[&&WantTo] - Alex

[Sasha Cole]

He was actually surprised when she said she’d go back to his place. He shrugged before pulling his helmet over his head and pushing the visor down, making sure she did the same. His hair? Do you think he cared? It wasn’t like it could get messed up any more than it was already, but it was a good thing he could very easily get away with the messy look. He wasn’t going to fight with it every morning; do you think he was really that crazy? He sighed deeply as he waited for her to get on behind him, keeping it perfectly balanced with his feet down on either side of the vehicle. How couldn’t you love one of these? They made you feel so free, not to mention the gas mileage was something to be envious of. Sure, they could be a little dangerous, but if you knew how to control it, what could you really say?

Her weight, in fact, was easily felt on the motorcycle, weighing it down. Even the slightest shift in weight could be felt. In fact, if the saddle bag was off balance it could pull the whole thing off; make it a pain to ride. She was thin, that he had been able to tell, but he wouldn’t call her anorexic. He knew anorexia when he saw it; many of his friends had the disease, sadly enough. Zoey was the worst of the bunch. She was about 5’8” and it was rare for her to even hit the one hundred mark. She was always in and out of hospitals for her condition and was a constant worry to them all. The really sad thing is she knew of her problem, but just couldn’t help it no matter how much she tried. She had home problems, the poor girl. After looking at her father he knew he should really stop complaining as much as he did.

When it came to him, he knew he should eat more as well. The only thing that kept him at the correct weight was the fact he was so muscular, but unlike some, it was because finding time to actually eat was tough. That and he had no drive to find food half the time. The thing was, he knew it wasn’t healthy and sooner or later she was going to as well. Eating was a necessity of life, get over it and get used to it. If you had a quick metabolism you should eat more, and sooner or later she was going to learn that, for this wasn’t healthy, at all. Let’s just say that when you were with him, you were going to eat. He had one too many of his past friends actually die of malnourishment to let anyone else get away with that stupidity.

“You’ll want to hold on,” he said, not looking back at her. He waited to make sure she had a good grip before starting the motorbike and pivoting around his foot carefully to get back on the road. He was a guy; ergo his driving was kind of restless. That was not to say his driving was at all dangerous. He knew exactly what he was doing, though the extra weight made him think a little more about it all. Zach had been a good teacher when it came motorbikes. Sasha sighed at the thought of him before pushing it all away from his mind. The poor guy had a few hard knocks through his life hadn’t he? That’s just what you get for being part of a gang, isn’t it?

It didn’t take long before he pulled into the apartment’s parking lot and stopped in a spot well away from the actual building. Going around looking for a good spot to park just proved you were lazy, and that was the last thing Sasha was, now wasn’t it? Both feet fell from the side of the bike and were placed on the ground to keep the machine from falling. He kicked the stand back down and stopped balancing as much. Pulling the helmet from his head he jerked his crown to the side.

“Get off,” he stated, almost lazily. Once she responded to his request he got off as well, pulling the key from the ignition as he dismounted. The key was kept in his hand was he hung his helmet on the handle bar and pulled off his gloves before looking to her. “I’ll take that stuff,” he said, trying to force a smile, but it really didn’t work. It had to be put away just right, otherwise it would drive him crazy. The curse of OCD. Sadly, it had gotten worse over the years as well. He looked over to the building and once again sighed.

So, it wasn’t the best building in LA, but it was okay for him. The place may be small, but that was only a good thing. The smaller it was the less cleaning he found himself unable to stop doing. That and he didn’t have the money for anything bigger, but that was really okay as well. He gave her a quick glance before just shaking his head. This could get interesting, to say the least.

[ALEX KING.]

She wasn't going to pretend it wasn't true. She hadn't the slightest idea how again she was supposed to ride one of these things. She merely listened to his words, and did as he told. Why bother arguing? The only thing that would lead to was her face against the asphalt. She was actually rather glad for the visor, knowing the wind that rushed by as they rode along would probably impede her from keeping her eyes open, and right now, that was the last thing she wanted. She took in the scenery, looking past the other automobiles, towards the horizon. It was such a difference, between Denver and Los Angeles. No mountains, just oceans. Of course, there was still smog. People thought she was crazy when she smiled at the sight of it. It was just one of those memories, one of the things that actually made her feel better. Home was something good, no matter what memories were tied with it.

Her mother had never been one for stitching or knitting, or anything like that. But she’d had one of those little embroidered framed, err, things, that hung in the bathroom. She’d made it herself, and it sported that famous quote Home is Where the Heart Is. Tacky? Well, yes. Tacky and corny to say the least. She’d never really appreciated it until moving. Now she missed it, almost. Missed the messy stitches that seemed to go everywhere, the attempted embroidery of a home that she and her mother had believed looked more like a jumble of thread. She’d never exactly been homesick until recently, never really given it much thought. But now the thoughts hit her over the head, and she tried to make them go away, let herself fall subject to the roaring wind and exhilaration brought on by this ride. And she was able to, something she hadn’t expected. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

She tried not to concentrate too hard, and yet not let herself be thrown about. The last thing she wanted was to be lazy and lean to one side, and have the bike go flying in one direction. She knew little about automobiles in general, motorcycles being included in her umbrella of lack of knowledge. But if there was one thing she knew, it was not to go leaning around everywhere. It may be obvious, but at least she knew it.

She almost rather enjoyed the rest of the ride, small grin stretching across her face. She bit her lip shortly thereafter, startled by it at first. The wind bit through her layers of clothing, whipping fiercely. But she didn’t mind it. It was invigorating, almost. But she didn’t whoop, didn’t holler, didn’t do anything ridiculous. She recalled watching television shows where girls would ride on the backs of motorcycles, standing up with their arms in the air. It was stupid, dangerous, and not very much her sort of display. She may grin from time to time, and that was saying something, but she never actually whooped.

Some people might be offended by the way he told her to get off as they arrived at his building. They might think it rude, might think it rather bossy. Alex, however, didn’t find it either of those things. To her, it was merely something to do, not an order. She did so willingly, taking off her helmet, her head feeling strange and unprotected as she handed it to him carefully, along with the jacket. His smile was fake, but it didn’t quite bother her. She shrugged it off. She forced smiles too many times to count. It wasn’t something to hold against anyone. Of course, it was hard to explain that to most people. They thought you were just trying to mock them, mock their displays of compassion or something. But with her, it wasn’t really all that thought out. It was an impulse.

She surveyed the building quickly, trying to snap mental images to go over later. She didn’t feel like scrutinizing. She wasn’t up to dealing with herself, as pathetic as that sounded. She just wanted to step out of her bubble of selfish depression and let herself go. Even if only for one night. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

[ ooc. meh. Short. Weak muse x.x ]

[/blockquote]

[Sasha Cole]

As he got his extra stuff in his arms he gave her a thankful look before slipping the helmet into one side of his bag before folding the jacket carefully along obvious creases and tucking it into the other side before zipping it all up once he was satisfied with how it all looked. Checking over his ride one last time, to make sure everything was okay he jerked his head for her to follow and started off towards the building. He hadn’t taken his own jacket off, hadn’t even unzipped it, and the gloves were still held firmly in his palm. Both went inside with him every night, they were too important to him to just have it all be stolen one night.

Slate orbs turned to her and he smirked, “So, what ‘cha think?” he asked, nodding back to the motorcycle that sat at the edge of the parking lot. The helmet had done close to nothing to his hair, but what else could one really do to it? It was a complete mess all the time so little about it bothered him anymore. He listened to their feet echo against the concrete parking lot, as if it was a band that he actually enjoyed, which he knew was close to impossible.

Sasha just wasn’t fond of music, but he had never been able to figure out why. He just thought why listen to this noise blaring in your ears instead of sitting in silence, being completely alone with your thoughts, even if you didn’t really agree or encourage what was going on in your mind. He didn’t sing or hmm or whistle for anything except to get the attention of a horse. Call him crazy for whatever, but he just found it all rather annoying. The lyrics were almost always kind of crazy and meant nothing except to get you in a certain mood, but if you couldn’t do that yourself you were just the stupid kind of person who would listen to the stuff in the first place now weren’t you? ((just note, not my opinion in the least, just Sasha’s, lol))

Pulling the door open he let her walk through before moving through the barrier himself. “This way,” he said, jerking his head again as he led her down a hallway and to a stairwell. He started going upwards, kind of forgetting that she may actually prefer to use the elevator to get to the sixth floor on which his apartment sat. His father had always taught him that using things such as elevators were just for the people who couldn’t use their own two feet, and this was coming from someone who walked with a limp from an injury. Sasha couldn’t help but see his point, even now when using stair was nothing more or less than a complete habit.

He let the walk there be in silence as he just led her there, going where he was by muscle memory. Who wouldn’t know where they were going by now? Six floors later he led her down a hallway again. It wasn’t luxurious or anything, but it wasn’t as if he lived in a place that was only twenty dollars a week where no one ever cleaned. Do you think he would be able to stand that at all? Leading quite a bit down he stopped by a door and pulled out his key before slipping into the door and unlocking it quickly, pushing it inside and pulling the key back to him. He moved inside and waited for her before closing the door and locking it behind them both, once again out of nothing but memory.

“Well, make yourself at home, just don’t move anything,” he scoffed and let his eyes roll to the top of his head. He couldn’t remember how bad his disorder had actually been at when they had known each other, but he knew he had it and that she would probably remember how he was about it all, but it was just an assumption. Slipping his feet from his shoes he pushed them right by the door, straight and on a mat before leaving them both as they were to his liking. He then walked over to the small dining table and pulled his jacket off and let it rest on the back of a chair, one of only two, and straightened it before setting his gloves on the table, one on top of the other, then turning back to look at her.

The apartment was indeed small, but livable. It only consisted of a living room, dining room and kitchen area, bathroom and of course a bedroom. Walking in you saw the living room, complete with a matching couch and chair. The couch was looking at you and the chair was kind of diagonal to the couch. Both were facing a TV with a coffee table between them. The kitchen area was behind this, the appliances directly and the table and chairs he stood by off to the right a bit. On the right side wall was a door that was closed, but led to his room and one to the left led to the bathroom, beyond that the place was empty, but did have a little extra room about it all. All of the furniture came with the apartment, which Sasha was only glad for, but anything that didn’t come along hadn’t been bought so it was all rather empty. He spent as little time as he could here, so why bother anyway? And that was his home.

Home, well maybe we should go with house. If home was where the heart is Sasha had no clue where his home was. Minneapolis was only where his friends were, not his heart and beyond that, what could he really think of? France? He hardly remembered it; just that he liked it and missed it. There was really nothing to say about all the places he had lived except that they had had been dreadfully different. Scoffing the thought was pushed away, he’d find out where his “home” was when he found out where his life was going, no sooner so let’s keep his goals reachable for the time being, eh?

Walking to the kitchen he grabbed a small brown box and brought it over to her, opening it up and offering it to her, “Here, take one,” he said nodding to the box. Inside was an assortment of cookies, brownies and other simple baked goods. It looked much like a care package to be truthful. “I’m expecting another box soon, I’ve got to finish these off,” he smirked and nodded, showing she didn’t really have much choice in the matter. “They’re great, remind you of home I’m sure,” he shrugged before looking over his shoulder for some unknown reason. The really sad thing, these were from Zoey, his anorexic friend. She loved to bake and did so to get her mind off everything, too bad she just sent it all off to him instead of eating it herself, huh?

[ALEX KING.]

[ ooc. wooo! numero 100 xDDD ]

Alex had always been a fan of music, actually. Not anything “hip,” like rap or hip hop or pop. She was only interested in music that had a point to it. Words that meant something. If the lyrics were crap, then there was no point to the music. But if there was some sort of advice, some sort of point under the strum of the guitars and crash of the drums, then she figured it was actually worth listening to. In fact, people needed to listen to it. Maybe it was the only way to get anything through their thick heads, to engrave it through their mindless music.

She’d been different, actually, when she was younger. She’d listen to whatever was on the radio, whatever had a good beat and wasn’t obnoxious. Of course, most music from the nineties was rather obnoxious. But, she seemed to like it then. Now, she merely frowned at it. Her mother had been quite the music fanatic. She’d even seen a picture where her mother had put her in a Beatles bib. John Lennon had been right below her chin, getting smothered in liquefied apricots with Paul, Ringo, and George. There had been a huge collection of CD’s in the King’s apartment, which usually wandered out of Alex’s carefully arranged stacks and left under Diet Coke cans on the coffee table.

She caught his glance, and the corner of her mouth twitched for a second or two. It was something close to a smile, but still more of an acknowledgement than anything else. It was one of the closest things to a smile you could get from her, a little crooked, but sincere. Most might mistake it for a twitch, just some sort of spasm of her facial muscles, merely because they figured she was not the smiling type. But she had a feeling he’d know it wasn’t. She never really twitched. Flinched, yes, but that was entirely different.

He asked her about the bike, and something like a smirk tried playing at her features. One eyebrow raised. It’s a nice bike, she stated, comfortably, but earnestly. Of course, it was coming from an ignorant girl. She didn’t know what constituted nice and awful, what was considered good and what was considered crappy. But the ride was smooth, and it hadn’t made any sort of strange noises or leaked smoke. So it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Things were quiet, their footsteps the only noise against the concrete of the parking lot. Of course, there was the rumble of other cars, but it was more of a murmur, cut by the sharpness of shoe meeting ground. Sadly, her mind added the soundtrack of rainfall, the splash of feet into puddles, the blare of a siren, and her own angry scream. The sound of her footfalls were morphed in her mind, quickened and distorted, his own doing the same in her ears. Two people running. The man running from her. She frowned, trying not to hear the two words she’s gone as she followed him to the steps. She was sick of remembering, sick of her mind playing tricks on her. She’d gone through enough thought about such for the day, mind pinging slightly, as if to remind her of his speech earlier. Pftttt. As if she could forget.

The whole thing was pushed away as she started up behind him. She was actually relieved he hadn’t taken her to the elevator. She and her mother had used to use it at home occasionally, only to bug a few passers-by by singing or feigning a fear of elevators. Funny, now that she thought about it. She hadn’t actually been faking it when it came to the fear. She truly didn’t like being confined in the small space, thin metal cables dragging her up or down. It was unsettling, the very thought about it. And climbing stairs cleared her mind. There were certain things, certain activities that brought intense clarity, a few precious moments of having everything be so clear and bright, her senses taking in everything. An adrenaline rush, you could say. Anything that brought such a rush upon oneself would do the trick. Your heart would begin to pound, blood rush, head spin. But then it would all freeze, and you’d be left with the truth. She’d known people who’d taken either a knife or their own fingernails to their skin, hoping for that truth. They were seeking that clarity with such devotion that they were willing to harm themselves for it. She would much rather take the stairs, honestly.

The building wasn’t dirty, wasn’t rundown. It was hardly something you’d find in as the site of a drug bust. She rather preferred the lack of frivolity, coming from a girl whose living situation was in the Hilton. Everything there came with an unnecessary flourish, which got on her nerves. She didn’t see the point in wasting time and energy for something that was so ridiculous. But here there was none of that. It was an apartment building, not the hangout of Paris and her male friends. Which, by the way, she could hear quite clearly as they rode the elevator to the private penthouse. Sickening when you’re trying to catch a precious few winks of sleep, or in the middle of studying for a midterm or final. If she hadn’t gotten a paper done because she’d fallen asleep at the computer, she couldn’t seem to explain to her professor that it was all Paris’s fault. It did sound rather ridiculous, she would admit. But it was a pain. Why didn’t she move? Habit, maybe? Or maybe it was more that she had people do her laundry for her. Yes, the latter sounded better. It may be lazy, but it was so convenient.

She stepped in through the doorway carefully, blinking, and holding her eyes closed for perhaps a little while longer than normal, opening them once she had stepped out of the doorway. She was rather relieved to find the place clean, but she hadn’t really expected. True, she remembered he’d been slightly obsessive-compulsive during high school. The few times she’d actually seen him in class, his things had been rather nicely organized. Organization was really something Alex appreciated. It was so much simpler to deal with things when they were organized. Her mother hadn’t really gotten that whole idea, always leaving her things everywhere. Alex had managed to keep the apartment in order, though. Thank God.

It really wasn’t any smaller than her own room at the Hilton, not ridiculously large and taking up so much space, but not uncomfortably small. Carefully, she lowered herself onto the couch that faced her, taking his words in and trying not to move anything. She felt a bit awkward at first, considering for the first time why she’d suggested his apartment. Curiosity, she supposed, but she could never be sure. She figured it was just best not to think about it. Slowly, though, her muscles relaxed, and she didn’t sit quite as upright against the cushions. His words caused her to look up, realizing she’d been lost in her own thoughts. He was soon near her, extending a box of baked goods. A part of her told her not to take one, but she was in fact hungry. She’d lost her appetite after putting the spaghetti and meatball dinner for the seniors at the hospital into the blender, and hadn’t eaten the whole day. The fact that she was still running amazed her. She didn’t know what was fueling her body, but she didn’t much care to think about it. She let out another crooked half-smile, half-smirk, taking a cookie. Thanks, she said quietly.

He spoke of home, and her expression returned briefly. She waited to make sure he was finished speaking before her mouth seemed to connect with her mind without her knowing it, and spoke. I'm a horrible cook, she admitted, looking down at the round food item in her hand. If I tried to bake anything, she smirked a bit, almost laughing at the thought, I'd probably end up having to put out a fire or something.

She shoved a torn of piece of cookie into her mouth, letting the taste flood her mind rather than reliving the whole thing again. But these, she added after swallowing, are definitely much better than anything I could bake. So perhaps it wasn’t the most intelligent things she’d said that night, not that she’d said all that much. But it was true, and she found herself almost wanting to eat more. But she merely tore off another bit of the cookie, taking it one bit at a time. That was the best way to take things—slowly. If you rushed, you didn’t get to appreciate everything as much. If you rushed, you were bound to get yourself into trouble.

[/blockquote]

[Sasha Cole]

He didn’t really understand her reaction to the ride. It was nice? He had actually been asking if she had enjoyed riding it at all. Most people he had met did quite like that free feeling you got when going sixty miles an hour on an open topped vehicle that you had so much control over, but that was only after they could get over the apparent dangers of such a ride. Sasha could easily vouch for that. The outside of both his calves were scared well up from falling and he had actually broken his right at one point because he had fallen upon his leg. Then again, Sasha didn’t mind at all. He put very little price on his life now, he just didn’t care anymore.

He smirked as she took a cookie before walking back and grabbing one for himself, closing the box once again and pushing it to the corner, making sure it was how he liked it and so it wouldn’t prod at the back of his mind before walking back over. He took his own seat on the couch, the far cushion. He sighed as his eyes ran over what sat on the coffee table. Am advanced French book, over which sat a beginner Arabic one both pushed to the far corner and balanced carefully. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting company tonight.

He didn’t like people questioning his knowledge of tongues. He always got questions that consisted of about one word, usually “why?” and he found himself rolling his eyes. Why did people find it so weird? He knew he didn’t really seem the type to simply enjoy learning different languages, but you would enjoy anything you were good at and this was obviously something that no one could deny him of. He looked over to Alex before pushing it to the back of his mind, knowing full well that she did in fact like the fact; they had just gone over that earlier tonight.

He watched as she ate it, not touching his own though he knew he should. He didn’t eat as much as he really should, but he just never got the drive to put food in his mouth when he did have time and when he was hungry he didn’t have the time to do it at all. She seemed to like it, which was a good thing he guessed and his assumption was soon proven as she spoke. Now she seemed to open up a bit, which was only making things easier for him.

Why did he care about carrying on this conversation so much? That, in his mind, was quite the simple question. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t just a sex crazed idiot most men out there just seemed to be, especially men his age. The poor guy had obviously matured way beyond his years and the woman obsessed stage most men were in at this point in his life was behind him. Sure, he did enjoy the random night of fun but he also didn’t go looking for it. It was hard for him to put into words but in the end he wanted to leave a better impression on her than the guy who hardly remembered her except for the sex they had while he was seeing another girl.

He listened to her talk before nodding in agreement, not to her being bad, for how would he know, but saying these were good. Finally he pulled off a part of his cookie and popped it into his mouth. Chewing it slowly he finally got it down his throat before glancing over to her again, forcing something that could be a smile, he supposed. It wasn’t really quite there just yet, he was still working on the whole show emotions thing and it would probably still be a while, he had to admit.

“Yeah, a friend of mine makes ‘um,” he said, giving a small shrug as he pushed more of the treat into his mouth. “She loves baking, just sends ‘um to me almost weekly. I guess I never really go hungry,” he smirked at her again before looking out in front of him once again. His slate eyes closed for a moment. Did that mean he trusted her? No, not at all. He didn’t trust, even after that little lesson he didn’t trust. He was just one of the few people out there who had taught himself well enough to actually be able to say the words.

“You can help yourself to them,” he added, jerking his head to the counter, “just put it back if you would.” Once again he scoffed. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t stand things out of place but he found it better to ask the people here to actually put things where they found them again than find himself not being able to talk because he was cleaning. He sighed deeply and just smirked over at her one last time before leaning against the back of the couch as he finished off the baked good in his hand. Lazily his arm came up and ran over the top of the couch, not thinking about the movement at all.

“So, you suggested this,” he said, motioning around the room with his free hand. “Any reason why?” he asked, glancing to her once again. No matter what it may have sounded like, he did not mean that in any way. He was merely interested in knowing what she had planned and if she had any extra questions now that she saw where he lived. Reaching into his pocket again he pulled out his phone again and checked the time. Eight o-clock, he had time but he would have to leave the house in an hour to make sure he got back in time. He just hoped it could make it sound natural when he asked her to leave. After knowing this thought, it was only obvious noting was planned.

((Once again, sorry for the delay. School is really starting to get to me))

[ALEX KING.]

[ ooc. i aplogize for the ridiculously long wait. shouldnt happen again ]

being like totally redone. new post coming as soon as i finish homework.

There was a certain feeling most people feel, and Alex happened to feel it quite often. It was that constant sensation of either not knowing what to say, or that of which saying the exact opposite of what one meant. The inability to bring thoughts to words, some might say. Or the constant feeling of having one’s foot in one’s mouth. That might be another way to say it. Whatever you call such a feeling, it was one Alex knew well, experienced constantly. She was unable to put her thoughts into audible ideas, leaving a jumbled mess of words, which no one wanted to sort through. So she was left with them, trying to figure out what to say, taking longer than one could imagine, as slowly everyone drifted away, bored and tired of waiting. And finally, once she knew what it was she wanted them to get out of the entire conversation, everyone was gone, sick and tired of what seemed like her mind games. So she was left with thoughts again and again.

Eyes flickered up from her cookie as he spoke, listening to him talk about the origin of the cookies. She felt something similar to envy for a fleeting moment, the fact that he still kept in touch with those he had known from before. But she scolded herself almost instantly. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had the ability to keep in touch; she’d merely pushed everyone away. She wondered some days why she’d done this, why she’d insisted that none of them would understand. It was just her inclination to be so self absorbed. And when she’d tried to reconcile, they’d had enough with her. Honestly, she couldn’t blame any of them all that much. She would never deny the fact that she was difficult, somewhat obnoxious as well. Hell, she could hardly stand herself sometimes. It seemed petty to expect other people to have to deal with it as well.

She always blamed herself. It was second nature to her, just as simple as blaming someone else, yet so much more natural. It was human nature to seek a scapegoat, and for Alex, it was so much easier to use herself than go through the trouble of finding someone else. There were so many things about herself that she found fault in. Perhaps the fact that she should have just eaten whatever was in her own kitchen at home rather than ask for Wendy's that night. Or that she should never have pushed anyone away, should have let them console them. Or that she was so self centered, thinking 'woe is me,' when really, she should be helping others with their losses. Not everything was about her, and she knew that. But it felt so much more gratifying to convince herself everything was about her. It was her fault, for instance. Her emotions always managed to find themselves jumbled. She was selfish, true, yet she always wanted to make everyone else happy. She tried to make herself happy, but in truth, she was only happy when she'd made everyone else happy. It was just another one of the things she couldn't even begin to explain.

She let her eyes focus on the book that sat on the edge of the table, taking in the title quickly. Arabic, eh? She wondered for a brief moment why she had never taken up the idea of learning other languages as well, but the thought of herself trying to engrave it all in her head was laughable. True, she had done well in Greek and Latin at school those years ago, but now it was all pushed back, hazed over, as if her brain had classified it as something unnecessary. No, she hadn’t forgotten it. Her memory was sharper than most, but it highlighted only certain things, certain things which had been ordained as needed. Others were pushed back, still there, but not as prominent. And the thought of digging through her head to relearn the languages only made her dizzy.

She seemed to remember things through images, rather than sounds or smells. Each memory played on some sort of screen in her mind, like a movie of sorts, but it could not be paused, fast forwarded, or rewound. It just played each time she blinked, a subtle reminder of times passed. And as she continued to slowly pick at her cookie, their whole… situation from the past flickered through her mind. She didn’t hold it against him, not at all really. It seemed more of her own sort of personal flaw than any fault of his. True, she had little respect for most men, the ones that hung around any place women resided, shooting off pathetic ‘compliments,’ expecting just one simple corny phrase to get themselves a woman wrapped around their finger. But he—no, she knew he didn’t see it that way. At least, it didn’t seem like he would.

And the fact that his apartment was clean was quite a relief. She hadn’t expected it to be messy, per se, but she knew so many males that, once they had moved out, let their whole living situation go to ruin, until they married and had their wife pick up after them. So, maybe that wasn’t the case with everyone she knew, but the fact that she did know people who had this frame of mind was disturbing enough. It showed no responsibility, no respect. But she wasn’t one to preach about respect.

As he asked about her motives, she bit absentmindedly on the inside of her cheek. She thought for a moment, from why she’d gone to the beach to why she’d struck a conversation up, to why she’d suggested coming back to his apartment. There were certain ideas that her mind constructed, but each time she considered vocalizing one of them, it sounded odd. She didn’t think they’d make any sense in anyone else’s ears. Like the fact that the ocean to her was so intimidating, and that was why she always went there to think, yet after a while she just couldn’t handle the reality check. Could that possibly make sense to anyone else? She doubted it, and so she searched harder for more to say.

She gave a small shrug, emitting a soft sigh, before letting a smirk tease at the corners of her mouth for a fraction of a second. She looked up from her half eaten treat, blinked, and parted her lips, saying, Curiosity, maybe? Perhaps it was only a fraction of the true answer in the scheme of things, but it was the truth any way one looked at it. Truth be told, she'd been called nosy before, always managing to get her nose into things it didn't belong in, whether she wanted to know these things or not. She'd wanted to see where he lived, and a part of her had more questions to ask. They were all irrelevant, more towards opinions than facts. She always wanted to know people's opinions, whether they were classic, thoughtless, or quite controversial. Something about the workings of other human minds fascinated her. In fact, it was the beginnings of her thesis statement for her college graduation, a work she'd started as soon as she'd been accepted. People fascinated her, even if she herself was not all that good at dealing with them now. Each one was so different, and yet in ways the same. It all made perfect sense in her mind, the crazy twisted mind it was.

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