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Post by roscoe hoberman on May 8, 2009 22:35:13 GMT -5
 I KEPT FALLING OVER
[/COLOR][/FONT] I KEPT LOOKING BACKWARDS[/FONT] I WENT BROKE BELIEVEING THE SIMPLE SHOULD BE HARD[/COLOR][/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Roscoe hated coffee, but man did he love the smell. The drink was disgusting and habit forming, but he got his tea at The Beanery a few times a week anyway. It was cheaper at the school cafeteria. But this way, he not only got to wander through the city a bit, but he could hang out in the trendy cafe and enjoy the smell. It sounded weird, even to himself. But there was something very soothing about the scent, something he couldn’t place. Besides, they made really good tea.
It was three in the afternoon on a Tuesday; not exactly a typical peak coffee-buying time. Yet, as ever, the place was packed. There were already four or five individuals on line in front of the counter as the bell tinkled, admitting Roscoe into the cramped space. The door fell shut behind him as he shuffled to the end of the line, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He hadn’t felt like grabbing his wallet, so his right hand found a few loose bills deep within the pocket.
He had just gotten out of classes for the day. His last class had been AP Environmental, and oh, had the time dragged on. In science especially, time seemed to move painfully slow. Five minutes seemed like an hour when he sat in the front row of that class room, scrawling notes faster than his brain could keep time, faster than he could process what the teacher was saying before writing it down in his blue spiral notebook.
The only way he could get through fifty-five minutes of torture was if he had something to look forward to afterwards. And on most ever Tuesday, that something was his semi-weekly stop at The Beanery. He had already wandered around a bit on his way here; he could meander like no other. The place wasn’t all that far from Stewart, but school had been over half an hour when he pushed through the door. And now he stood on line, waiting ever so patiently.
It was about fifteen minutes later when Roscoe found himself at the front of the line. He pulled his hands from his pockets slowly, running one through his dark locks before ordering. “A small chai tea, please,” he requested, his voice quieter than he had expected it to be. He cleared his throat discreetly as the woman behind the counter gave his order to another barista before punching a few buttons on the register. Roscoe counted out the bills as she told him the price and held them out to her, moving to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink before she had a chance to give him his change back.
The drink appeared on the counter rather quickly. He took it appreciatively and turned, wondering where he should go now. He could wander around a bit, but he had always liked the ambiance here. And, just his luck – there was only one empty table left! The tables were round, each encircled by two or three wooden, padded, straight-backed chairs. The last table had only two seats, opposite each other across the table. Smiling softly to himself, Roscoe walked slowly over. He set his drink on the table and sat down in one of the two empty chairs, shifting his position for a few moments as he settled into the seat. His back was to most of the action in the shop; instead, he was facing the window. Roscoe leaned back in the chair, blowing through the opening in the lid of his drink once or twice before taking a cautious sip. Perfect.
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POST STATUS:[/COLOR] COMPLETE LIKE WOAH. TEMPLATE CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] SYDKNEE SAYS!BANNER CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] THE AMAZING ALYSSA ! LYRICS CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] ALL WE ARE MATT NATHANSON ROLEPLAYING WITH:[/COLOR] ANASTASIYA (ALYSSA) WHERE WE AT?:[/COLOR] THE BEANERY. WORD COUNT:[/COLOR] 608 ! LOOKING LIKE:[/COLOR] PANTS SHIRT JACKET SHOESNOTES:[/COLOR] BLAH BLAH BLAH. =] [/FONT] [/center] [/BLOCKQUOTE][/size] |
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Post by anastasiya ivanov on May 9, 2009 0:04:31 GMT -5
 when all the colors
will bleed into one
bleed into one • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • [/CENTER] Coffee and math were the two vilest things imaginable, at least in Anastasiya’s opinion. One was addicting and the other was the complete opposite. It was surprising that Ana was absolutely atrocious at math, what with the way she identified patterns and sequences. Sciences and languages were always her strong points, because each had rules that she could clearly outline and follow ; yet math, the subject with the most rules of them all, failed to grasp her attention. She always found herself nodding off in the middle of class, simply because none of the content taught served any real-life purpose to her. When was she ever going to find the measurement of two angles, or the length of the side opposite a hypotenuse? Never, that was for sure. She wasn’t going to be an engineer, nor was she going to be the next Albert Einstein. All in all, higher-level math was completely useless to her. She could count, and she had a brain. That was as much math knowledge as she needed to know in the real world.
Still, math today had been exhausting. They’d taken a test on derivatives, and, though finding the derivative itself was a piece of cake, Anastasiya encountered trouble applying that knowledge. For the majority of the fifty-five minutes, Ana had wasted time wondering why on earth she’d chosen to take AP Calculus as a junior. Clearly, math wasn’t her strongest subject, and clearly, if she ever met a particle travelling across a straight path, she would not be able to calculate when it reached its maximum height and when it was falling. After running herself in circles, haphazardly writing incoherent answers on the answer sheet, and turning in her paper, Ana was clearly frustrated. She was absolutely atrocious at math, and she had to work and work to maintain her B- average in the class while smarter kids had As handed to them on a silver platter. Who was the nuisance who created math and where could she find him? Revenge was the only obvious remedy to her woes.
Well, revenge and The Beanery. For some reason, she found the small café soothing at any time of day. Oftentimes she’d finished a long English paper and craved the gentle atmosphere the small shop offered. She’d make the ten-minute walk down from Stewart only to find the shop closed, its cream-colored coffee cup dim and unlit, hanging like a weight above her. She’d sulk back to her dorm, carefully brew a pot of bland coffee, and sit in silence, staring out at the Pittsburgh horizon. Listening to her roommate snore and the prickling hum of the air conditioning unit had never been very soothing to Anastasiya, nor did it help her boredom. The Beanery did. It combined the rich aroma of coffee with a cozy, comforting atmosphere and the more artsy Pittsburgh residents. To put it simply, The Beanery had everything just the way Ana liked it.
After her frustratingly long math test, Ana had dropped her books off at her dorm and made the short walk to the small café at the end of the road. Opening the door, she was immediately greeted warmly by the heady fragrance of coffee beans and espresso. Inhaling, Anastasiya smiled. The tension slowly eased out of her shoulders as she approached the counter. Eying the establishment closely, she abruptly sensed the crowdedness of the place today. That’s odd, she thought quietly as the customer in front of her took his drink. It’s three o’clock on a Tuesday. They’re never this crowded now. Brushing the thought from her mind, she gave the boy behind the counter a smile and a small wave.
“Afternoon, Ana,” the employee greeted, smiling. “The usual?”
“Hi, Jimmy,” Ana replied, returning the smile. “That’s fine,” she agreed, watching as the boy grabbed a cup and was whisked away by his manager to create her drink. She watched as he prepared her hot chocolate carefully and just the way she liked it. Jimmy turned back to her and slid her drink across the counter. As Ana handed him a few bills, he remarked, “Ana, you sure are an odd one. Hot chocolate in the middle of the summer?”
“Why not?” she offered lamely in response, chuckling lightly under her breath. “Thank you again,” she added, dropping her change in the tips jar and turning to the rest of the store with her drink. Biting down on her lip, she faltered for a moment. The place was positively packed, and more people were entering every second. Well, she could always head back to her dorm – but really, why would she want to do that? She’d already walked down to the coffee shop simply to bask in its wonderful aura – returning to her dorm, and her boisterous roommate – would defeat the purpose of the entire trip. After all, their hot chocolate wasn’t that good – the only way to drink it properly was to have it in the shop while watching the other customers mingle.
She was intent on finding a seat now, even if it meant introducing herself to someone new. Anastasiya had never been one for introductions, or meeting new people – she loved strangers’ ideas, but she was always fearful of approaching someone out of the blue and starting up a conversation. Things were better in her mind where she could follow the shifting patterns and notions exactly. People were unreliable and there were no formulas for socializing, and that led to awkward hellos and goodbyes that Ana never enjoyed. Scanning the room quickly for a familiar face, Ana’s eyes landed on around her age at one of the tables by the windows. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place his face with a name.
Taking a few steps in his general direction, Ana stopped. What if he was waiting for someone? She couldn’t plop down in the seat beside him as if it was nothing; what if he had a date, or he was meeting a friend? She couldn’t be rude – but would simply asking to take the seat next to him seem rude? Wrestling with two separate notions in her mind, Ana looked down at her shoes. Maybe turning back would be best. Or maybe it wouldn’t – who wanted to walk in the humidity on an incline with a cup of hot chocolate searing a hole through their hand? Ana knew she didn’t. With this in mind, she continued to walk till she’d reached the boy’s table.
As soon as she saw his dark brown hair, his distant eyes, and the ‘olive undertones’ she’d noted over their IM, Anastasiya knew who she’d encountered. “You’re Roscoe, right?” she asked, her voice soft and meek. Her voice was uncomfortably quiet, she noted, and she cursed herself for not being more assertive. “I… I mean, if you aren’t, I’m really sorry. You just look like this boy who I talked to, over… over IM.” Because that sounds so much better. Meeting someone over IM – what a legitimate source. “You just… you look like him. The same hair, and eyes, and skin.” Taking a deep breath, she eyed the seat opposite the boy and then looked back at the boy himself. She was positive it was him. “I’m Anastasiya, by the way. Could… could I sit here? The rest of the place is packed.” Because he, of course, does not have eyes. Oh Ana, what brilliant deductive skills you have!
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Post by roscoe hoberman on May 16, 2009 14:57:45 GMT -5
I KEPT FALLING OVER
[/COLOR][/FONT] I KEPT LOOKING BACKWARDS[/FONT] I WENT BROKE BELIEVEING THE SIMPLE SHOULD BE HARD[/COLOR][/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After taking a sip, Roscoe lowered his cup of tea slightly, a few inches in front of his face an below his chin. He paused, then took another sip, then set the cardboard cup carefully down on the glossy tabletop before him. He looked around the crowded space, noting a couple a few tables away from him, holding hands. At the table next nearest him, an older man sat by himself, fedora hiding his forehead and eyes. Roscoe was met with a blast of cold air from the floor; he realized then that he had sat on top of an air vent. He looked up, resuming his people-watching.
“You’re Roscoe, right?”
He looked up, surprised, wondering what would elicit such a greeting. His dark eyes widened slightly, he looked over the figure before him, noticeably confused. Then, as she went on, he realized how she knew him, and how he knew her.
“I… I mean, if you aren’t, I’m really sorry. You just look like this boy who I talked to, over… over IM. You just… you look like him. The same hair, and eyes, and skin. I’m Anastasiya, by the way. Could… could I sit here? The rest of the place is packed.”
As his eyes regained their normal size and shape, Roscoe smiled slightly. “Yeah, I am. Nice to actually meet you, Anastasiya,” he greeted the girl slowly, thinking over each word before verbalizing it. His smile widened slightly as he attempted friendliness, unsure of how badly he had failed. ”Oh, yeah, of course you can sit,” he added, nodding his head.
He looked around the cafe again as Anastasiya noted how uncharacteristically crowded it was at this time of day. A moment later, he looked back to the girl and shrugged slightly. ”I’ve, uh, come in a few times after school before... It’s not usually quite this busy,” he noted, nodding his head.
Roscoe realized then that his hand was still clamped around his tea. So he did the only thing that made sense and took a sip, then placed it back down on the table and folded his hands in his lap. He paused, trying to think of something to say, realizing again how bad he was at socializing and making conversation. He bit down on his lower lip, shifting slightly atop his wooden chair. ”What are you drinking?” he asked after a moment.
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POST STATUS:[/COLOR] COMPLETE LIKE WOAH. TEMPLATE CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] SYDKNEE SAYS!BANNER CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] THE AMAZING ALYSSA ! LYRICS CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] ALL WE ARE MATT NATHANSON ROLEPLAYING WITH:[/COLOR] ANASTASIYA (ALYSSA) WHERE WE AT?:[/COLOR] THE BEANERY. WORD COUNT:[/COLOR] 400 ! LOOKING LIKE:[/COLOR] PANTS SHIRT JACKET SHOESNOTES:[/COLOR] BLAH BLAH BLAH. =] [/FONT] [/center] [/BLOCKQUOTE][/size] |
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Post by anastasiya ivanov on May 17, 2009 0:00:37 GMT -5
when all the colors
will bleed into one
bleed into one • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • [/CENTER] Ana studied him carefully, trying to gage his reaction. She felt a wave of reassurance wash over her as she saw his eyes widen; a small smile flickered on her lips and she exhaled quietly. At least she wasn’t the only one completely and utterly terrified of the situation. Then again, that may not be so; he could have possibly just been startled by her sudden entrance, or taken aback by her frankness. At least, that’s what she considered her awkward introduction to be – frank. Ana’s definition of ‘frankness’ was skewed in that sense - she was generally a very quiet person, so with any utterance or word spoken she wondered if she was being too critical, or too nice, or too candid. And then she spent the remainder of her time trying to catch up on what other person had said. It was a vicious cycle.
“Nice to actually meet you, Anastasiya.”
She smiled. Though ‘nice to meet you’ was the typical response to meeting someone for the first time, Ana felt strangely comforted, as if he sincerely meant what he’d said. Roscoe seemed sincere enough. As he encouraged her to sit down, she slid into the seat across from him and gently set her cup down on the table. “Nice to meet you, too. And thanks,” she offered politely. His agreement with her statement slipped past her as she studied his features, captivated. Gosh, was he cute. Pictures simply didn’t do him justice, Ana learned. She inadvertently found herself picking out the different ethnicities in him – olive-tan skin from Italy, dark eyes from Colombia, brown hair from Poland, strong jawline from England. It was odd, how Ana could pick out the different cultures and ethnicities and people, though she found herself doing it often. Roscoe was perplexing, though – his eclectic mix of characteristics blended into something strikingly handsome. The weirdest part was that he had a quiet, mysterious air about him, as if he wasn’t aware of how attractive he really was.
And then she realized that she’d been staring at him for – a minute? Or was it an hour? Feeling the color rush to her cheeks, Ana cleared her throat quietly and looked down at the table. Please please please please let him not have seen that, she thought to herself, scolding herself for being so openly… gawky. She waited for the blush to drain out of her cheeks while tracing the intricate circles in the wood of the table. Once she was positive she’d returned to her normal color, she looked back up just in time to catch his question. “Hot chocolate. They make the best kind here. I always get it, even though it’s the middle of summer,” she explained, stopping once she realized how completely and utterly stupid she sounded. Who on earth got hot chocolate in July, and then went through the tedious process of explaining why they purchased such a beverage?
Trying to brush the thought from her mind, Ana wrapped a hand around the cup and blew on the top of it gently, peering over at Roscoe. Part of her felt like it was wrong for her to have sat down beside him; part of her wondered if he was going to enjoy her presence or regret having invited her to sit down. Then she remembered the look on his face when he’d greeted her and smiled, taking a small sip of the drink. The liquid was warm and creamy sliding down her throat and she set the cup back on the table, tracing the ring of it with her finger. “How about you?”
Distracted for a moment by another wave of customers, Ana’s eyes wandered for a moment at the myriad of personalities at the shop today. In one corner, there was a writer typing away at his laptop; in another, a couple held hands over the table. Sitting in armchairs opposite each other, an old man and a college student chatted happily. The employees put on their own ballet of preparing drinks to the music of the cash register and the dinging of the small bell on top of the door. It was nice, watching all these people mingling and enjoying each other’s company. “I love it here. I mean, I hate coffee, but I love the smell, and the people here,” she commented, looking back at Roscoe with a smile.
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Post by roscoe hoberman on Jun 25, 2009 9:59:00 GMT -5
I KEPT FALLING OVER
[/COLOR][/FONT] I KEPT LOOKING BACKWARDS[/FONT] I WENT BROKE BELIEVEING THE SIMPLE SHOULD BE HARD[/COLOR][/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Roscoe fidgeted with his hands in his lap for a moment, teeth digging lightly into his lower lip. He tilted his head to the side as Anastasiya smiled, seeming to ponder a response to his question as she sat down across from him. He smiled softly. So he wasn’t the only one who took a moment before speaking, who thought out what he said before saying it. Dodger had made fun of him for it when he was younger, calling him slow. Dodger just said what he felt, and somehow it still always came out better than the statements Roscoe thought and worried over before uttering. It had always baffled him.
His smile widened slightly as she repeated his pleasantry and thanked him, nodding simply. Then she just… looked at him for a little while. He bit at his lip again, and a hot flush washed over his features. Had he forgotten to brush his hair? Was there something on his face? He felt stupid for a moment and looked down at the table top, fidgeting with his hands in his lap more pronouncedly. Keeping his head down, he raised his eyes to look back at her a moment later. She was red too, nearly the same shade as him as she traced her finger along the surface of the table he had been staring so intently at a moment before. He couldn’t help but smile slightly then.
“Hot chocolate” she answered, then went on for a moment. He nodded his head in agreement. “They do have very good hot chocolate here,” he replied. He didn’t have it very often; he was too consistent a tea-drinker to change his ways very often at all. But the few times that he had strayed from his usual order and gotten a hot chocolate, he had liked it. It was far better than the powdered stuff they had in the school cafeteria. Roscoe paused a moment, contemplating this. He couldn’t remember the name of the powdered school hot chocolate, and it was going to bug him. He frowned and sat a moment, but couldn’t think of it. He exhaled quietly and surrendered, deciding to go and check later. Otherwise, he would keep thinking about it, and that would not do at all.
He looked up again when she asked what he was drinking, a bit slow to react. “Oh, tea,” he answered sheepishly. As if to demonstrate, he took his drink from the table and helped himself to a slow, cautious sip before carefully setting it down once again. The tea had left a watery ring on the table, and Roscoe did his best to set it back exactly on the circle again. He missed by mere millimeters, as he could tell by a protruding wet spot on one side of his cup. He moved the cup slightly in that direction, but only smeared the water into more of a puddle than a circle. He pursed his lips.
“I love it here. I mean, I hate coffee, but I love the smell, and the people here.”
Roscoe looked up, momentarily startled. He hadn’t noticed the people wandering in. Normally he would have, but he had been too preoccupied adjusting his cup on the table; how silly of him. So her comment caught him slightly off-guard. He looked around, noticing the same groups and personalities Ana had a moment before. He smiled softly, turning his head to look back at Anastasiya and sitting up straighter in his chair.
“I hate coffee, too,” he agreed. “But I love the smell, and watching the people here.” He smiled, almost grinned, then. Most people thought he was weird when he told them that, not that he often went around talking about why exactly he chose to frequent the coffee shop. But it was rare that anyone found his reasoning even slightly normal, let alone shared his train of thought. But it was true – the people were interesting, and who could resist the smell of coffee? It was intoxicating.
But the fact that someone else felt the same way made him smile, and he couldn’t help it. He was suddenly very glad that Anastasiya had chosen to sit with him, not that he had ever regretted it. He would have thought the encounter to be awkward. Now it was Roscoe’s turn to study her a moment – she was beautiful. And he was, well, he was Roscoe. He wasn’t sure what they could find to talk about. He was too quiet to make this natural. Dodger would have been fine in this situation. But here he was, just being himself, and he had actually found that he could relate to this girl next to him, and quite well. That never happened to him. It was an interesting feeling, and he found that, for the moment, he could not wipe this satisfied smile from his features.
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POST STATUS:[/COLOR] COMPLETE LIKE WOAH. TEMPLATE CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] SYDKNEE SAYS!BANNER CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] THE AMAZING ALYSSA ! LYRICS CREDIT TO:[/COLOR] ALL WE ARE MATT NATHANSON ROLEPLAYING WITH:[/COLOR] ANASTASIYA (ALYSSA) WHERE WE AT?:[/COLOR] THE BEANERY. WORD COUNT:[/COLOR] 817 ! LOOKING LIKE:[/COLOR] PANTS SHIRT JACKET SHOESNOTES:[/COLOR] BLAH BLAH BLAH. =] [/FONT] [/center] [/BLOCKQUOTE][/size] |
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Post by anastasiya ivanov on Jun 26, 2009 4:03:00 GMT -5
when all the colors
will bleed into one
bleed into one • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • [/CENTER] That moment of intense gazing had cost her. As she focused back in on what was happening in real life, Anastasiya noted Roscoe’s nervous tendencies. He was fidgeting – even more than he had been before, she’d noted – and there was a sense of panic within his movements, something sharp and hurried that worried Ana. Had she done something? Of course she had; she’d gawked at seemingly nothing within Roscoe for minutes on end and had no excuse for it. Realizing this, she flushed pink again, just in time for Roscoe to peer up at her with anxious eyes. For a moment her eyes locked with his and she found herself wanting to study him again, find out why there was such hesitancy in his gaze or such a large pause before his words. Then again, she figured he may have been thinking the same thing. After all, Ana did the same thing; she thought – perhaps too long and too hard – about what she said, and she didn’t enjoy eyes watching her. Attention-getting was not Ana’s forte and she’d never enjoyed being in the limelight.
She almost had to rip her attention away from his eyes and gulp down the increasingly large lump in her throat. “I… I’m sorry, for, um…” Ana’s breath caught and she searched for the right word, wishing she hadn’t begun to speak. Gawking at you? Staring you down minutes into meeting you? Being a complete creep? “I just…” Am socially awkward? Can’t think of what to say? Need to stop talking? “You have really nice eyes.” Wait, WHAT? “I – I mean, not that the rest of you isn’t nice, because it is – you’re really handsome – I mean – yeah.”
All of a sudden she felt like puking. The hot chocolate in her hand seemed not warm but scalding, starting a fire that raged through her skin faster than she could contain it. Her heart rate quickened and she contemplated whether or not to leave or stay and endure the awkward conversation that would ensue. Up and leaving would be undeniably rude, though, and Ana didn’t want that. Between seeming undyingly nervous and seeming rude and undyingly nervous, Ana figured the former would be the lesser of the two evils. So she sat, flustered and admittedly too apprehensive for her own good, and looked back up at Roscoe apologetically.
It was only then that she realized his lips had twitched up into a charming smile. It was only slight, but it was sincere, as were all of Roscoe’s actions, Ana discerned. There was something about him that was irresistible about him, a certain quality that kept her attention. He was so… real. He didn’t make small talk for the sake of making small talk; he thought about his responses and said what he meant to say, not what someone wanted to hear. He wasn’t quiet because he was bored or uninterested, either; he was quiet because he was thinking, or had a response to something said but wanted it to sound right. Ana was a lot like that, too, though she normally found herself blurting out her thoughts prematurely – case in point, her rambling about Roscoe’s appearance moments ago. Still, his quiet demeanor was comforting, to say the least, and it didn’t hurt that he was pretty easy on the eyes, too.
“They do,” Ana agreed softly, smiling. Sipping her hot chocolate for a moment, she allowed herself to return to her normal color and observe his reaction. When he informed her that he was drinking tea, Ana couldn’t help but smile. She was pretty neutral when it came to tea – there were times when she loved it, and times she didn’t – but it just seemed so fitting that Roscoe was drinking it. “I’ve never tried their tea. Is it any good?” she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side as Roscoe sipped his tea and then attempted to set the cup down in the same watery circle it had formed earlier. He missed, to both his and Ana’s discontent; she could sense his frustration as he attempted to slide the cup back into the circle. It was a simple thing that most people didn’t bother to do, but she realized his attention to detail as he tried to maneuver the cup around. Instinctively she grabbed a napkin and gently wiped off the trail of water around the cup. “Perfect,” she commented, smiling up at Roscoe and setting the napkin next to her drink.
“The drink tastes worse if I don’t drink it here, actually,” Ana remarked, eying the other customers once more before returning her attention to Roscoe. “People ask me why I come here and I tell them it’s the atmosphere; everyone comes here so you can see everything at once.” She smiled back at Roscoe, glad for the common ground between them. The conversation had been a bit awkward before, simply because both she and Roscoe seemed to overanalyze the situation. She wasn’t sure about Roscoe, but she would continue to be analytical about her actions. She couldn’t go blabbing her thoughts out like she had a few moments ago.
He seemed to be studying her, now, in the same way she’d studied him. It was only now, though, that Ana realized how awkward it was being looked at. She didn’t know whether to look away, or look into his eyes, or look behind him, so she simply looked down at her coffee, a trace of a blush making its way to her features again. Ana had never been used to being looked at for long periods of time – most people would look at her once and continue on with the conversation. She felt nervous as Roscoe eyed her, especially since she wasn’t used to the attention. Looking back up at him, she realized that Roscoe was smiling yet again. “You have a really nice smile,” she commented, absently tracing the rim of her cup again. “I’m sure you get that a lot, though.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • STATUS • complete TAGGED • roscoe [andi] SPORTING • DRESS ?! FLATS ?! WORD COUNT • 1,000 LYRICS • I still haven’t found what I’m looking for – U2 NOTES • it is five in the morning and I had the brilliant idea of staying up to write this post instead of going to sleep like a smart person… D= CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION [/FONT][/COLOR][/CENTER][/blockquote] |
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