Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Mar 2, 2012 22:38:26 GMT -5
Aw, you dudes are lucky! Two things from me in one day! Wow, that was so conceited sounding, hahaha. Faaaiiiilll. Okay, so the story really starts getting interesting around chapter 17, be prepared! Hahah, whenever I reread it, I usually skip to this part. So, I hope you enjoy! Get read for the ride! (; I sound awful today, hahah. Well, short chapter.
Thank you to everyone who's commented and read this. And dear walktherainbows has posted another chapter! You should read it!
Sweat is pouring from my face unattractively and it’s hot and sticky inside my mask. But what’s worse than the mask is the outfit—it’s a thick, heavy white sweatshirt with heavy white sweatpants rolled up to my knees, white socks pulled up to be tucked underneath the seam. As if I wasn’t sweating enough already.
“Gosh, you’re good,” I wheeze, blocking a blow from his hand. The thin sword bends as it’s whipped backwards.
“You’re not bad yourself,” Greyson says back. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re not seeing anything. Truce?” I jump out of the way and throw the sword at him. He dodges it.
“Okay. Just because you can’t handle it,” Greyson teases.
“Well, in that case…” I tip my head, looking at my sword on the other side of the room. “Actually, I’m okay with that. I’ll just…beat you up later.”
He shrugs and we take off the irritating face guards and I quickly wipe my face of the precipitation. Finally, something good comes out of these hot suits. But they’re not totally absorbent. I laugh nervously. “I’m such a nasty, sweaty, disaster,” I say self-consciously.
“No, you’re fine.” Greyson looks at me sincerely and hands me a towel.
I take it gratefully and sponge off my forehead. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Thank you, that was awesome.”
“Really?” I beam. Stephen and I did this once before—we both knew it felt nerdy but we wanted to try it, Stephen loved rapiers and I wanted to see what it was like to sword fight. Thanks to Barney knowing the person who owned the place, I had pulled a few ties to allow us to practice. Obviously, not with the real rapiers from the movies, but with a few practice rapiers that the museum has stashed for people who want to play around. “I feel like it’s so nerdy,” I laugh.
“No, it was great,” he assures me.
“I’m glad you approve.”
Greyson picks up my fallen sword and leans it against the shelf.
“Did I ever meet you? When I was, somewhat famous?” Greyson asks. We’re sitting at the bookstore’s café, sipping coffee and tea. Greyson has a coffee. I politely keep myself from wrinkling my nose.
I bite my lip awkwardly. What if I did, but I don’t remember him? How that would be. Everything was a blur. So I go with a safe answer, or as safe as I can make it. “I don’t think so,” I say quickly so I can go back and tell him he didn’t hear my correctly.
Greyson nods slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. I didn’t try to discourage him from buying one, but I still feel slightly repulsed. “I think you’re right. I’d remember your charm.”
“Oh please,” I sigh exaggeratedly. The tea in my cup trembles as the force of air hits it.
“I’m not kidding,” he smiles.
“You need to learn how to keep your compliments realistic,” I tell him.
Greyson laughs. “I’d prefer a girl who wouldn’t lie, Lorence. Don’t you know that?”
“I did at one point.” My hands wrap around my mug and I take a small scalding sip. “I knew how you preferred girls who didn’t wear make-up. And who’s always herself.”
“You’d never lie to me, would you?”
“Oh, you caught me,” I tease lightly. He actually almost has caught me.
“In what?” Greyson widens his eyes.
“I haven’t told you how I’m slightly repulsed by your coffee,” I smile and raise my eyebrows.
“Oh, you are?” Greyson looks into his cup, like he’s trying to find a bug in it or something.
“There’s nothing in your mug,” I tell him.
“What’s wrong with it then?” he looks at me with those brown eyes.
I smile but cringe awkwardly. “You didn’t pick up that I hated coffee?”
“I think I knew it somewhere in my head. I did bring you a hot chocolate earlier, didn’t I?” Greyson tips his head and looks at me expectantly.
“You’re right,” I say and take another sip of my tea.
We banter and chat for a little longer, but with the subject of lying coming up, I feel awkward—I know I haven’t told him everything. Inside I know I should, but it’s such a personal thing and I’m wary about putting it out there. Greyson and I have known each other for only a few weeks. But then I think about how much time I spend with him—Greyson and I see each other more than I see Stephen nowadays, which is saying a ton. I’ve trusted my secrets with Stephen, but I’ve known him longer. But over those years of knowing him, we didn’t spend as much time together as Greyson and I.
I decide I need to tell him.
“Hey Greyson,” I start. Now that I have a purpose, I feel myself getting awkward and clammy. Mentally, I cringe as I think about the sweat that poured down my face earlier and I have an exaggerated image of myself drenched.
Greyson swallows down the rest of his drink and smacks his lips. “Yeah?”
“Will you meet me at Stephen’s coffee shop?”
He gives me a curious look. Am I really sweating bullets? Do I look that anxious? But his eyes don’t give any more away than his curiosity. “Of course.”
Thank you to everyone who's commented and read this. And dear walktherainbows has posted another chapter! You should read it!
Chapter 16
Lorence
Sweat is pouring from my face unattractively and it’s hot and sticky inside my mask. But what’s worse than the mask is the outfit—it’s a thick, heavy white sweatshirt with heavy white sweatpants rolled up to my knees, white socks pulled up to be tucked underneath the seam. As if I wasn’t sweating enough already.
“Gosh, you’re good,” I wheeze, blocking a blow from his hand. The thin sword bends as it’s whipped backwards.
“You’re not bad yourself,” Greyson says back. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re not seeing anything. Truce?” I jump out of the way and throw the sword at him. He dodges it.
“Okay. Just because you can’t handle it,” Greyson teases.
“Well, in that case…” I tip my head, looking at my sword on the other side of the room. “Actually, I’m okay with that. I’ll just…beat you up later.”
He shrugs and we take off the irritating face guards and I quickly wipe my face of the precipitation. Finally, something good comes out of these hot suits. But they’re not totally absorbent. I laugh nervously. “I’m such a nasty, sweaty, disaster,” I say self-consciously.
“No, you’re fine.” Greyson looks at me sincerely and hands me a towel.
I take it gratefully and sponge off my forehead. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Thank you, that was awesome.”
“Really?” I beam. Stephen and I did this once before—we both knew it felt nerdy but we wanted to try it, Stephen loved rapiers and I wanted to see what it was like to sword fight. Thanks to Barney knowing the person who owned the place, I had pulled a few ties to allow us to practice. Obviously, not with the real rapiers from the movies, but with a few practice rapiers that the museum has stashed for people who want to play around. “I feel like it’s so nerdy,” I laugh.
“No, it was great,” he assures me.
“I’m glad you approve.”
Greyson picks up my fallen sword and leans it against the shelf.
“Did I ever meet you? When I was, somewhat famous?” Greyson asks. We’re sitting at the bookstore’s café, sipping coffee and tea. Greyson has a coffee. I politely keep myself from wrinkling my nose.
I bite my lip awkwardly. What if I did, but I don’t remember him? How that would be. Everything was a blur. So I go with a safe answer, or as safe as I can make it. “I don’t think so,” I say quickly so I can go back and tell him he didn’t hear my correctly.
Greyson nods slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. I didn’t try to discourage him from buying one, but I still feel slightly repulsed. “I think you’re right. I’d remember your charm.”
“Oh please,” I sigh exaggeratedly. The tea in my cup trembles as the force of air hits it.
“I’m not kidding,” he smiles.
“You need to learn how to keep your compliments realistic,” I tell him.
Greyson laughs. “I’d prefer a girl who wouldn’t lie, Lorence. Don’t you know that?”
“I did at one point.” My hands wrap around my mug and I take a small scalding sip. “I knew how you preferred girls who didn’t wear make-up. And who’s always herself.”
“You’d never lie to me, would you?”
“Oh, you caught me,” I tease lightly. He actually almost has caught me.
“In what?” Greyson widens his eyes.
“I haven’t told you how I’m slightly repulsed by your coffee,” I smile and raise my eyebrows.
“Oh, you are?” Greyson looks into his cup, like he’s trying to find a bug in it or something.
“There’s nothing in your mug,” I tell him.
“What’s wrong with it then?” he looks at me with those brown eyes.
I smile but cringe awkwardly. “You didn’t pick up that I hated coffee?”
“I think I knew it somewhere in my head. I did bring you a hot chocolate earlier, didn’t I?” Greyson tips his head and looks at me expectantly.
“You’re right,” I say and take another sip of my tea.
We banter and chat for a little longer, but with the subject of lying coming up, I feel awkward—I know I haven’t told him everything. Inside I know I should, but it’s such a personal thing and I’m wary about putting it out there. Greyson and I have known each other for only a few weeks. But then I think about how much time I spend with him—Greyson and I see each other more than I see Stephen nowadays, which is saying a ton. I’ve trusted my secrets with Stephen, but I’ve known him longer. But over those years of knowing him, we didn’t spend as much time together as Greyson and I.
I decide I need to tell him.
“Hey Greyson,” I start. Now that I have a purpose, I feel myself getting awkward and clammy. Mentally, I cringe as I think about the sweat that poured down my face earlier and I have an exaggerated image of myself drenched.
Greyson swallows down the rest of his drink and smacks his lips. “Yeah?”
“Will you meet me at Stephen’s coffee shop?”
He gives me a curious look. Am I really sweating bullets? Do I look that anxious? But his eyes don’t give any more away than his curiosity. “Of course.”