Rain boot(s)
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I held hands with you and jumped into a puddle. You winced as the water soaked through your baggy jeans. I grinned and laughed.

“Not all of us are wearing rain boots, Sam.” you said.
“Rain boot!” I amended with another chuckle. I lifted my left foot and wiggled my toes, enclosed in a filthy, soaking sock.

“Okay, Rain boot” you admitted. “But it's not my fault that you lost your other one, I told you that you shouldn't swim in rain boots.”

“I didn't really think the current would be that strong,” I informed you with a matter-of-factly nod. “Besides, now I have an excuse to mismatch my rain boots.” I said thinking of the polka dotted pair I had sitting in my room at home. They would definitely clash with the rainbow ones I had chosen to wear today.

You smiled and pushed up your thick rimmed glasses. “Mismatched, just like us.” you whispered.

It was a valid point. My clothes rarely matched and my hair was completely fried from frequent, do-it-yourself dye jobs. My shirts were always too long, my skirts were often too short. People don't see a couple when they see us walking together.

“I like us that way,” I told you winking, my false eyelash fell off.

You laughed and I pulled the other one off. “Meh, don't believe adhesive product when it tells you it's waterproof.”

“It's okay,” you promised. “I think you look better this way,”

Sometimes when I was with you, it made me not feel the need for all the make up and colors. But then, where was the fun in that?

You leaned in and kissed my lips, making my face feel hot.