Ridgeville

The light started shining through my apartment window. I buried my head under the pillow. That didn't stop the light from becoming brighter with each passing minute.

"Stupid east facing window," I mumbled. I looked at my alarm clock. "Monday; 5:30 a.m." I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I stood in front of my closet trying to choose my outfit for the day. The weather channel had said it was going to be hot today. I mean, I already knew what I was going to wear. I grabbed my multi-colored hoodie, a plain white t-shirt and light denim capri pants that were splattered with a bit of yellow paint. I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bag, an apple and walked out the door.

By the time I reached Main St. it was 6:30. There were hardly people on the street and just the occasional car. I walked across the street to Starbucks. Thankfully it was open 24/7. There were a few people sitting here and there on their laptops or phones or attempting to catch five more minutes of sleep. I ordered my usual (venti iced mocha frapucino w/ whip cream and chocolate drizzle) and then took my usual seat in the corner of the shop and pulled out my sketch book. It was a bit worn but was still surviving. It would probably be about half an hour or so till he walked in.

I didn't mind waiting. I was working on this piece, sketching this guy that worked here. It was turning out pretty good. "I hope he doesn't have a day off today," I mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. The sweet chocolaty caffeine reached my lips and I smiled contently.

He was very attractive and at first had surprised me when I found out he was a guy. He had a very feminine looking face. He was tall, with a very slender build. His eyes were sort of a gray-blue eyes with short, fair eyelashes, and surprisingly dark eyebrows. Honestly, his eyebrows had really surprised me. I still hadn't gotten the courage to ask him his name. He was never there when I got there; he always came after.

It wasn't that I was interested in him. Well, I was, but not in that sense. In an artistic sense. I took another sip of my coffee and put in my headphones. It would probably be a while till he got to work and I didn't have to be at work today.

The kids in the upper apartment made so much noise that it woke me up. It wasn’t that hard, the walls were so thin that you could even hear a pin drop. "Time to wake up," I murmured and got up. I went to the bathroom to get a shower, as I started the water I put my hand under the running water to check for the temperature; there wasn't hot water this morning either. It was a good thing that I took a shower the night before, now, I will have to wait till the hot water comes back somewhere in the afternoon.

I got dressed and took the guitar case from the side of the bed, along with my backpack and headed out. I didn’t bother to lock the door; there was nothing to steal anyway. It was a bit more than two months since I started renting a room in this old apartment building. The walls were worn out, the wallpaper was peeling down, but it was cheap and at least I had a roof over my head. I stopped at the store to buy breakfast and coffee, and went to the payphone just outside the store, put in the change and dialed. After the third ring a woman picked it up.

"You got Crispy Dinner. How can I help you?"
"This is Mia. Is Susanne there?" I asked while playing with the phone wire.
"Just a minute,” she said and yelled for Susanne, "Your daughter.” The woman said and gave the phone to her.
"Good morning, Darling.”
"Good morning, Mom.” I felt relived. Mother was at work, this meant that she wasn’t beaten; at least not yesterday.
"Have you slept well?”
"I did. How about you? Is he still beating you?"
"Things are doing fine since he got a job. You don’t have to worry about me."
"I do worry. I know really well how he is like when thing don’t go the way he wants them to. I shouldn’t have left without yo-" she interrupted me.
"He wouldn’t let you go if I went with you, you know that really well."
"But-"
"Sorry, I’ve got to go. There are customers waiting. We’ll talk tomorrow. Be safe and don’t get into trouble, okay?"
"Okay. Love you, Mom. "
"Love you more. Bye."

I picked up the guitar and headed to the park and sat on my usual spot next to the fountain. After finishing my breakfast I took out the guitar from the case and got ready to play.

"Good morning, Ridgeville! Today too, we are looking forward to a beautiful day. Today’s topic-"
I turned off the clock and yawned. After getting up I made my bed and went to take a hot shower. Wrapping a towel around my waist I went to the kitchen. A pizza box was on the kitchen table with two un-eaten slices; I placed them on a plate and put them in a microwave to heat them up. While I waited I put on my sweatpants and a tank top. After I finished up my breakfast I went out for morning exercise, which consisted of running a couple of blocks.

I was living in Ridgeville for more than a year now, and got easily used to the city. I remember when I first arrived I was pretty confused; I even got lost while running and had to go back by a taxi. Now that I think back it was a really comical situation.

I was near the park when I felt tired so I decided to take a little brake. That park was known as the place where street performers would gather. I’ve heard of it from of my collage friends, but this was the first time that I actually stopped here. It was amazing. Guitar players playing and singing, painters drawing portraits and landscapes, there were even pantomimes. It felt like the park turned into a festival.

A particular girl got my attention. She was sitting by the fountain holding a blue guitar. She looked young enough to still be in high school and I started wondering why she was here. The classes started an hour ago, and yet, she was still here. She closed her eyes, and I felt myself completely speechless. She looked like a girl from a fairytale, like a mermaid or a fairy. Oh how I wished I brought my camera with me.

The alarm on my watch went off reminding me that I had to go home to get ready for my classes. On my way home I promised myself that when I come here again I’m going to bring the camera with me, and if I happen to see her again I’ll ask her to model for me. Hopefully she won’t find me being a creep.

Matthew Pov

"Come on Max, you never just take a day off." I drawled, tugging my sister by her arm and grabbing a pair of skateboards from the garage. Max was always working. Always trying to be better at gymnastics. Not that I was mad at her for trying her best. She just needed to take it easy some time.

"Let's just pass by school and see if anything is going on," she said, sounding a bit unnerved, "What if we miss something important? Or mom and and dad find out? Or a teacher sees? Or-"

I shoved a skateboard in her arms, leaving her with a surprised look on her face.

"Just. Take. The skateboard." she made a face at me before grabbing it from my hands.

"Fine," she snapped, "But when we get grounded for a week you're going to regret this."

I grinned at her. We'd taken an early morning dip in the ocean water. I heard that the salty sea was actually pretty good for your skin. Of course, neither one of us really cared for that. The water was cold and refreshing, and I'm pretty sure me and Max were meant to be dolphins in real life. But she didn't like it as much as I did. I was a swimmer. She, a gymnast.

"Where are we going?" She was simply following me on her own skateboard, and I figured since she didn't really have a place in mind, I could decide on my own.

"The park," I said confidently, only looking back to make sure she was keeping up. She gave me a curt nod, and so I turned back to the road in front of me.

Maxine

My brother is a cutter. He's never liked school, and it doesn't seem like that's about to change.

And today, of all days, he'd gotten me to cut with him. We were both dressed similarly, and kind of looked out of place among all the people in normal clothes.

Okay, really looked out of place. I had a bikini on, with a sweater for my temperature protection, while Matt had gone bare back with a simple pair of Hawaiin looking swim trunks, his still developing abs looking sleek with the remaining drops of salt water from the beach.

"Wait, wait," he said, stopping by a girl with a guitar, and shoving his hand in his pocket. A few seconds later, he'd pulled out a couple dollar bills of various degrees of worth.

"What are you doing?"

"Wait for her to start playing," he said motioning in the direction of the girl by the fountain. "She's really good, trust me. This will be totally worth it."



I frowned, sitting a paper cup of hot chocolate milk in front of Mishka.

"I wanted coffee," she whined, pushing the cup back to me.

"Coffee isn't good for pregnant people," I said, shaking my head and trying to ignore the bambi eyes she threw in my direction.

"Fine," she grumbled, taking a delicate sip of the hot drink.

"What's that," I pulled out a large heavy piece of paper out from under her hand. It was a light sketch, looking some of a male lion and a two cubs.

"Cute,"

"Uh-huh. I'm going to paint later." she said, slipping it back towards herself.

"Traditionally or digitally?"

"This ones going to be traditional." I nodded.

"You know," I began suggesting, jerking my chin in the direction of the girl sitting by her lonesome, "I think I've seen her doing some sketches before."

Mishka nodded, barely looking up from her paper, "Me too,"

So she already knew who I was talking about, "But I've never talked to her," she continued, gently erasing a stray mark.

I nodded, rolling the soccer ball underneath the table with my feet.

"You should, one day."

"Uh-huh, I know." I sighed. Mishka had gone into the zone.

It was early. I could tell by the light pinky glow of the sun peaking through my bedroom window. I sighed, burying my head further into my pillow, gripping its corners with both hands as I pushed my hips upwards. The stretch felt good, my muscles loosening appreciatively after a long nights sleep.

My phone hummed, alerting me to the fact that it was time to get up. 6:00am. Ugh. I hated school days. And it was...Monday? I had work too. Another groan reverberated in my throat. Monday's were not a good day. And it didn't help that I'd had another dream about her again last night. All perfect face and eyes and body. Fuck it. I raised my head and licked my lips, eyes narrowed against the glare. Whatever. It's not as if dreams really mattered anyway. No matter how many times I was bombarded with all that psychic crap, I knew they didn't mean anything. They were just your subconscious' way of torturing you at your most vulnerable. With a scowl I kicked off my covers and rolled begrudgingly out of bed, reaching for my phone and making my way to the shower. I needed to get the coffee shop before school started, and then I could back track through the park. Anything to get out of the obligatory awkward breakfast with my dad. Thankfully, he wouldn't be up for another hour.

The water was hot on my skin. It felt good. Really good. I lifted my head, letting the droplets beat against my face. I let my mind go blank. Fortunately, the good five minutes or so that I stood there, The Vaccines blasting against the tiles, all thoughts of last night were washed away with the scent of lotus flower and orange blossom. I exhaled happily, the corners of my mouth tilted upwards as I switched off the water and wound a towel around my chest, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror and grinning.

It didn't take long for me to dry myself and slip into my outfit for the day (my trusty pair of distressed denim shorts, Rolling Stones tee and fedora hat). I pulled at the ends of my hair, debating a braid, but decided against it. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I grabbed my bag off my desk and made my way downstairs. The clock in the kitchen read 6:30 and I eyed the cupboard home to the pancake mix longingly for a moment, before shaking my head and grabbing a Granola bar from the cupboard by the fridge instead. 5 minutes later and I was out on the sidewalk on my way to the coffee shop, the early morning sun warming my skin, absent-mindedly kicking the ground with my faded Chuck Taylor's as I went.

I cleared my throat as I pushed open the door to Starbucks, spotting a somewhat familiar (but not friendly) face sitting in the corner. It was girl with dark hair. I often saw her when I came in here in the mornings before school, that goddamn sketch pad always on her lap or in her hands. I eyed her for a moment before walking up to the barista and giving my order - grande mocha with whipped cream and chocolate, nibbling on my bottom lip as I waited.

I had been awake for many hours already, but I didn't want to go back to sleep. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaving enough room for Robin to expand as much as she wanted. I listened to her mumble in her sleep, calling out my name. "Kuya Dennis... I want.... Cake..." I chuckled to myself as she rolled over in her sleep.

Standing up, I quietly walked over to talk dresser and began to change. I knew how heavy a sleeper Robin was, so I didn't worry about her waking up. I changed into my casual day clothes which consisted of a light blue dress shirt and my favorite faded blue jeans. Having finished buttoning the last button on my shirt, I walked out into the hallway to my sister's room. She had hardly ever sleep in there ever since I had moved out.

Opening the door, a peculiar and familiar smell filled my nostrils. It was a sweet smell, but not so sweet as to suffocate you. It was the calming smell of lavender and chamomile. I took a deep breathe and inhaled the relaxing scent. When I finished smelling the air, I went over to her dresser and pulled out her clothes for the day. I laid them out on her bed the way she liked it and walked out of her room.

I went back to my room and looked in through the slightly open doorway. I almost burst out laughing when I saw the position she was in. Robin had totally kicked the blanket and pillows onto the floor. The lower half of her body tilted in a weird angle that allowed her to continue sleeping while her upper half was on the floor. I sighed and shook my head.

"She never changes."

Aura
The thing that woke me up was the phone ringing. "Hello?" I asked, keeping all drowsiness out of my voice. Never know who could be calling.
"Is that you, Aurelia?" A crotchety voice came out of the phone.
I inwardly sighed. Only my aunt called me Aurelia. Everyone else understood that I liked to be called Aura. "Yes, Aunt Eve, it's me. Why are you calling so early?"
"I was wondering if you were coming back over, and is it really that early?" I winced slightly. Trust my aunt to not realize how early it was here in Ridgeville, compared to my old home.
"Yeah, it is early, and no, I'm not coming back. I have a good job and I'm doing well. I like it here." I explained.
"Oh." My aunt was quiet after that, struck dumb, I suppose. Not for long, because I could hear her cat yowling in the background.
"Take care of Hercules and tell him I said hi. I've gotta get ready for work. Bye." I turned off the phone and rolled out of bed to face another day. Which hadn't started off too pleasantly.
I quickly took a shower and threw on a black, ruffled shirt and a pair of denim shorts as well as black flats. I gulped down a glass of orange juice and grabbed two slices of toast on the go before leaving for the dress shop. I still had to finish the green dress that the mayor's wife had commissioned. Personally, I thought green wasn't her color, but who am I to argue with a paying customer?
I looked at the park. It would be nice to sing for a little bit, but I really needed to finish that dress. Not to mention that I had a gig at a club in the evening. I finished my toast and walked down Main Street a little slower.

I opened my eyes and looked around. More people had accumulated into the show. I noticed a couple was looking at me. I had seen them before, but it wasn't anything that worried me. The girl was beautiful and I had meant to draw her but because of my forever waiting on him I didn't want to start a new drawing of someone from real life. She was pregnant and had a wonderful glowing look to her. Even the guy was pretty good looking.

I looked at my watch. '7:15 a.m. Would he ever show up? I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. By now it had gotten a bit weird tasting and all the ingredients were just sitting at the bottom. I shook it around a bit. That's when she walked in.

She was about a year younger than me. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. American girl, no doubt. She was beautiful. I was straight, but that girl, she made me feel weird. I just needed to know her name. My way of explaining the weird feelings was that I just had to draw her. She had one of those faces that if you drew her and messed up one thing it would throw off everything.

I noticed her looking at me. I put my head down. 'I should probably get out of here. I guess he isn't coming.' I put my sketch book in my bag and got up from my seat. I guess the park was the next best place to go.

I made sure my headphones were still in and put my head down. I knew how to get to the park without even looking. I walked down the street and entered the park. I couldn't hear any of the street performers but I knew they were there. I probably should have looked up because the next thing I knew I was bumping into a guy... A gorgeous guy.

Gabriel Falk

I didn't need the frantic beeping of my alarm clock to make something clear to me: I was late. Very, very late. I lurched out of bed, the old frame creaking, the blankets tangling around my legs. Of course, of all days, today my blankets decided to stay on my bed rather than jumping off into some random area of my room. People have told me I'm a restless sleeper, but my personal opinion is that blankets have legs, or, at least, my blanket does. 

I run into the bathroom, which luckily isn't a particularly far distance to run since my apartment only has three rooms. The nice thing about being as poor as dirt is that there is never, ever the chance of you getting lost in your own house. 

Jumping into the shower, I make the genius move of grabbing the toothbrush and toothpaste beforehand. Or, at least, it seemed genius until shampoo drips out of my hair and onto the toothbrush, where it becomes indistinguishable from the toothpaste. Note to self: Don't try that again, I decide as I set down the  toothbrush, trying not to gag. While rose scented shampoo may have smelled nice, it certainly didn't taste particularly good. 

Ten minutes later, I was finally ready, my hair having taken ages to wash. That was the one main problem with my hair: I had to wash it everyday unless I wanted it to look nasty, and it always seemed to take until the next century to actually get clean. But, hey, if that was what was necessary to do to have gorgeous, long hair, I'm fine with it.

I wrap a towel around my hair, and then a second one around my waist. I press my hand against my hip, holding the towel there. Despite being over twenty years old, I still haven't mastered the art of tying a towel around my waist and having it actually stay there. They're probably plotting with my blanket, in order to make me as late and embarrassed as possible. 

Once in my room, I quickly pull on my clothes, thanking my past self for having had the foresight to lay them out the night before. as I struggled to pull on my skinny jeans, I did that awkward little hopping dance sort of thing that comes from trying to squish your feet into the tiny holes at the end of the legs of skinny jeans. I could have sat down, but, hey, sitting was for wimps. 

I grab a hairband off my desk. Hair bands usually lived in my bathroom, but a few were roaming on the surface of my desk. They were probably breeding in the drawers. I'd have to look into that later, when I had time. For now, I quickly put my hair into a French braid. It was a style I usually reserved for formal occassions, but, since I didn't have time to dry my hair today, it would keep everything looking nice and neat. 

Quickly, I pack my violin. It had also been sitting on my desk, which confused me slightly. I usually didn't leave my violin laying around; after all, it was worth a few thousand dollars, and was something I would probably never be able to replace. Usually, I treated it like it was a god, but, I suppose I had been a bit tired last night. 

I gathered up all of my music, a towering stack about four inches high - I had quite a bit of music, ok? - and stuffed it in a bag where my folded music stand was already resting. I must say, I was rather glad to not have to fold up my music stand. I hated doing that, purely because it was so old that it would take forever to fold.

I sling the bag over my shoulder, grabbing my violing in one hand. Upon walking past the mirror, I adjust the neck of my white mandarin style blouse - one of my favourite shirts, one that I had bought from an online store, Retroscole Fashions, a while ago, when I still had the money to spare on eighty dollar shirts - and notice I bad forgotten shoes. Setting down my bag and violin, I dash back into my room. Where had my shoes gone?

Finally, I discover them lying underneath my bed. I pull the knee high black Converse boots over my black skinny jeans, lacing them up with practiced ease. Thankfully, I had been wearing these boots for a few years now - not the same pair, obviously - so I was well practised in tying them.

Finally ready, I pick up my bag and violin once again, grab my car keys off the hook, and dash out of the apartment. I think my neighbors were probably thinking I was trying to learn how to fly as I took the stairs in great leaps and bounds. Finally, I made it to the downstairs lobby, dashing outside. 

My car sat in its usual spot in front of the apartment. It was a lovely old creature, a '67 chevy impala. I wasn't a car sort of guy, but even I had to admit that my car was absolutely lovely. My parents had gotten it for me as a present a few years earlier, and I am rather thankful they did.

More than a few speed limits were broken on the way to Starbucks, I'm pretty sure, but that was ok. Nobody saw me, and I didn't hurt anyone, so I was fine. Besides, it meant that I arrived only a couple minutes too late. I pulled my car into one of the open employee parking spots, and then dashed inside, making sure to lock my car. I left my violin and music in the car, not wanting to risk any of my colleges accidentally destroying it. My violin would be hellishly out of tune by the time I got to the park, but, oh well. I could always retune it.

Walking into the store through the employee's entrance, I nodded a hello to my fellow colleges - most of which being quite a few years younger than me - and pulled on my apron that labeled me as an employee. I was rather thankful that I had worn black and white today; the colour of the apron would have clashed horridly with any of my other clothes.

Making sure my name tag was pinned to my chest - I found that customers liked to look at this, probably to make sure that I wasn't joking about my name or as a confirmation that I was actually male, since they always seemed so surprised at hearing my deep voice - I walked out front to take my position at the register. Luckily, there wasn't much of a line, although Melissa, the girl working at the register next to mine, gave me a rather annoyed glare. 

Aura
There were a lot of people in the park today. Of course, it could just be me. I recognized a few of the performers, from performing there before, but not many. And there were actually a good number of people out there, awake early on a Monday. Maybe it was just people before work. Speaking of which, I should probably hurry.
I started walking faster, opening my purse to find the extra key to the store.
"No, not those, those are the home keys...that's the car keys... Found 'em!" I muttered to myself, taking the keys out and unlocking the door to the shop. Today the shop opened up at 9:00, so I would be left alone to work for most of two hours. I locked the door behind me, and quickly walked around the counter into the back room that was expressly mine, since I worked on most, if not all, of the requests.
There was the dress that was so not the right color, on the mannequin in the middle of the room. The mayor's wife was a bit of a snob, but she paid well, and when she said she specifically wanted a pale green cocktail dress, I really couldn't refuse her. Even if I thought it was for a woman younger than her, and even if it really didn't match her skin tone.
I sighed and opened up a drawer, removing a tray of silver sequins that she also wanted on the dress. Those I'd rather not use the sewing machine for, and that meant hand sewing them on. Which was, at least for me, quite easy. I sighed and got to work.

Max and Matt; Matthew POV

“Alright,” Max gave in, giving me an exasperated look, “We’ll wait, but I swear Matthew, the instant a teacher comes by here, we are ditching this place.”

I nodded complacently, smug with my victory over her. I could understand why she was so anxious. Max wasn’t a cutter, but I was. I was used to seeing teachers walk by me, rolling their eyes in my direction, or throwing a “where were you today Mr. Bernard” question in my face. Max wasn’t. What was worse was that the park was only a few blocks distance from our school. A lot of people adored walking through here in the early rays of the morning sunlight, before school started, and teachers were no exception.

“Hey,” I began, about to suggest a probably escape route, should any of our astute instructors pass by.

“Hm?” Just as the bland answer slipped from her mouth, something soft bumped into my back. I blinked for a moment, slow and deliberate, trying to process weather or not to turn around. For all I knew, it was just an accident. But, as human nature dictates, my head eventually turned to meet the eyes…no the top of the head of the person that’d bumped into me.

Looking down, I was greeted by a pair of shy looking eyes. Well, almost greeted. The person who’d bumped into me was a girl, with a cute kind of roundish face and a pair of headphones glued into her ears.

The set of headphones that she’d stuck in ears looked familiar, like one of the many pairs I owned (neatly hanged up in a special casing in my room at our Malibu house) and so I couldn’t help myself when I said, “I have pair of headphones exactly like those. Oh, and nice sweater.”

It was the first time I’d noticed her clothes. Her pants seemed to be sprayed with paint, which gave her an overall artistic look that struck me as familiar. Where had I seen this face before?

Ah. School. Of course.

I had a few classes with the girl, whose name I failed to remember, but had barely gotten to know her due to my constant cutting streak. From what I knew, the few times I’d seen her, she always had a sketch book with her, and was pretty artsy. I’d glimpsed some of her drawing and thought they were amazing, but had never thought to actually talk to her.

I guess it comes with the ranking. This girl was quite keep to herself type of girl, where as I was the outgoing hang with the bad-boys type of guy. Of course, due to social cliques that developed in school, I’d never talked to her much. In fact, I don’t remember having ever talked to her.

“I’m Matthew,” I said casually, trying to look friendly, “We go to the same school together. Same grade. Same classes too. At least some of em’. I’m not sure I caught your name though. If you haven’t notice,” I gave her a sheepish grin, “I don’t show up often.”

Behind me, I could almost feel Max’s eyes putting holes through my back. There was no doubt in mind that she had laser vision. Jeez.

Alex and Mishka; Mishka POV

“Al,” I said, causing my sweet husband to pry his eyes from the paper.

“Hm.”

“Sweetie you’re going to be late for practice,” I was eyeing the gold antique looking clock that this particular Starbucks had hung upon the bars of it entering doorway.

“Shoot,” he said, whistling at the end as he doubled checked with his own wrist watch. I was going to with Alex for his soccer practice today. He’d jokingly suggested that the coach took it a lot easier on the whole team when I was around, and I’d figured that he’d literally meant it.

“Want anything sweet before we leave?” He asked, slipping me the keys so I could go start up the car.

“Uh-huh. Get me some cookies,” I said, shuffling my heavy set of art papers together, and heading out to the car.

Alex POV

I nodded before Mish disappeared from my line of sight. My coach would typically have my head for being late. But Mishka totally softened him up. I guess it had to do with the fact that none of his grandkids were old enough to have kids yet, and since he treated the whole team like we were his sons, he had a soft spot for our families too. Besides, he’d been on a low note for the past couple of days, and I thought having Mishka around to talk with him would help him unwind a bit. The team and I were pretty sure his youngest daughter had dropped the bomb that she wanted to get married, but none of us mentioned it to his face. He’d tell us when he was ready.

I bit my bottom lip. By the time I’d gotten on line, I’d ended up with a blonde cashier. The blonde male cashier. I, like many of the men who walked in here, had at first thought he was a woman. Boy, was I wrong. Fortunately, I hadn’t made the mistake of going up and flirting with him, since I’d already been madly in love and married to my wife. It was a bit disconcerting to see just how feminine he was, but personally I had nothing against homosexuality, or bisexuality, or any other sexuality. The reason I’d found it so uncomfortable was because I’d literally thought he was a women, and hadn’t been sure if, to him, that was a compliment or an insult.

Usually, I tried to avoid getting him as my cashier due to the awkwardice of the situation, but this time, seeing as it was inevitable, I put on my most pleasant face.

“Good morning,” I said, eyes idly passing over the cookies as I tried to decide what to get for Mish. It never failed to surprise people at how deep my voice was, or how tall I was for a person of Hispanic descent, and I caught the women at the next register give me a passing glance, before reaching a delicate hand out to me.

I looked up at her, raising my eyebrows in the “what’s your question way.”

“You model. For Armani Exchange. You play soccer. Alexander Romero, was it?” she stated matter-of-factually. I nodded, flashing a brief dazzling model smile (like they’d taught us), and she looked thrilled about the fact that she’d met an Armani Exchange male model.

Turning back to the blonde cashier, I shook my head giving a sheepish smile before saying, “Sorry about that. Um, can I have three of those huge chocolate chip cookies.” They were about the size of my hand, and no doubt enough to curb Mishy’s sugar urge, “and a bottle of water.”

I placed the money on the counter and took my coffee from the barista, flashing her a quick smile, before twisting my head to look back at the brunette in the corner. She was pretty, although not in the conventional way. All pale skin and dark hair. From where I was standing I figured she was short too. I'd seen her a lot before, and something was telling me I'd seen her around school too. But I'd never thought 'hey, this girl is hot' (probably cause she totally wasn't) but she was cute. And she'd been staring at me. Well, at least she had been, until I'd met her gaze and she'd looked away. I felt my heart swell a little, a smirk forming on my lips as I realised my ego had just inflated about tenfold. Perhaps today wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the chances of her looking at me in that way were like...minuscule, but it couldn't hurt to be a little optimistic. It felt nice to think girls looked at me in the same way so many boys did.

But when I turned around again, coffee in hand and lips pursed, she was gone. I figured as much. I took a tentative sip of the steaming beverage, eyes watering slightly as the hot liquid ran down my throat. Whatever. She wasn't even that attractive anyway. What the hell was I doing getting so worked up about it? I should be more bothered about the guy giving me the eye from across the other-side of the room. But, whatever. The coffee tasted good. I downed another two mouthfuls as I quickly exited through the door, making my way eastwards towards the park. The sun was rolling even higher, and it was surprisingly bright despite the early hour. Holding my coffee with one hand, I reached into my bag with the other, searching blindly through the assortment of school books and broken pencils until my fingers curled around the familiar shape of my sunglasses. I slipped them onto the bridge of my nose as I walked, my eyes immediately grateful for the reservation from the glare.

It was a fairly quick walk to the park from Starbucks. The familiar smell of grass and sycamore was soon attacking my senses, the vast patch of green bustling with joggers and students who happened to have the same idea as myself, stretching out in spots of yellows and white where the occasional cluster of flowers had decided to bloom. My phone buzzed. I reached for it with my free hand. It was Kira.

Calling in sick today. Sorry babe x

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Didn't we have a World History presentation to do today? Trust my 'best friend' to bail. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I took a right in the direction of the fountain, contemplating the remainder of my day. And to think it'd barely started. My History teacher and I didn't get on with each other at the best of times, and now I'd have to deal with his rage solo. Deciding to worry about that later, I instead relished in the overwhelming warmth of the sun on my legs. It was a violent contrast to the shadow of the trees, which I realised I needed to avoid walking into at all costs, unless I wanted to break out in a case of some serious goose-pimples.

But, either way, nothing beat the park at this hour. It wasn't hectic like on the weekend, or too 'couply' like in the evenings (where you couldn't walk five minutes without seeing two teenagers sucking face). It was just right, and she appreciated it's calming tranquility. It was like a protective balm, giving you a little moment of solace to distract you from the fact that your day was most likely gonna get a lot worse.

Rounding a small patch of trees, the sound of the fountain hit me like a wave of cold water. But, in a good sense. Street performers were a common occurrence around here, but there were only one or two this early in the morning. There was one really pretty girl. I saw her almost every time I came down here. Sometimes I would toss her a couple of coins, but mostly I'd just sit a few feet away on the edge of the fountain and drink my coffee. It was my thinking time. And I would be a big messy mush without it.

Except, when I finally sat down in my spot, I caught sight of Starbucks girl a little while away with some blonde senior guy I recognised from school. And he was totally hot. And so was his sister...I mean what. I blinked, cursing quietly under my breath. Although I didn't see hot senior blonde boy around as often as I used to. He was probably one of those people that thought cutting school was cool. Douche bag much? So, Starbucks girl was definitely not available. I inwardly cringed for thinking such a thing was possible and looked down at my drink, holding the paper cup tightly between my two palms.

Boy did I need a pick-me up. Oh well. School started soon. I just needed to finish my coffee and then I could leave. And maybe that World History presentation wouldn't be so bad.

Today too, there were many familiar faces at the park. Most of them were around my age, like the blond guy with skateboard, he would usually give me a few bucks. And the girl who always holds a sketchbook; I would see her sometimes drawing in the park too. I saw a couple of her drawings once when she dropped them and I helped her pick them up, it was around the time when I first came here. And I have to say she have got an amazing talent. And there was that girl too, who always sat a bit further from me with a cup of coffee in her hands and always in thoughts…Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I would wander how would it be like if I went to school with them. Would we be friends? I don’t think so. I was called a weirdo in my old school, so if I went here it would probably be the same.
I tuned the guitar and started playing the acoustic version of Guns N' Roses’ song Sweet Child O’ Mine. It was one of my favorite songs to perform in the mornings.



I didn’t like to sing too much, since I was a guitar player and not a singer, but I guess I don’t have that bad voice since nobody threw tomatoes at me, yet.
I played a few more songs then packed up; It was time for me go to work. I gave guitar lessons to the kids from the orphanage. The money I’ve earned that way was barely enough for me to pay the rent. In one of these days I’m gonna have to look for one more job.




When I arrived back to my apartment I took a quick shower. I got dressed into black skinny jeans, a white tee, put on my boots and grabbed a leather jacket along with the bag with my cameras. I was searching for my keys when my phone started ringing.
”Yo. ” I heard my friend voice.
”I’m on my way. ” I said while locking the door with one hand.
”You don’t have to hurry. The prof said that he’ll be late. ” I sat in my car and started the engine.
”Then I’m gonna stop by Starbucks for a coffee. Do you need anything? ” I could hear him talk to others.
” One Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino, two Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos and one black coffee. ” I sighed.
” I've got it. See you in a few minutes.”
I drove to the Starbuck and parked across the street. There wasn’t a big line in front of a long haired blond guy so I went to him to place my order.
” One Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino, two Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos and two black coffees. ”
As I waited for my order I wondered if the guy was working as a model too. He was very tall and had the model kind of a face.
He gave me the coffees and after paying him I got back to my car and drove to college.

I sat downstairs at the table, drinking my freshly made coffee. I'd already woken up Robin a half hour ago, and it was still taking her a long time to get changed. Just when I was putting my mug in the sink, I heard a loud thud coming from the staircase. I ran to see what had happened and saw Robin on the floor rubbing her head.

"Kuya, I think we should put a slide for going downstairs," she said to me in a small voice. I shook my head and smiled at her. "We'll see about that. Just go eat now, okay?" She nodded her head and smiled faintly. "Okay Kuya." I watched her as she walked over to lower shelf to get her favorite cereal. I walked over to the fridge and poured the milk for her. "Kuya, don't put too much like last time. You wasted a lot of milk that time." I smiled and closed the cap. "I know how much to put this time." Putting the milk back, I took another slice of chocolate cake from yesterday's random celebration. I knew how much my mom was glad to see me every time I visited.

"Hoy Robin, finish your cereal. Don't waste your food." She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. "Fine..." I took her bowl and finished the leftover milk and placed it in the sink. "Let's go to the park, Kuya." I sighed and smiled at her. "Okay."

Aura
I got up after a while. Oh, damn...if I didn't take a break soon, I'd scream. I'd sown on so many of these sequins, and there were still more to be done. I was done with about eighty percent of the dress.
I walked out, locking the door to the store behind me. Doesn't hurt to be cautious. I paused for a minute to stretch and breathe in the wonderful fresh air. I loved being outside.
"Only a half hour." I promised myself. After that, back to work on the maddening dress. The really crazy, maddening, annoyingly colored dress. The one which I would gladly rip to shreds if I had owned it.
I walked over to the park and said hello to a couple of musicians, until I heard a very familiar voice. "Hey, Fashion Police, wanna sing with me for a bit?" I heard laughter.
I looked to the side and there was Angie, who I occasionally sang with. I didn't talk with her much anymore, but did sing with her once in a while. "Hello, Angie. Making the same old joke?"
She smiled. "Yep. I'm about to play New Soul."
I smiled a little. "Fine. For old times' sake."
I walked to stand beside her as she started to pick it out on her guitar.

“I have pair of headphones exactly like those. Oh, and nice sweater.” I just stood there. This guy was actually talking to me. “I’m Matthew. We go to the same school together. Same grade. Same classes too. At least some of em’. I’m not sure I caught your name though. If you haven’t notice I don’t show up often.”

I rolled his name off my mental tongue. I knew him. He was a cutter, big time. We had about four classes together when I was still going to school. Was I that invisible that nobody noticed that I had left to do home school? I tried smiling at him, wanting to seem friendly, even though my only real thought was to run away from that place as fast as possible.

"Sam," I mumbled. I looked at him. His green eyes were beautiful... and he was shirtless. It kind of caught me off guard but I remained calm. "I could draw you, if you want." My eyes flew open. What had I just done? Why was that always the first thing that came out of my mouth when I talked to someone. Of course, I did like drawing people. They sat there, you made them be quite, told them it would mess up the drawing and then you finish and then I would disappear back into my turtle shell, as my grandma used to say.

"Sam," I said again. "I'm Sam."

Gabriel Falk
I must say, my job was rather boring. I mean, there could be worse jobs, but this one was fairly bad. Especially on morning shifts. Everyone was always either exhausted and unwilling to hold a conversation, or they were really crabby and rude. I mean, not that I didn't encounter crabby and rude people during my other shifts - there always were crabby and rude people - but they were the worst during the morning shifts. It's not like they didn't have a reason - after all, nobody, myself included, liked getting up early in the morning - but, still. They could at least try to be nice.

Feeling the urge to yawn, I quickly put my hand in front of my mouth. It would do for people to think that employees at Starbucks, people like me, were rude and didn't know proper rules of etiquette. Not to mention, I would be quite the hypocrite if I had bad manners, considering my general dislike of rude people. Besides, my teeth brushing had been pathetic at most this morning, so certainly nobody wanted to see the inside of my mouth.

I glance up upon seeing my next customer, a man who is almost too handsome to be considered human, and acted so much like a model that it was practically written on his shirt. In fact, it was about as close as possible to being written on his shirt when Melissa confirmed my suspicions: He was a model. For Armani, in fact. I may not have been interested in fashion, but even I knew Armani. You'd have to be a blind three year old to not know Armani.

"'Morning," I replied, a pleasant half-smile on my face; a smile that was just a curl of the corners of my lips, nothing more. This was the smile I used for greeting people, the smile that said 'Oh, it's nice to meet you, but it's highly unlikely we'll ever talk again, so let's just try to be friendly now and leave each other on good terms'. Well, maybe it didn't say exactly that. But it conveyed something similar, and made me look slightly friendlier, so that was good, at least.

I nod in response to his order, turning slightly to the cooler behind me to get out the water bottle. "That'll be four dollars and thirty cents. If you're willing to wait a minute or two, there will be a freshly baked batch of cookies fresh out of the oven quite soon. Of course, if you're in the rush, there are still some cookies from the last batch," I say to him. I'm not quite sure why I was saying this. Most of the other cashiers working here would have given him the cookies from the older batch without a word said.

Well, most people liked freshly baked, warm cookies that just came out of the oven, so there was no harm done in offering. Besides, there was nothing like an unexpected surprise to brighten one's day, and if there was one thing I liked to do, it was making people happy. Especially if the person in question happened to be as gorgeous as this guy. It wasn't like I was interested in him or anything - for all I knew, he probably was married or had a girlfriend or something - but, hey, I was allowed to appreciate beauty, wasn't I?

Matthew POV

I stared down at the girl for a while, scrutinizing her reaction. Well, scrutinizing whatever reaction there was to scrutinize. At first, she was real still, not much movement, just kind of….shocked, I guess.

Her eyes traveled up to mine, and for a while we had a bit of staring contest, eye-to-eye. My bright green eyes (so similar to my sister’s) were one of those outstanding features that just stood out on my face. I’d gotten a good deal of compliments about them, if I do say so myself, and I carried them proudly. She seemed to spare a passing glance for my chest, though if she thought anything about it, I wouldn’t have known. In fact, besides the silence, she didn’t really seem unnerved, nor really confident, and I had to assume she was only glorifying her eyes in the presence that was me. She gave me a shy smile, and the corner of my lips upturned.

Then came the words. Her voice was shy and quiet, and I found myself straining to hear her name. I figured I should have anticipated this much. From whatever I remembered of the girl, she’d always been quiet. Not much of a talker, and not one to speak up for herself.

I was still in the process of comprehending her name when she said, "I could draw you, if you want."

It was a prompt, almost premeditated thought, that made her intentions seem illusive and almost out of place.

Nah, I’m just joking. Actually, the offer seemed pretty innocent to me. I’d already had prior knowledge on her artistic ability, and in contrast to her bulged out, almost regretful looking eyes (which implied that she may have been having a few misgivings about asking me), I thought it was a totally cool idea.

Taken aback by her own words, she offered up her name again, as if trying to erase her previous comments from my memory.

“Sam. I’m Sam.”

“Oh,” I replied coolly, “Okay. Cool. So, Sam, maybe we could hang out some time and you could do that drawing of me? Usually, I’m down by the beach, but it gets kind of cold there, so if you have another place in mind…?”

I threw her a dazzling smile; one that I could only hope would be persuasive enough to get me a much desired drawing. Maybe, something of me in the water, or around the dolphins that claimed their home by the beach where I lived.

“And, we could hang out together. Like really hang out, not just for the drawing,” I attached to my offer tactically, waiting for her response.

Max POV

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

There he was, in all his glorifying six feet of awkwardly sewn together limbs, and old, saggy, stained skin. The glazed look in his eyes was one of those ‘fear factor’ elements that gave this morbid man his tedious and strict reputation, and students were quick to duck out of his way before he grumbled morose lectures at them about “pants being too low” or “too short”.

He was my Pre-Cal Teacher. And he was heading this way.

I spared a glance at Matthew before realizing: He didn’t effing care!

“I’m going to hide!” I hissed in his ear, to which he briefly nodded concentrating on his conversation with the home schooled artsy girl. Not that he’d even remembered that she’d dropped out to be home schooled. That’s right lady killer. You just stand there and wait for a teacher to catch your sorry ass. Not that Matthew would care, but whatever.

Forgetting about my carefree, happy-go-lucky, unicorn brother, I did one of those “think fast” moments, where I practically ripped my sweater off my body, leaving me bare in my printed Victoria Secret bikini, and draped it over the top of my head like an overgrown hood.

I saw one cute guy throw me “the look”, but I didn’t have time to respond to his antics, and so I simply blew him over, acting as though I hadn’t seen him. There would be time to reprimand my brash, pass-up-the-hottie decision later. Right now, my only thoughts were to hide from old, mean, and saggy over there.

Scoping out the area, my eyes landed on the most unorthodox escape route/hiding place ever.

I would make a bee-line for the fountain.

Without a second thought, I put those gymnastic legs of mine to work, shooting out to the fountain, just in time for Mr. Doom-and-Gloom to past me straight.

The thing was, I would have totally celebrated my success at evading my teacher. Only problem was that I was heading straight on for the fountain at an almost uncontrollable speed.

Giving myself a good leap, I ended up splashing in the fountain (still standing upright, might I add; gymnastics is a useful thing), and spraying water all over the shirt of some blonde (ha ha, not that I wasn’t some blonde myself) girl with a cup of Starbucks coffee clutched tightly in her hands.

“Jeez,” I said, blinking slowly, and grazing my eyes over her soaking wet shirt, and now rip-able looking cup of coffee.

Think fast Max. What would someone, and by someone I mean myself, do in this situation. Oh, I know.

Peeling my sweater, which had remarkably remained unscathed by the water (once again, thank you gymnastics), off of the top of my head, I offered it up to her, trying to throw in the innocent looking Bambi type eyes that didn’t match with my scantily clad body, but usually worked with the guys. Maybe she’d have pity on me and for my sake, accept the Bambi eyes and forgive the sloppy mess that I’d caused her.

“Sorry, sorry,” I drawled on, thinking up a million excuses, “Take my sweater. You can keep it. It’s brand new, I think a Hollister? Mom bought it just yesterday? It smells pretty perfume-y. Yeah, I think it’s a Hollister,” I fumbled around with the sweater as I blabbered on, checking the label to confirm the brand. I was pretty sure my mother had only picked it up yesterday, so it hadn’t gotten much wear and tear. In fact, upon closer inspection, there was a hidden tag stuck somewhere in the sleeve, and I quickly tore it off, crumpling it, and doing a basketball shot to the nearest garbage can. Score one for Max. Score zero for park patrol.

“Anyway, you can have it. I don’t really need it.” Who was I kidding? I was going to be walking around almost buck naked through the park. I was probably going to end up in Juvi for illegal exposure of too much skin in a public non-beach place. Oh well. I looked at the girl, waiting for her answer, and firmly holding out the sweater to her.

Alexander

"That'll be four dollars and thirty cents. If you're willing to wait a minute or two, there will be a freshly baked batch of cookies fresh out of the oven quite soon. Of course, if you're in the rush, there are still some cookies from the last batch."

Surprise, surprise. I raised my eyebrows, glancing over what would have been the obvious, old, and probably now stiff, remainders of the previous batch, festering underneath the counter glass. If it had been Melissa (the female cashier working next my present cashier) she would have batted her eyelashes at me and tried to flirt it up a bit, but not give a damn about whether I wanted them fresh or straight from the display shelf.

I pursed my lips for a moment, wondering what Mish would’ve liked.

Fresh, definitely.

I dug out my wallet, grabbing a five dollar bill, and handing it over, “Don’t bother with change,” I muttered, stuffing the wallet back into my pocket.

Flashing a smile at the guy, and moving aside so he could tend to the next customer, I said, “I think I’ll have to take you up on those freshly baked cookies. Besides, I think I have time to wait…Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

I knew very well Melissa’s name. She’d totally flaunted it out for me the first time we’d met till she learned that I had a wife. But, if you’ll notice, I’ve been referring to this guy as the cashier for the most part. And maybe, I felt a teensy bit bad, that, weather the guy noticed it or not, I’d avoided him on my many Starbucks mornings.

“Oh,” he replied “Okay. Cool. So, Sam, maybe we could hang out some time and you could do that drawing of me? Usually, I’m down by the beach, but it gets kind of cold there, so if you have another place in mind…?”

I stood there just kind of awed by the whole amazingness of this entire conversation. To be honest, I had noticed him at school and drawn a picture of him, once. It took me a while because I did it while we were in Chemistry and of course, he hardly showed up.

'He smiled at me!' I yelled in my head staring at his dazzling smile. “And, we could hang out together. Like really hang out, not just for the drawing.” I froze. 'Was he asking me on a date? No. Of course not. I mean, look at him. He's gorgeous, flawless and I'm... me,' I argued with myself.

"Beach," I said, a bit louder than my normal mouse voice. I had kind of noticed him straining to hear me. "Beach good." What was wrong with me? I sounded like a illiterate. "I mean," I said, clearing my throat softly, "The beach is fine. Here, let me give you my number so you can let me know when. My schedule is pretty flexible."

I pulled out one of my ever present pens that I used for signing my work. "554-0005." I smiled at him again. Gosh his eyes were gorgeous. "You have really nice eyes," I mumbled, looking at the ground, embarrassed. How would he react?

Gabriel Falk
I take the bill, rather surprised by this act of generosity. Most people wouldn't have given me a tip, even if I had offered them freshly baked cookies. I had thought that courtesy had died out a while ago. It was rather nice, I must say. Not only did it mean I would probably get paid a little extra - and, when you were as broke as I was, a little went a long way - but it also saved me the hassle of having to count out change. A bit of a selfish view, I know, but it's a pain to have to count out a ton of small coins. "Thank you," I quickly say in response, putting the bill in the cash register.

It was rather shocking, I must say, when he asked my name. People rarely asked me that, most of them tending to either find it out from my name tag, and the rest of them purely not caring whether they knew my name or not. "I'm Gabriel," I say, mentally cringing at my pronunciation. Despite having lived here for most of my life, I still pronounced my name the Danish-slash-German way: Pronouncing the beginning more along the lines of 'Gah' rather than 'Gey', as the people here were so fond of doing. "Gabriel Falk."

"Your name is Alexander Romero, correct?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. Thankfully, there were no other customers currently, allowing me a chance to have a conversation. "I hope you won't be insulted when I say I have absolutely no clue who you are. I mean, I know you're a model - or at least, I presume that - but that's only because of Miss Melissa's reaction." Now, why on earth was I using random titles? I mean, I used them all the time in daily life, and would rarely refer to people who I didn't know very well without using them, but only now did I realise how stupid and old fashioned that sounded. I must say, I was completely awkward in social situations. Despite the fact that I loved them, I absolutely sucked at taking part in conversations.

"Fashion isn't really my thing," I apologise quickly. "One second, let me just go see whether the cookies are finished." Quickly excusing myself, I back out into the backroom of the store, where everything was being cooked. Luckily, the cookies were already finished baking, saving me from any further social embarrassment. Note to self: Learn how to actually hold a conversation without feeling like you are digging yourself into a grave. I carry the tray out front, setting it onto the shelf where all the baked goods were displayed. "Three cookies, right?" I ask for confirmation, glancing at the guy.

(I can’t include Max in this post since I have to wait for shrubvera to post. I don’t know where she (I’m assuming she’s a she) is though :/ )

Matthew

“Beach!” she replied quickly, a bit louder than the last time, taking me by surprise that for the first time since we’d met, I’d heard her talk loud and clear.

“Beach good. I mean,” she cleared her throat, a soft, barely audible noise, “the beach is fine. Here, let me give you my number so you can let me know when. My schedule is pretty flexible.”

I waited patiently as she grabbed a pen from her pack, scribbling her number on a piece of paper for me.

557-0005. It was an easy number to remember, and I doubted the idea that I would actually need the paper. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

”You have really nice eyes,” she said, out of the blue, pointedly looking away from me and at the ground. Cute.

Giving her a lopsided smile (which she wouldn’t see until she turned her head up) I said, “Thanks. I get that a lot.”

I know, I know. I didn’t go off giving her a special comment about herself. But, as far as I could tell, Sam was a pretty plain person, and I didn’t know her well enough to compliment her on something outstanding about herself. I mean, she had a cute face and everything, but I just didn’t feel comfortable going off and telling her something about her was straight out beautiful. I dunno what it is, but most guys are like that. It’s real easy for girls to get all romantic, and mushy, and complimentary, but us guys are more of pervs than anything else. We don’t comment on real beauty unless we really love someone. Usually, when it comes to flirting, we’re just big time goofballs that love to make funny, quirky, and disgusting comments that some girls seem to revel in.

Sam didn’t seem like one of ‘those’ girls, what with her being a lot more modest and reserved, and so I didn’t feel the urge to tell her anything “teenagerish”. It was a bit different with this girl. She wasn’t an all out flirt, and wasn’t seeking some kind of sexual attention, and so I myself had to change to suit her. Simple as that.

“Well, Sam,” I said carefully, judging my words and hoping that my unenthusiastic response to her comment didn’t hurt her too much, “I’ll be seeing you soon then. To be honest, just a heads up, Saturday would be an amazing day for us to hang out. We’d have all 24 hours to ourselves, and practically my entire house, since my parents are going off on a business trip. Only thing is you might have to interact with my sister. But don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. Mostly,” I said, chuckling and hoping Sam would get my sense of humor.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. We come from completely different worlds.

Alexander

I’d never heard the guy—or rather, Gabriel—speak much before, and it was a shocking surprise that he did speak with a certain amount eloquence, tinted with an unmistaken accent.

Something seemed to embarrass him (or maybe that’s just me reading the situation wrong), and he quickly excused himself to check up on my cookies.

“Three, yep,” I said, nodding my head as I waited for him to pack them up in a small flat Starbucks paper bag.

Contemplating for a moment, I decided to answer whatever questions I could remember him asking.

“My name is Alexander Romero,” I confirmed, chuckling as my tongue rolled off the name in a slight Spanish accent. My mother had always said it sounded better that way. To be honest, American english or Hispanic, the way it was pronounced didn’t really bother me.

“And it’s alright if you don’t know who I am. Actually, I’m relatively new to the modeling business I take part in presently, which would be Armani Express. I started up around fifteen, doing more child friendly, less explicit modeling for teen clothing, which eventually, as I got older and became…you know…bigger….and stronger, got me picked up for stuff like Armani. I get to do other shoots as well, but they’re not aimed for the general public. More for adult eyes. Actually I think my wife has a few of my magazines in the car.”

And all of a sudden there was a light, barely noticeable blush on my face (I’m kind of tan). I averted my eyes from Gabriel, attempting a go at nonchalance. I’d always suspected Gabriel of being homosexual, but in no way had ever gone out of my way to find out if he really was. His business, as far as I had been concerned, was his business and his business alone, and it was up to him whether he told people of his sexuality or not. Therefore, for the most part, I had ignored rumors of it, simply labeling them as possibilities but not conformations.

Now however, speaking of my nude-to-partially-nude shots with him was making me uncomfortable, not knowing how he’d react, or if I was offending him, and I snapped my mouth shut, basically reverting to just waiting for my cookies and avoiding his eyes. Jeez, way to go Alex.

Gabriel Falk
I grab a bag from one of the stacks hidden under the counter. Thankfully, I grabbed the right type, which was always a challenge, since since I couldn't exactly just look down under the counter and go searching for the proper sized bag. I mean, I technically could, but there were no words to describe how inexperienced that would look. Considering the fact that I've been working here for, what, three years, looking inexperienced would not be particularly good. Especially not in front of a model. I mean, he seemed like a fairly nice guy, but models tended to be fairly prissy, even if they seemed nice at first, so it was always a good idea to look professional in front of them.

"Seems like a decent job," I begin to say, only hearing the beginning part of his description of what he modeled. Sometimes, I really wish that my mind would catch up to the conversation before my mouth actually said anything. This was one of those situations. "I mean... um... The first part... Well, if you like... I mean... the second part... not really..." I felt my face heating up, and immediately knew that I was probably looking like a sunburned tomato right now. That's the main problem that comes from being as pale as I am: any blushes, sunburns, you name it, are painfully visible. And, of course, nobody can tell when you aren't feeling very good, because your skin is already so pale that it doesn't make a difference if you get paler. So, yeah, it sucked to be as pale as I was.

"Um... Well... you know what I mean..." I quickly say, trying to cover up my previous butchering of words. It was times like this when I really wished that I had a way of forcing blushes off of my face. They got rather annoying - and, not to mention, embarrassing - after a while.

How on earth did we get to this topic anyways? Oh, right, by me inquiring about his job. Still, Alexander probably could have been a bit more... vague. 'Too much information' never fit the situation more perfectly than this. Not to mention, it was rather strange that he chose to mention this, off all topics. After all, he had been here before, I was rather sure. At least, I remember seeing him here every now and then. Surely he must have heard the rumours - the very true rumours - that I was gay. Even if he didn't believe them, he probably still was rather uncomfortable talking to me. Most straight guys were, especially when it came to talking about nude shots, not that they ever managed to land on that topic. I suppose Alexander was just really confident. Really, really confident.

"Here are the cookies," I say, staring down, the floor suddenly becoming incredibly interesting. I only glance up to make sure that I'm setting the bag of cookies on the counter and not anywhere else. That would make this situation even more awkward than it currently was.

“Well, Sam,” he said "I’ll be seeing you soon then. To be honest, just a heads up, Saturday would be an amazing day for us to hang out. We’d have all 24 hours to ourselves, and practically my entire house, since my parents are going off on a business trip. Only thing is you might have to interact with my sister. But don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. Mostly.” I nodded. Saturday was fine. I could just ask my boss, Carter, for the day off, not that she would care anyway. "Yeah. Sounds great." I walked away, smiling. We were from two completely different worlds, and here we are, interacting.