Blushing Lines Novels & Stories

|Every| I felt goosebumps all over my body. My body felt a hundred degrees hot, as if I was in an oven being baked to death. I felt myself heating up more and more every second, and all those reactions were known with one single word called 'blushing'. It was something I'd never experienced before. I quickly pulled the front part of my t-shirt so it won't stay there, sticking to my body. I saw alpha Grey trying to look everywhere but me.

A thin line of blood appeared almost instantly, bright against his pale skin Her eyes widened as she stared at the cut. The anger that had been driving her disappeared in an instant, like cold water dumped over her head. “Oh my god,” she said, her voice shaking. “I did not mean to…” He backed away, holding his arm. "I am fine," he said curtly to the instructor, who had rushed over. "Just a scratch." Without another word, he walked off toward the locker room The whole class had stopped. All eyes were on them but Lydia could not feel the stares, not really. All she could see was the blood.

52 cm scar from the eyes of this world. Putting on a blusher and contouring her features,were like a child's play for her. "Let the shoot begin"

I touched my face, searching for something I can't see. He started laughing. "What's that for". I asked faking angry. "There is nothing on your face physically, your cheek turns red, you have being blushing hard nowadays". He said, I blushed harder, I looked down in embarrassment. "You don't have to be embarrassed, it is normal for girls to blush when talking to me". He teased. "You are now feeling superior, right". I said rolling my eyes. "Yes I am, I am handsome you know". He bragged.

Or maybe her lips were just more sensitive now. She didn’t close her eyes. She could see that his eyelashes were only two centimeters away from hers. Each eyelash was clearly visible—black, slightly curved, with tips that glowed faintly in the warm light. The patterns on his irises became even more distinct at this distance: dark gray lines stretching across the blue background, like ice fragments floating on water stirred by the wind.

She asked and I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. I don’t need it.” I coughed nervously. “Are you blushing?” She shouted and I opened my mouth. “What are you saying. Blushing? I am not blushing. What could I be blushing for?” I stuttered and she laughed. “You are definitely blushing. Your cheeks are red and you are stuttering. You are also avoiding eye contact.” She said and I laughed. “What’s with you? Who thought you that? I was definitely not blushing. I just felt cold for a minute and I turned red.”

Soft, rhythmic, almost like breathing. I froze. It was coming from me. My pulse quickened as I lifted my arm. Something shimmered faintly against my skin; light moving beneath the surface. I blinked, thinking it was just rain, but it wasn’t raining. The light grew stronger, sharper, red. Three lines began to form along my forearm, glowing crimson, thin as threads. The pain came seconds later…burning, searing, alive. I gasped, clutching my arm. “What…what’s happening…”

he whispered softly but enough to mesmerize the whole me. I could feel my cheeks turn red and heat up. I'm blushing. He's close to me and he's staring too much! "Ugliness. That's being spread all over your face." Dang it?!

Something in my chest that has been in one position for eleven days shifts. "Vienna reported in this morning." He crosses to my desk. Sets down a single printed page with the deliberate care of someone who has thought carefully about how to deliver something. "Prague went dark yesterday. Lisbon haven't responded to three separate messages." He pauses. His voice doesn't change — he's too good for that — but something behind his eyes does. "The degradation pattern is consistent across all five bloodlines. Starts eleven days ago. Simultaneously." Another pause. "To the hour."

Her skin is bare of makeup except for a thin sheen of perspiration from the dancing, and it makes her literally glow, catching the afternoon sun like she's made of something more precious than flesh and bone. Color floods her cheeks immediately. I watch, fascinated, as the blush spreads from the apples of her cheeks upward across her cheekbones, even reaching the delicate tips of her ears which turn a charming shade of pink that reminds me of roses just beginning to open. "Don't," she says. "Don't what?" "Don't talk like that." Her eyes threaten to slide away from mine, but I hold her gaze with the intensity of my own, refusing to let her retreat. "Why not?" "You know why."