bec med school sucks
Title: dont have one yet
Status: who knows
Characters: just read it man, its a surprise!
this is totally spur of my thoughts, writting in a casual POV. fluff. snark. laughs.
Ch1 (of like 4 i guess) "Stupid effing Valentine's Day"
Every bloody pub in this city was full. Of couples. Of course they were. It was stupid Vday on a freaking Saturday. Where the heck else would everyone be? I had walked into 3 already, just trying to get a drink but no avail. Finally I took a step out of pish-posh London and tried a slightly different venue. An older, more established pub might work. How hard was it to grab a drink after work anyway?
I pushed through the doors of an older looking unfamiliar pub. Unfamiliar was a relative term, since most of London was unfamiliar territory. The warmth of the room was a relief from the obscene winter outside (of course my first winter here would be miserable). This pub was well packed too, but less couples, more randoms. A game appeared to be on the television, which I ignored and made my way to the bar. I squeezed in between a young man and an older gentleman.
"Guiness, please." I stated. The two men who made room for me turned to stare. I was used to the stares. I never knew if I was my obvious American accent, or the fact that I, a tiny girl, could drink Guiness and enjoy it. College does that to you. I shrugged off my coat and sat down on a stool. The gentleman turned his attention back to the television. The younger man glanced at me again. An irritating day at work and stupid Vday wasn't helping his situation.
"Can I help you?" I asked, more trite than necessary. He turned to look at me, bemused. Shit, he was cute. That wasn't a smart decision.
"I did not know Americans liked Guiness, or that a girl from there would enjoy it. Would have pegged you for a fruity-umbrella drink." He mumbled, smirking. I didn't appreciate the emphasis on American, like a word that left a bad taste in his mouth.
"You got an issue with an American girl drinking beer? Have you been to America? Ever?" I challenged him. I don't know why. Perhaps because it was my 23rd Valentine's Day alone, perhaps I was homesick and lonely, perhaps because he had it coming.
"I've lived there, and worked there." He replied, unsmiling but with a glint of something in his eyes. Oh, these British lads. How they got under my skin.
I let it go, and drank the beer sitting in front of me. He turned back to his drink of choice. We sat in silence. I tried to absorb myself into the ongoing game, but I felt him watching me. I looked up at him. "Do you need something? Is there a new appendage growing from my face?"
"Are all Americans this snarky?" He was really getting to me. Who did this guy think he was? Insulting my home, although in hindsight he could not have known how homesick I was at that moment.
My southern side came out. In an accent that only show when I'm truly upset I stood up and said "Listen pretty boy, you gots a problem with me? You wanna take this outside? Cuz I'll take you on." I put on my coat to prove it. I was ready, ready to hit him. Stupid pretty boy.
Oh shit. He put on his coat too. Was this normal in England? Guys fought girls? Amazingly, no one at the bar took notice. Great. Awesome. I picked up my purse, threw some money on the bar and stomped out. And he followed me! What was with this guy? More importantly, when was I going to learn to keep my mouth shut?
He followed me outside and I turned round to face him. He looked at me for a second, and then his expression turned from amusement to horror and panic. That's right pretty boy, get scared. You're about to take on an angry American. "I think I have to go," he muttered.
What? I looked at him dumbfounded. I think I was really ready to fight. He read my face. People started crowding around, especially quickly. Had people realized what was about to happen that fast? Why were there cameras? What the heck is wrong with this place?
All of a sudden the cameras starting going off, and my opponent looked as if he wanted to disappear into the sidewalk. Something wasn't right. What pretty boy shies away from cameras? Unless...
I threw my arm out for a cab. Time for a distraction. I took a deep breath, mustered all the southern belle I had in me and bellowed "Hey what the hell yall think you doin?" Holy cow I forgot how loud I could be. People stopped as if I had thrown up a smelly fish. No time to hesitate, "Did I say yall could take pictures of me and my friend? We just tryin to talk and gawd damn I thought this here city was nice to tourists." My cab pulled up. It was now or never.
"Your friend is not a tourist," a young girl in the crowd pointed out. I turned on her, she took a small step backward. This was kind of fun.
"He is so my friend," I replied, edging towards the taxi. "We just happens to be fighting. Now hes gonna leave in this here taxi and I'm-a gonna go back and finish my beer." I'm highly positive nobody could understand me anymore. But the cameras stopped for a few minutes. I turned to him, he was frozen in place. I raised my eyebrows at him and he raised his back. Jeez what was this guy? "Hon why don't you go back to the hotel and I'mma come as soon as I'm ready?" A look of understanding crossed his face. People were readying their cameras again. He walked past me into the cab and muttered a thanks.
"He said thanks!" A girl behind me shrieked. Oh baby Jesus, here we go. "He's British. IT HAS TO BE HIM!" Screaming erupted around me and cameras were going off. A strong hand grasped my arm and yanked me into the cab. We drove off with me tumbling around trying to get into the seat.
I glanced up to see people banging on the cab and the driver struggling to get onto a main road. Were the doors locked? Hang on, who the heck am I sharing this cab with? I pulled myself into the seat and turned to my companion.
"Thanks, sorry about that." He looked quite sheepish. And red. "Sorry about the crazies, and yanking you like that. I figured after you helped me it would be unfair to leave you to them."
"Yeah, no worries," I looked out of the window again. The cab was quiet. For about, a second.
"When did you figure out who I was?" He turned to face me, I could see his reflection in the window. Only now was he starting to look vaguely familiar.
"I still don't know who you are," I looked at him. I thought as hard as I could. Nothing. "I just know they weren't taking pictures of me. And you looked about ready to die there on the sidewalk. I felt bad for dragging you out of the pub to fight." Now it was my turn to be embarassed. Clearly, I'm missing something. He was obviously good looking, and there was something more. Who was he? Why was I suddenly culturally inept?
He chuckled at my confusion. "You really have no idea who I am?" I shook my head. "Well thats nice." He looked straight ahead. Was he upset I didn't recognize him?
"I'm sorry," I offered quietly. He still looked upset. How could he be upest? He was wearing a beanie cap that hid his hair and came almost to his eyes. Although it was the eyes that was familiar. Something, red? Something cheesy? I couldn't put my finger on it. A chick flick? The last British actor I saw in a chick flick was Colin Firth. He caught me staring. He raised one eyebrow in question. I shook my head again "Nothing. I have no idea who you are. I can't really think of a British famous-for-something-guy that would engage in a fight with a girl."
"I wasn't going to fight you," he replied, the smirk coming back. "I was going to apologize for ruining a nice girl's evening, and offer to take you back inside and get you another drink."
"Right, because, you know you would lose if you tried to fight me." I laughed as I said it but I was abruptly cut short. Without taking a breath he pounced -- for lack of a better word -- into my corner of the cab, and had me by both shoulders pinned into the window. His face was so close that I could see every line of color in his iris. Creepy! "Ok so maybe, you could take me." I joked, hoping he would let go and allow me my breath again. He didn't move, didn't speak. Great, Valentine's Day and I'm going to be attacked. Lame.
He waited another minute, though it felt like an hour and finally let go. He eased back into the seat, much closer than he had been before. He looked at me with a goofy grin on his face. "You shouldn't irritate a vampire."
My mind was blank for a second. Then without even thinking (as usual) I pointed to him and shouted "I knew you were in something cheesy! I saw that movie! You're the Twilight guy!" And immediately clapped both my hands over my mouth. Why, WHY can't I keep my mouth shut? He looked at me incredulously for a split second and let out a roar of a laugh. He threw his head back on the seatback and laughed, his whole body shaking.
Yeah, he was a maniac. Get me out of this cab. Now.
Status: who knows
Characters: just read it man, its a surprise!
this is totally spur of my thoughts, writting in a casual POV. fluff. snark. laughs.
Ch1 (of like 4 i guess) "Stupid effing Valentine's Day"
Every bloody pub in this city was full. Of couples. Of course they were. It was stupid Vday on a freaking Saturday. Where the heck else would everyone be? I had walked into 3 already, just trying to get a drink but no avail. Finally I took a step out of pish-posh London and tried a slightly different venue. An older, more established pub might work. How hard was it to grab a drink after work anyway?
I pushed through the doors of an older looking unfamiliar pub. Unfamiliar was a relative term, since most of London was unfamiliar territory. The warmth of the room was a relief from the obscene winter outside (of course my first winter here would be miserable). This pub was well packed too, but less couples, more randoms. A game appeared to be on the television, which I ignored and made my way to the bar. I squeezed in between a young man and an older gentleman.
"Guiness, please." I stated. The two men who made room for me turned to stare. I was used to the stares. I never knew if I was my obvious American accent, or the fact that I, a tiny girl, could drink Guiness and enjoy it. College does that to you. I shrugged off my coat and sat down on a stool. The gentleman turned his attention back to the television. The younger man glanced at me again. An irritating day at work and stupid Vday wasn't helping his situation.
"Can I help you?" I asked, more trite than necessary. He turned to look at me, bemused. Shit, he was cute. That wasn't a smart decision.
"I did not know Americans liked Guiness, or that a girl from there would enjoy it. Would have pegged you for a fruity-umbrella drink." He mumbled, smirking. I didn't appreciate the emphasis on American, like a word that left a bad taste in his mouth.
"You got an issue with an American girl drinking beer? Have you been to America? Ever?" I challenged him. I don't know why. Perhaps because it was my 23rd Valentine's Day alone, perhaps I was homesick and lonely, perhaps because he had it coming.
"I've lived there, and worked there." He replied, unsmiling but with a glint of something in his eyes. Oh, these British lads. How they got under my skin.
I let it go, and drank the beer sitting in front of me. He turned back to his drink of choice. We sat in silence. I tried to absorb myself into the ongoing game, but I felt him watching me. I looked up at him. "Do you need something? Is there a new appendage growing from my face?"
"Are all Americans this snarky?" He was really getting to me. Who did this guy think he was? Insulting my home, although in hindsight he could not have known how homesick I was at that moment.
My southern side came out. In an accent that only show when I'm truly upset I stood up and said "Listen pretty boy, you gots a problem with me? You wanna take this outside? Cuz I'll take you on." I put on my coat to prove it. I was ready, ready to hit him. Stupid pretty boy.
Oh shit. He put on his coat too. Was this normal in England? Guys fought girls? Amazingly, no one at the bar took notice. Great. Awesome. I picked up my purse, threw some money on the bar and stomped out. And he followed me! What was with this guy? More importantly, when was I going to learn to keep my mouth shut?
He followed me outside and I turned round to face him. He looked at me for a second, and then his expression turned from amusement to horror and panic. That's right pretty boy, get scared. You're about to take on an angry American. "I think I have to go," he muttered.
What? I looked at him dumbfounded. I think I was really ready to fight. He read my face. People started crowding around, especially quickly. Had people realized what was about to happen that fast? Why were there cameras? What the heck is wrong with this place?
All of a sudden the cameras starting going off, and my opponent looked as if he wanted to disappear into the sidewalk. Something wasn't right. What pretty boy shies away from cameras? Unless...
I threw my arm out for a cab. Time for a distraction. I took a deep breath, mustered all the southern belle I had in me and bellowed "Hey what the hell yall think you doin?" Holy cow I forgot how loud I could be. People stopped as if I had thrown up a smelly fish. No time to hesitate, "Did I say yall could take pictures of me and my friend? We just tryin to talk and gawd damn I thought this here city was nice to tourists." My cab pulled up. It was now or never.
"Your friend is not a tourist," a young girl in the crowd pointed out. I turned on her, she took a small step backward. This was kind of fun.
"He is so my friend," I replied, edging towards the taxi. "We just happens to be fighting. Now hes gonna leave in this here taxi and I'm-a gonna go back and finish my beer." I'm highly positive nobody could understand me anymore. But the cameras stopped for a few minutes. I turned to him, he was frozen in place. I raised my eyebrows at him and he raised his back. Jeez what was this guy? "Hon why don't you go back to the hotel and I'mma come as soon as I'm ready?" A look of understanding crossed his face. People were readying their cameras again. He walked past me into the cab and muttered a thanks.
"He said thanks!" A girl behind me shrieked. Oh baby Jesus, here we go. "He's British. IT HAS TO BE HIM!" Screaming erupted around me and cameras were going off. A strong hand grasped my arm and yanked me into the cab. We drove off with me tumbling around trying to get into the seat.
I glanced up to see people banging on the cab and the driver struggling to get onto a main road. Were the doors locked? Hang on, who the heck am I sharing this cab with? I pulled myself into the seat and turned to my companion.
"Thanks, sorry about that." He looked quite sheepish. And red. "Sorry about the crazies, and yanking you like that. I figured after you helped me it would be unfair to leave you to them."
"Yeah, no worries," I looked out of the window again. The cab was quiet. For about, a second.
"When did you figure out who I was?" He turned to face me, I could see his reflection in the window. Only now was he starting to look vaguely familiar.
"I still don't know who you are," I looked at him. I thought as hard as I could. Nothing. "I just know they weren't taking pictures of me. And you looked about ready to die there on the sidewalk. I felt bad for dragging you out of the pub to fight." Now it was my turn to be embarassed. Clearly, I'm missing something. He was obviously good looking, and there was something more. Who was he? Why was I suddenly culturally inept?
He chuckled at my confusion. "You really have no idea who I am?" I shook my head. "Well thats nice." He looked straight ahead. Was he upset I didn't recognize him?
"I'm sorry," I offered quietly. He still looked upset. How could he be upest? He was wearing a beanie cap that hid his hair and came almost to his eyes. Although it was the eyes that was familiar. Something, red? Something cheesy? I couldn't put my finger on it. A chick flick? The last British actor I saw in a chick flick was Colin Firth. He caught me staring. He raised one eyebrow in question. I shook my head again "Nothing. I have no idea who you are. I can't really think of a British famous-for-something-guy that would engage in a fight with a girl."
"I wasn't going to fight you," he replied, the smirk coming back. "I was going to apologize for ruining a nice girl's evening, and offer to take you back inside and get you another drink."
"Right, because, you know you would lose if you tried to fight me." I laughed as I said it but I was abruptly cut short. Without taking a breath he pounced -- for lack of a better word -- into my corner of the cab, and had me by both shoulders pinned into the window. His face was so close that I could see every line of color in his iris. Creepy! "Ok so maybe, you could take me." I joked, hoping he would let go and allow me my breath again. He didn't move, didn't speak. Great, Valentine's Day and I'm going to be attacked. Lame.
He waited another minute, though it felt like an hour and finally let go. He eased back into the seat, much closer than he had been before. He looked at me with a goofy grin on his face. "You shouldn't irritate a vampire."
My mind was blank for a second. Then without even thinking (as usual) I pointed to him and shouted "I knew you were in something cheesy! I saw that movie! You're the Twilight guy!" And immediately clapped both my hands over my mouth. Why, WHY can't I keep my mouth shut? He looked at me incredulously for a split second and let out a roar of a laugh. He threw his head back on the seatback and laughed, his whole body shaking.
Yeah, he was a maniac. Get me out of this cab. Now.