Post by kris on Sept 16, 2006 23:02:53 GMT -5
It was half past seven in the morning when an irritable red-head shut her bedroom door behind her with a loud clank. That’s what she got for staying up late to watch a movie after she got home from work last night, but hell, she couldn’t lay in bed any longer. Black pajama pant with blazing hot pink guitars stamped allover them clothed her lower body, while her bare feet padded softly against the white carpeting in the apartment. The girl despised the color pink, but no one else had to know that she wore it in the comfort of home. The plain black tank top that clung tightly to her torso left her arms bare, but she liked the cool temperature that floated through the dwelling, thanks to the morning air. This seventeen year old’s name was Paige.
She lived in very close distance of Orange County, and spent all of her time otherwise within in it, so she was very well aware what today was. The practically mandatory dancing lessons preceding the annual Cotillion. So considering just what day it was, that’s why she had every good intention of spending it at home. Big woop, was all this sarcastic, stubborn brute thought of the whole thing. Although her brother wasn’t up yet since it was one of those rare days that he could sleep in, he would most likely try to convince her of otherwise.
Paige just didn’t do the whole hitting on guys thing, for her that meant no escort, no escort meant no dancing, and no dancing meant she had absolutely no reason to go. Along with that, she figured she didn’t need to make a feeble attempt at dance steps only to make a royal ass out of herself anyway. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t own anything quite so formal anyway, and she was to proud to ask someone if she could borrow. All in all, she had a pretty nasty attitude about the entire thing, and if anyone attempted to address her on it. . .well, let’s just say she wouldn’t take it so kindly.
After pulling up the blinds, Paige reached and slid open the window located in the small living room. For a moment she stood next to it, peering down at the filthy street from her third story view through tired gray eyes. The slight breeze coming in through the screen brushed lightly against her frizzy hair and bare shoulders. Snapping out of her trance, Paige paced into their pathetic little kitchen and fixed herself a bowl of milk and Cheerios. Upon reaching the silverware drawer though, she let out a low curse. . .she put the dishes in the dishwasher last night, but she’d neglect to turn the thing on. Damnit, she thought nastily as she pulled a dirty spoon out of the dishwasher and brought it to the sink, where she’d rinse it with soap and water.
With that done, the girl walked over and placed herself on the couch. Her legs curled next to her as she took a bit out of her breakfast. Reaching the short distance for the remote on the arm of the ugly gray couch, on which she sat, Paige powered on the little TV and flipped the channel to some cartoons.
She lived in very close distance of Orange County, and spent all of her time otherwise within in it, so she was very well aware what today was. The practically mandatory dancing lessons preceding the annual Cotillion. So considering just what day it was, that’s why she had every good intention of spending it at home. Big woop, was all this sarcastic, stubborn brute thought of the whole thing. Although her brother wasn’t up yet since it was one of those rare days that he could sleep in, he would most likely try to convince her of otherwise.
Paige just didn’t do the whole hitting on guys thing, for her that meant no escort, no escort meant no dancing, and no dancing meant she had absolutely no reason to go. Along with that, she figured she didn’t need to make a feeble attempt at dance steps only to make a royal ass out of herself anyway. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t own anything quite so formal anyway, and she was to proud to ask someone if she could borrow. All in all, she had a pretty nasty attitude about the entire thing, and if anyone attempted to address her on it. . .well, let’s just say she wouldn’t take it so kindly.
After pulling up the blinds, Paige reached and slid open the window located in the small living room. For a moment she stood next to it, peering down at the filthy street from her third story view through tired gray eyes. The slight breeze coming in through the screen brushed lightly against her frizzy hair and bare shoulders. Snapping out of her trance, Paige paced into their pathetic little kitchen and fixed herself a bowl of milk and Cheerios. Upon reaching the silverware drawer though, she let out a low curse. . .she put the dishes in the dishwasher last night, but she’d neglect to turn the thing on. Damnit, she thought nastily as she pulled a dirty spoon out of the dishwasher and brought it to the sink, where she’d rinse it with soap and water.
With that done, the girl walked over and placed herself on the couch. Her legs curled next to her as she took a bit out of her breakfast. Reaching the short distance for the remote on the arm of the ugly gray couch, on which she sat, Paige powered on the little TV and flipped the channel to some cartoons.