we ended up on opposite sides of my burgundy couch trying to fake each other. I pretended to give up, and walked towards him, running past him at the last minute into his room. He burst in before I could close the door and I flopped onto his bed where he started tickling me. “Liam, quit it!” I protested while laughing and squealing like a five year old, kicking my legs and trying to push him away. He paused to grab my legs and drag me half off the bed; I tried to fight it by grabbing at the comforter, but to no avail. He got on his knees in front of me and resumed tickling me, for now I couldn’t kick him, only jerk around and grab at his hands. “Stop it” I squealed. “Who’s gonna make me?” he smirked as he reached under my tanktop and squeezed a certain way. I gasped sharply and instinctively arched my back as I went from a playful seven year old to the constantly horny twenty-five year old I really am. Liam removed his hands from under my shirt and jerked away as I arched towards him. “Whoa, are you alright?” he asked, the playful look on his face instantly replaced with

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