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Post by gia brigitte leviton on Apr 23, 2010 16:20:58 GMT -5
The cold night air was truly chilling Gia to the bone, making the small, pale hairs on her arms stand up against the rest of her relatively relaxed posture, her slender spine bent in the totally American slouch that had plagued everyone who ever bothered to go there, let alone live their entire lives in one spot. Up until recently, the Levitons had been so broke that it was ridiculous. We’re talking dirt floors, gardening and selling the produce, cows, eating the meat of the animals they raised since birth.. The whole nine yards. And then suddenly, they’d been out digging for a new well, struck oil, and richness floated into their lives like you wouldn’t believe. So many things changed so quickly, but Gia had been alive when they were poor, she knew what it was like to eat moldy potatoes - unpleasant - and apparently the feeling carried over quite easily into being transferred into situations where she was completely outnumbered by people who’d been born with a silver spoon up their ass and a butler wiping their fat little chins as they produced more shit then Gia had ever raked in her life. And that was a lot of shit. You try having horse after horse after horse, and taking your only pleasure in breaking them so they could be ridden. Brushing a slender hand through her hair, she shuddered, the all-white of her outfit matching the snow that had fallen on the ground right outside of the perfect, delicious bakery. Never in her life had she tasted Pain au Chocolat that was so utterly.. Godly. Even though they were in Milan and not France, the tasty treat was like having heaven permeate your taste buds, like having the touch of the lords above rain down on you in buckets. There was no experience better then letting the crispy, light flavor of the buttery, perfect croissant bread roll over your teeth and mouth, and with traces of chocolate on the inside, mmm… They didn’t have anything like this back home. Hell, they didn’t have anything like it anywhere in the country.
Long hair coiled over her shoulder in a sloppy braid, Gia probably looked every bit the ostentatiously American poor girl, her clothes doing nothing to hide the signs. Whereas other girls her age and wealth echelon had hands like lilies, hers were roughed up from work in the barn and around the house, and whereas others had at least some meat on their bones, her body showed signs of working out continuously and otherwise strangling herself with enough effort to keep clothes on her back and food in her mouth. She didn’t eat much - a life like hers had once been didn’t yield much of an appetite, and for her part, she did dress incredibly well.. But she just stuck out like a sore thumb. Taking another bite of her Pain au Chocolat, the girl slid a bit down in her seat and glanced out the window as she chewed, watching the beautiful people go by as the scene unfolded in front of her. Dropping the croissant on her plate, she wiped her fingers with a napkin and glanced around the interior of the comfortable, shabby-chic café. It was run by the same people who opened it, made an intellectual place of it.. Sometimes you could find small notes on the inside of the desks you sat at while you drank and ate your food and drink. Tugging open one of the drawers, she pulled out one of the notes that read ‘tua madre gode di ragazze’, a series of small hearts dotting the I’s, and cute little squiggles serving as the z. Gia didn’t speak Italian, or not much of it, but she knew enough to recognize the ‘your mother’, and realized that it probably wasn’t something she ever wanted to think of, let alone know entirely.
At the feeling of eyes on her, she tucked the pieces of paper back into the desk and shook her head, chin resting on her palm, returning her gaze to the outside of the café. There weren’t many people who didn’t know who she was - her parents were like the Brangelina of the regular people and it made her sick.. Seventeen kids, and did anyone know they weren’t all hers? Her mother had a thing for keeping kids safe. She wondered, idly, how any of them managed to end up looking like her in the slightest - none of them were genetically related. Releasing a sigh, she folded her hands and used them as a rest for her chin, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she closed her eyes, slowly, and began a dream that would take her far, far away from the stupid bakery in stupid Italy with the stupid people and the criticism she got for having sixteen brothers and sisters - like she wanted it. Like she would have taken it up again if given a second chance.
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Post by louise edna vanderbilt on Apr 25, 2010 16:48:48 GMT -5
Snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. It was white. It was fluffy. It was cold. Very cold. But when packed tightly together and one got inside the little igloo, it was suddenly warm and comforting. However, as much as she wanted to make an igloo and play Eskimo for a few hours, Louie was walking to the bakery in order to greet the old couple that ran the place that she loved so much. Her parents usually hired them whenever they had a major event in the Italy for the catering because they were just so damn good. The only problem with walking, despite having well than enough cash to have her own car and drive there or take a taxi, was that she wasn't exactly completely covered up. She had bone colored leggings, a somewhat sheer rose top ( lacy black bra visible), some Dr. Martens (floral print) on her feet, and then a black cardigan on top that was missing sleeves. She lost her coat somewhere...she honestly couldn't remember where. At least she had that navy scarf on though it wasn't doing good since it just sat there while she absently played with the pearls that hung underneath it. She had a crap load of accessories on as she usually did and her purse wasn't anything special. She looked European but laid back as she normally did and because of her laid back nature, she developed that typical American slouch but she was so far from American it was ridiculous. Dutch born and raised but she rarely ever stayed in one place for so long. It wasn't like her to be perfectly honestly.
So as she walked, she felt the goosebumps running up and down her sun kissed skin from her time spent in Brazil, which was the only place she stayed in for an extended period of time. That was only for Clara though...How she used to adore that woman. Granted she was a lot older than her and such, but she did adore her. Probably the only person she told those three little words to and actually meant it in such a context instead of just with family and her pet albino python, Monty. With her hair in that bed messy way it always was, she opened the door to the little bakery and let a huge grin fall on her makeup-free attractive face. The tall and slender female was probably a bit too skinny from her lack of eating but she tended to fool people by wearing loose tops. Tight clothing didn't entirely exist in her wardrobe so if she wore it it was because she stole it from one of her sisters. With that easy going way of her's, she sweetly spoke to the cashier which was the old woman today, "Hazelnut Latte sounds delish now," she leaned against the counter as she let that playful puppy smile tug on her lips, "Oh! Do you have those little rollie thingies? The one's you made for Gracie's birthday last year..." the old woman replied in her sweet Italian-accented English, "You're the best, babes...fercereal," she laughed softly as the woman handed her the specially made rolled up cinnamon raisin bread rolled up and lightly toasted with butter. It was her favorite of all time and some crazy creation of the woman's and she loved her for it.
Pulling out some Euros from her purse, she handed them to her, not really paying attention to what she was giving her-but pretty sure it covered everything. The old woman already knew the drill-Louie hated carrying cash and change so she never asked for change back...which meant she went through money rather quickly at times. Turning around once she had the latte in hand, stormy azure orbs swept across the shop in hopes of finding a seat which was easy...barely anyone was in there. That was when she spotted the female by the window in all white. She was tempted to go up to her and say something extremely corny...Nah...Or maybe she should? It was fun saying corny things to people and seeing how they would react, though.
So heading on over without much more thought, she easily slipped into the seat across from her, glancing out the window as well as if to search for whatever she was looking at, "So did it hurt?" she glanced over at the female across from her, "When you fell from heaven," she let that playful puppy look fall over her as she took a sip from her latte. The old woman in the back simply shook her head and chuckled, already knowing how Louie was and that there was no stopping her. If her family and friends couldn't control her no one really could. She was the, in a way, prodigal daughter of the Vanderbilt family and she wore that title quite proudly. But Louie wasn't lying, the chick did look gorgeous. She liked that she stood out so perfectly in all white and with that American slouch that was way better than her own slouch, and the way she wasn't....She wasn't the norm. And if it was anything Louie was attracted to it was everything but normal.
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Post by gia brigitte leviton on Apr 25, 2010 20:47:55 GMT -5
She honestly wasn’t expecting company, so needless to say, she jumped a little bit when the pair of eyes landed on her, and the smell of cinnamon bread - or something else, she couldn’t quite place it - hit her nose. She wasn’t a big fan of sweet stuff, apart from that infinitely pleasing, orgasmic Pain au Chocolat… oh my god. She could rant on for hours about how satisfying it was. Better then a night in bed with a woman, times a thousand. She could be fucked senseless and it still wouldn’t help her reach the level of bliss that the chocolaty delight bestowed upon her with the first, single bite. Shifting slightly in her seat to get a better look at the female who’d approached her. “Satan left an air mattress out for me,” she stated, her humor a bit dry but funny nonetheless. She didn’t want to introduce herself, because that would result in something like recognition. One of seventeen kids. Christ almighty. Her mother must be one self-sacrificing bitch. And not to mention, who actually wanted seventeen kids? What, was she stockpiling them for the war or something? Were they hung on coatracks by the multi-language dictionaries and other assorted shit like that? Just thinking about her own figurative flesh and blood made Gia sort of feel sick. Brushing a hand through her hair, she offered a dry chuckle and murmured, only after the girl had seated herself, “Join me, feel free.” she wasn’t by any means uptight or rigid, definitely more laid back then most of the old money families, and maybe that was where the distinction became obvious. Lifting the pastry to her lips to take a bite, she crossed one long, slender leg over the other and placed her elbows on the table, unaware of formal etiquette and otherwise not caring.
“Aren’t you cold?” she questioned next, noting her own abandoned jacket on the seat behind her and wondering, just briefly, if she should offer it. The thought abandoned her mind almost as soon as it had entered, her thoughts more centered around something like the value of her jacket or her own pastry, still in her hands despite her apparent willingness to take a bite. There was half left, maybe a bit less, but she couldn’t help but start to think about the way it would pack pounds onto her tiny, athletic figure. That wasn’t something she wanted, and running it off in the gym later obviously was the only answer she could think of. It wasn’t easy to keep up her coveted 36-24-36 measurements, and she didn’t usually do it intentionally, but just sitting next to this stick of a girl made her want to go without food for a long, long time. Never mind shoving a cheeseburger down her throat, there was always turning things around to herself, like she usually did with everything negative. “It’s snowing outside; your arms are showing like it’s seventy-five.” her southern accent was prominent and she hated it; she hated everything about Texas, and while she missed it because it was home, she saw absolutely no reason why she’d ever have to go back. It wasn’t like living on her own scared her - she couldn’t possibly be any poorer then she was before. “Here.” she finally stated, finishing her own assumptions by tossing the fur coat over the table absently. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford another when push came to shove.
Putting her biscuit back down on the plate without having eaten more of it, she directed her glance momentarily back outside, and then back to the girl. She looked familiar. Very, very familiar. Unfortunately, without revealing who she was, she couldn’t exactly bring up their probable going to school together. It wouldn’t be a good idea and Gia knew that. Her insides trembled a bit at the thought of addressing it, but as her eyes followed the girl’s throat line, regret at having covered up that beautiful skin pulsed through her veins. Fuck. Stop that. But she did have lovely skin - admitting that wasn’t betraying her sexuality, was it? She wasn’t gay because she thought the other girl was beautiful, right? She was beautiful. She was ravishing. Lovely. Perfect. Gia would give anything to have skin, hair, eyes… just to look like her. So that meant it was jealous that made her hands shake a bit as she placed them back in her lap, to hide it, right? Maybe her blood sugar was low. She contemplated taking a bite, and stopped herself and her foolish behavior with another question; “What is that?” she asked, indicating the pastry the other girl had with a nod of her head. “It smells weird,”
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Post by louise edna vanderbilt on Apr 25, 2010 21:21:15 GMT -5
"Well isn't Satan a totally chill dude, yeah," she laughed softly, honestly finding what she said funny even if she didn't laugh all that much. Louise had no shame in pretty much everything she did. The only person that could make her feel completely horrible about herself was her mother because her father couldn't give two shits what she did. Her mother, however, was still extremely pissed that Louie had claimed she was a lesbian back in junior high and it was probably why she had this whole arranged marriage crap going on with Mr. Old Dude she didn't know all that much about. She thought her parents were joking when they said they were set up together by their parents and that that was how it went all along the line. This was why Louise didn't like tradition. It was bogus.
"Thanks, babes," she winked at her but she was obviously just messing with her. It was harmless flirting and it was what Louise did with everyone she found attractive, "I'm actually fine...When I'm outside it's like my nips are gonna like freeze off," she chuckled. Of course she had been cold but it was nice and toasty there in the bakery so there was nothing wrong with her in the attire she was in. But at the coat was tossed to her, she caught it and then handed it right back, "I'll lose it," she shrugged, "I tend to lose everything," she grinned softly before looking down at her cinnamon roll and suddenly feeling that huge mental tug. All she wanted to do was eat it but her other half was repeating to her all the calories, the cholesterol, the sugar, every single harmful gram and then proceeded to showing her an image of herself fat and as a disgusting blob sitting in a hospital with tubes coming out of her to help her breathe but eating a bag of Salt and Vinegar chips. Oh God no...Okay she could survive without the cinnamon roll thing..She could stick with her latte because that she could easily sweat off-or piss out in blunt terms.
As she took a sip of her hazelnut latte, the female spoke and she followed her eyes to her food and smiled that easy going smile of her's, "Cinnamon Raisen bread rolled up lightly buttered and toasted," she picked it up with her two fingers since it really wasn't all that big considering it was only one slice of bread and held it up for her to take a bite out of it. At least she didn't shove it in her face, no, she held it out so if she wanted to, all she had to do was move her head a tad bit forward to take a bite, "This is the only place in the world that makes this stuff," she chuckled, "And I know...cuz I've tried looking for this all over the world," she really meant it too. Every country she went to didn't make it this way and it was so simple! Once she took the bite, Louie shamelessly watched for her reaction, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling and failing epically.
"So," she smirked, "I'm Louie," she let the soft smile replace the smirk. She wasn't a fan of last names because she felt it only made everyone judge you based on rumors or your family especially the old and new money kids. If you were just some unknown scholarship kid you were extremely lucky, "And you are...?" simple question right? Sure Louie was pretty well known in the school...Really well known actually but it was only because she was known for always getting in trouble and never being around...And because she was one of the few old money kids who did not act or talk like an old money kid should. She just relaxed and took life one step at a time...unless it came to food. But she did want a name to connect with the gorgeous face, "Unless you wanna be called Beautiful," she winked at her playfully again. She had no problem calling her beautiful and with a face like her's, Louie was bound to not forget it...or her name....whatever it may be.
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Post by gia brigitte leviton on Apr 25, 2010 21:54:48 GMT -5
The comment about the girl’s nipples elicited a dry chuckle from Gia, who’d never had that experience because bundling up was something she thoroughly enjoyed, and usually did when she was outside the confines of a heated building. Especially in Europe, especially in the heat. “Sounds like it hurts,” she stated, tone slightly monotonous and her eyebrow raised as if to question the other female’s statement. “Hope they go back to normal after that.” pancake nipples were not attractive, not that she could tell, anyway, and should be avoided at all costs. Smirking lightly, she shrugged her shoulders and managed to offer a sort of lopsided grin, her teeth imperfect but somehow still charming. It made her look younger. A lot younger. It was strange to see the transition from angular, stunning teenager to young, adorable little kid, really. She was youthful in both phases of her personality, but to be honest it showed more when she smiled, and that may have been the impression the other girl got from her. At this point, she didn’t much care. She was too won over by her unique verbiage and completely irrelevant phrasing. When the jacket came back her way, she tucked it behind her. “Good to know my shit isn’t good enough for you,” but then she offered another of her playful grins, and it slid past hardly noticed, a pleasant and happy expression in place of what could be a very frustrated girl. The jacket was very, very warm, to be honest, and her cheeks were a little flushed as it was, so maybe it would be a better idea not to wear it herself, either. White on white on white wasn’t exactly the best idea when you were in a place where the only thing you could wear without looking like an idiot was black. Tugging gently on the stud earrings in her ears, the delicate fingers of her free hand encircled a glass of water that she’d forgotten was there, long, meticulous nails tapping gently against the glass. It was all right. Probably better off, if she lost things as much as she said she did.
And then there was a hand in front of her face, a silent offer to try the food, and she dried her hand on her lap, leaning forward to grasp the other girls fingers, hold them steady, and take a bit of the bread. It was okay, admittedly, but it wasn’t the best she’d ever had. Nodding, she swallowed thickly before taking a sip of the water, “That’s yummy,” she managed, coughing to dislodge a raisin that had caught in her throat and taking another drink. “It doesn’t sound that complicated, either. You should tell the other bakeries about it, if you’re about the world so often.” there was a tinge of jealousy, but it was too light to catch onto it. Gia hadn’t been around the world, apart from the imitation parties her parents had tried to throw - unsuccessfully, she might add - where they took a yacht or something similar around the Caribbean. It was hardly the same as it was apparently supposed to be, and the only food she’d had there had made her want to throw up. Spanish and island food just didn’t tickle her fancy, but then again, neither did the food Texas was known for. Texmex and Fried steaks; not so much. She was more of an Italian food person, if she ever bothered to ingest anything other than sweets. Talk about a pig. Clearing her throat, she crossed a foot behind her leg, double-crossed, so you could say, a comfortable position for long-limbed, and nodded. “You could call me that if you like.” she added playfully, a twinkle in her eye. And she was… flirting? Sort of. Not really. “But then I’d be forced to call you Angelic, and somehow I don’t think that applies.” Gia shrugged, giggled and returned to her easily slouched position.
“I’m Gia. Like the supermodel from the seventies.” she paused, thought more on it, and decided to cross her own statement out with another. “Except without the AIDS and drugs. And I don’t have a particular liking to boys and girls,” the girl frowned, perplexed at her own statement, and finally revoked the initial statement completely, in that way that so many people often did. She was just another of those stupid, anxious Americans. “So I guess I’m really not like her at all.” she offered another shrug, took another sip of the water, and pushed her plate closer. “Pain Au Chocolat,” she murmured in perfect, heart-stopping French. It was something she’d learned in high school and never quite lost; she’d won the Language competitions in the reading comprehension category and pronunciation, as well as spelling. “It’s really good.” and with that, she pulled out the other drawer and extracted another note, this one written to a Luigi. She resisted the urge to respond from Mario, instead reading it’s professions aloud for Louie to hear as well, ”Dear Agnes, I wish I didn't have to miss you. If only you could be with me always. I know I could never be any happier. But then again, I know that the day will come when I will be able to spend my every waking moment with you. I even miss you when I am sleeping! I love you, babe. You are my first and my only love, and I thank you for be so kind with my heart. Hopefully, soon I won't have to hate missing you.” she tucked it gently back into the desk, shut the door, and smiled, sweeter. Gentler. “What’s in your side?”
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Post by louise edna vanderbilt on Apr 26, 2010 10:22:20 GMT -5
"They do," she chuckled, taking a sip of her hazel nut latte. Absently, she grabbed the sharpie that was at the side of the table, doodling on the cup as she usually did, "It really isn't," she winked over at the other female, "I hate expensive looking stuff....reminds me of old money kids," she smirked. She was joking but partially serious as well. It was why she wore a lot of things she got at flea markets around the world. Despite losing everything, she didn't do laundry in the first place so she had to constantly be buying new things-cheap things. There was no point in buying a five thousand dollar coat when she would only wear it once. It was logical to her, at least, even though her mother hated her for it.
"I should, right?" she shrugged, "I don't know that many languages," she grinned playfully and when she heard the other female introducing herself, she drew her name onto the cup in curly lettering. She had been doodling her face before and she was glad she was talented enough in art (but it seemed only when she doodled...anime) and thanks to Professor Haze who taught her how to turn her anime up to the next level...that this wouldn't be embarrassing to show her, "You're right," she bit her lower lip softly as she concentrated a bit on her drawing, glancing up at her a few times as she continued, "You're way more gorgeous, babes," but not liking boys and girls? What was that about? "But you should at least like chicks," her stormy sky eyes flashed up to lock onto her's for a few seconds before tearing them away, "We're better than dicks," she smirked as she finished but didn't show it to her yet because the food was suddenly pushed toward her and all she could do was look down at it hesitantly. She couldn't figure out how many calories was in it, whether she should run it off later, what it was exactly...Her mind was suddenly a whirlwind of accusations and confusion so when Gia spoke up again, she was thankful for the change in topic.
But hearing the words, Louie's eyes wavered. Was it weird when Clara suddenly came up in her mind? Yeah, probably. She was dead...She was gone for good. There was no use in thinking about her anymore right? No use thinking about her golden skin, the way she always seemed to smell like the beach, her long dark locks, her giggle whenever Louie did something stupid, how she looked like when she was sleeping...Like nothing in the world could ruin her perfect slumber...Fuck. As quickly as she came though, she pushed the thoughts and memories away, locking it up into a box. Only one person knew about her and Clara and that was Bennie, her younger brother and, as of late, the only person she could seriously talk to and relate to on some kind of level.
So instead of commenting on the little note, she opened her side and arched an eyebrow at the curly writing, "Ask Gia to go out and chill sometime," she smirked, pretending to be slick about it. Obviously it didn't say that. In fact, it said Don't Forget Me which freaked her out so damn much she was ready to throw the desk out the window, figuratively of course because Louie was the furthest from a violent person, "I think the other one says you should say yes...You should listen to it...It's bad luck not to," she was being silly and corny as she always seemed to be but it was just what made her lovable and Louise Edna Vanderbilt. The fact that she didn't care much if she made a fool of herself was probably the only quality people seemed to like in her. Probably because it proved to be entertaining.
She liked this Gia girl. She couldn't put her finger on it as to why exactly other than the physical because she didn't know her well enough but she wanted to know more about her...Wanted to know what made her tick and if she said yes to going out to chill sometime, she knew the perfect place to go and she was pretty sure she would like it too. Plus, she would get away from her mother, Ms. De Luca, and Leo for a bit which she definitely needed. She didn't want to get married or have kids any time soon-or ever really. She had to adopt a kid from Thailand not have her own. It was on her bucket list. Marriage and Leo weren't. Plus-chicks before dicks.
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Post by gia brigitte leviton on Apr 26, 2010 17:04:39 GMT -5
She resisted the urge to blush at the mention of old money, uncomfortable in most areas where she lacked, and yet strangely confident in her abilities with this stranger. Abilities to do just what, she had no idea, and she really didn’t care much to investigate her own point much further. Instead of otherwise responding, Gia merely nodded offhandedly as if it didn’t interest her, but in reality it did - she was extremely curious as to this girl’s opposition to the crowd that seemed to rule over everything and everyone, the people who she insisted weren’t worthy of her time and she usually evaded them. Until, of course, her last name was obvious and then it wasn’t possible anymore. Brushing a strand of hair out of her own features, she nodded again, the same response but more resolute and obvious this time. “It’s Erin Wasson x RVCA. Could be worse, right? I don’t really know labels.” but she did know that she was, indeed, wearing something straight off the runway. She’d always been fashion inclined, but the winter months helped her considerably in that department and now was no exception to that general rule. Knitting her fingers together a bit subconsciously, she glanced down at her palms in her lap momentarily before bringing her eyes back up to rest on the figure across the table from her. “And what’s wrong with expensive clothes? Really, you pay for the craftsmanship, the lasting. It’s good quality stuff.” she didn’t have to make excuses for this girl and her strange behaviors, so she wasn’t going to, but really.. She had the money, and she donated her allowance to charity because sometimes she thought it would be better if she didn’t, but what she didn’t rid herself of, she indulged. There was nothing wrong with buying a nice jacket, and now this complete stranger had her doubting her reasoning and rights, without even trying. Undoubtedly, she had no intention of doing so, but Gia was fragile and had to be handled with care, or her ideals could be changed very, very easily. It was scary and rapid and it hurt, but only sometimes. Only, usually, when it came to money.
Languages, now that was a topic she could focus on if she really wanted to. Gia was fascinated by the world’s ability to make new people and new places just by switching the made-up language in which they spoke. How did they remember all that shit? How did they possibly come up with a word for poop, and why did they do that? And why did they tell other people about it? It was such an interesting part of humanity, and she found herself enamored with several subjects, including French, some vague Spanish, a couple of Russian and Yiddish words, dialects of English, slang terms in different predominantly English countries.. French was her favorite. “Je parle francais,” she stated, “Et Vous?” but she wouldn’t elaborate much more than that, because it didn’t feel like the right moment. A sudden, claustrophobic impulse pushed through her body as soon as t he words were out of her mouth, and she had to place her fingers against her petal-pink lips to keep from throwing up; the confines around her were too, too tight. Like the walls were closing in. “A bientot,” she stated hurriedly, shoving away from the table and making it outside before her fingers were grappling with the edges of a trashcan and she was heaving the contents of her lunch into the bag. Thank god they’d made that a requirement of Italy, putting the trashcans on every corner. She stopped all motion for a moment, wiping her forehead absently and shivering a bit in the cold. It was just..
As soon as Louie had brought up how she should like girls, and complemented her and all that shit, even if she had some slight idea where all of that was going because of the stupid, stupid pick up lines and just.. The possibility that she had been willing - no, that wasn’t that right word - eager to go with her had made her queasy, and then the smell of the bakery wasn’t any better. It was like she’d been shoved into a dark, deep tunnel and she hated confined spaces. So, so much. Her brain wasn’t functioning over the attraction and she couldn’t help but feel like she’d made a huge mistake in almost flirting with a girl. It would be different if she had intended on doing that, but she hadn’t. The behavior, so unlike her, had just come out in a string. She was… confused. It hurt her head far too much. Swallowing heavily, she wrapped her arms around her slender midriff and started the long, long walk back to the school.
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