Novel & Cerita Enigmatic Smile

He had to make her pay or else he would not forgive himself. “Okay! And for your information, I am not interested in knowing a rude man like you! Huh!” The woman chuckled mocking him. Eric saw her red lips parted and her white teeth showed up. A nice smile was an understatement. She had a perfect smile. Her smile alone could easily capture someone’s heart. “Stop smiling!” Eric ordered angrily bumping her shoulder on the wall then he released her. He hated her smile. “Why, Mr. rude man? Are you falling for me now?” The Enchantress strode sexily closer to him as Eric took some steps back.

I stood in the middle of the living room, facing the security camera's blinking red light, practicing my smile again and again. Looking into the lens, I spoke softly, like I was leaving a message for the Mom who'd watch it someday. "Mom, look. I practiced the perfect smile again today. "Lift the corners of my mouth fifteen degrees and show eight teeth. The books say that's the most sincere smile. The one that makes people feel warm. "I've practiced so much my face hurts... but that's okay. "When you watch this tomorrow... will you tell me I did a good job? "Will you finally believe I wasn't lying to you?"

She smiles. Then she looks away again, that faraway look still in her eyes, like she’s floating somewhere else entirely. I don’t know if you understand the magnitude of the fact that she smiled at me. And the smile wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t meant to make me angry. It wasn’t a smile I forced her to give me. But it wasn’t exactly a happy smile either. It wasn’t sad. It wasn’t scared. It was… something else. What the hell is going on?

~Elena~ He didn’t move when I shoved him. Not even a little. He just stood there and I swear on every version of reality, the worst part wasn’t that he didn’t flinch—it was that he smiled. A kind of, male smile that starts at the mouth but spreads to the eyes, the kind of smile that says you’re already mine, little girl, whether you realize it or not. “Feisty,” he murmured, like he was tasting the word. “I like that.”

"Not this again?" She rubbed her temple. "It was a business interview." Damian rotated the tablet toward her. The photo. Enola rolled her eyes. "You sound ridiculous." "I sound ridiculous?" "Yes." Damian stood. Slowly. Dangerously. Enola immediately recognized that look. The same look he wore before doing something irrational. Or possessive. Or both. He stopped directly in front of her. Too close. Way too close. "You smiled." Enola stared. "Incredible observation." "You don't smile like that often."

I ask. “You’re smiling.” I huff out a small laugh. “I’m not allowed to?” He tilts his head slightly. “You don’t smile like that for no reason.” Jamie slides a glass toward me. “He’s right. That’s your ‘I’m in my head again’ face.” I take the glass, shaking my head. “I don’t have a face for overthinking.” “You do,” Hanna says, glancing up at me with a small, knowing smile. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

Greg notices me looking at them, and he smiles, “What?” I shake my head, “Nothing.” He looks suspicious, “You’re doing that thing.” “What thing?” “The emotional smile.” I gasp, “I do not have an emotional smile.” He nods seriously, “You do.” I narrow my eyes, “You’re lucky you’re hot and attractive.” He looks delighted, “I know.”

And there was this faint smile on his face that kept appearing and disappearing like he was remembering something amusing. That alone was suspicious, very suspicious. I closed my laptop slowly. “Alright,” I said. Ethan looked up. “What?” I folded my arms. “What’s going on with you?” He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?” I gestured at him. “That.” “That what?” “That smile.” Ethan blinked. “I do not have a smile on my face.” “Oh, you absolutely do, you were even blushing.” He shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

George smiled. The specific, small, completely genuine smile that she had catalogued as her favorite version of all his expressions — the smile that arrived when he was neither performing for an audience nor managing a situation, when he was simply finding something worth smiling about. "She's not going to tell you," he said. "She's going to show you." Julia looked at her daughter. Luna looked back. And smiled. Not the newborn reflexive expression — the specific, genuine, intentional smile of someone who has identified the person they are communicating with and is communicating something specific.

We stayed in silence for a while as I smiled which had Mendy leeching around me like a vulture going for meat. “What is making my lady smile this morning?” I laughed. “Can’t I smile randomly again?” “Smiling doesn’t have a problem. It’s the randomness of the smile that is the problem.” I laughed. “You’re sick. So you’re telling me I can’t just smile on my own without you labeling it something.” “Oh my lady. Forgive me. It’s just the way you just smiled like that that is the issue. Besides, I know the only thing that can make a woman smile like that.”