Warmth Smile Novels & Stories

The warmth of his grip is solid, almost protective — like he’s daring the world to challenge us. My heart gives a startled thump. And then I see it — that smile. Sweet. Disarming. Dangerous. God… it’s the kind of smile that tastes like honey and melts the frost right off your bones. The hallway still hums with hushed gossip, but it’s as though Baekhoon’s hand is a shield between me and them. The knot of anxiety in my chest loosens, just a little. That simple touch, paired with his quiet reassurance, is enough to tilt the mood inside me.

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend. Yes, you can take care of us. Yes, Adam. Yes." The smile that broke across his face was not the thin, self-deprecating smile of the past week. It was not the controlled, professional smile of the CEO or the polite, distant smile of the man at the reception in Zurich. It was a real smile — wide and unguarded and almost painful in its intensity. The smile of a man who had been holding his breath for a decade and had finally been allowed to exhale.

“Soft, warm, and radiant.” Rolling my eyes good-naturedly, I playfully punched him on the arm, feigning annoyance. “Stop teasing me,” I retorted, but my tone couldn't hide the giddiness brimming within me. His words had ignited a warmth in my chest that spread joyfully through my veins.

“What do you want, Isaac?” His smile widened. “That depends. What do you want?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I let the warmth at my fingertips pulse outward. Just enough to make the air shimmer in front of me, like a heat wave rolling off the rocks. Isaac’s smile twitched. He saw it and flinched, but he didn’t back off. He stepped forward, slowly, hands in his pockets like he was just out for a chat. “You’re not very friendly, you know.”

I don't have friends - I am not sure if that is something that I should be proud of. Well, it's not like I don't try to approach my classmates or try to interact. It’s just that I have a weird smile. No, it's not the type of smile that involves weird and rotten teeth - I have perfectly white and straight teeth. You see, my smile is fatal and dangerous. Just one look at these weapons and even the ferocious growl of a mountain lion would seem harmless. If this were a comic, I would call this attack: The Killer Smile.

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?"

He smiles softly. We move to a secluded corner of the terrace, where there is a beautiful cozy setup. Soft cushions and warm blankets surround a flickering fire pit. Liam pulls me next to him as he sits with a beautiful smile plastered on his gorgeous face. The warmth of the fire casts a gentle glow on our faces.

A smile tugged at the corner of Zain’s lips and even though he would be experiencing one of the worst kinds of pains known to any werewolf in a matter of minutes, his midnight blue eyes were the warmest I had ever seen them today and I died a silent death, knowing that that warmth would be gone soon. However, I smiled at him, hoping that the small gesture would comfort him in a way that my words didn’t know how to. Zain smiled back. “Fine. I like it better when you win, anyways.” “Me too,” I whispered, ignoring the new-found warmth that settled in my belly.

I watch him for a moment from across the room. He does not know I am watching. And his face, his very careful usually managed face, is doing something I have no word for except to say it is warm. Genuinely, quietly, entirely warm. Like pride, but softer than that. Like the specific feeling of watching someone you care about do something they are extraordinary at and knowing it, and being glad. He turns and sees me. And he smiles. Not the polished gala smile. Not the careful professional one. The real one. The small certain one I have been cataloguing since approximately month two, the one that only comes out when there is no camera and no audience and nothing to perform.

Anderson's mother smiled at him before caressing his face. "Thanks, Mom." Anderson smiled at his mother. She really is the best, he thought. "If you get hungry, there's food on the table." Stella kissed her son's forehead and said goodbye. She needs to go to work. Anderson went to the kitchen and checked the food. After seeing what his mother cooked lunch, Anderson smiled widely. His mother is the only woman who would never hurt him. ------