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Post by Samantha on Feb 6, 2013 22:39:14 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Before answering, Russell took a quick sip of his Manhattan, feeling the slight burn of the whiskey at the back of his throat. He sighed in contentment; the day had been a long one, and he already felt himself beginning to unwind.
"You want to know about my dating history?" he asked, almost facetiously, grinning slightly. "My, my, Marina—jealous, are we? For the record, those friends of mine that I was talking about are all males, and you'll be happy to know that I've never actually kissed any of them. As for the members of the opposite sex..."
He looked down into his drink, arching his shoulders into a haphazard sort of shrug. He had to smile, just to himself, at her question: how many women has he kissed? She didn't ask how many women he's dated, how many he's slept with, but how many he's kissed. It sounded juvenile—like they were in high school or something—and he briefly wondered just how many men that she'd been with, and just how far (if she'd gone anywhere at all) that she'd been with each of them.
By its stem, he picked the maraschino cherry out of his drink and held it out to Marina. "Would you like this?" he asked, filibustering in that way that he did best. He did, in fact, like the cherries—he wasn't one of those men who refused a drink based on its garnish or sugar content; alcohol was alcohol and, if determined enough, one could get drunk on anything—but he offered it to her anyway, just to be kind.
He recalled the conversation that they'd had about her dating history—about the men that her parents had set her up with—but he couldn't remember if they had at all talked about him. He had absolutely no idea how many women he'd kissed in the course of his lifetime. If he thought about it, he could probably figure out how many women he'd slept with, but he wasn't about to volunteer that information so freely (certainly it was a huge no-no on date numero uno). "You really want to know about the women that I've dated?" he asked, settling his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his laced fingers. "I'm not sure that you do, to tell you the truth, Marina. But I will tell you one thing: there's never been any woman in my life whom I've been very serious about. I've never been married. And for formality's sake, I also don't have any children, either."
He finished off his drink with a throaty ahh. "I don't suppose that you'd like to tell me how many men you've been with?"
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Post by Cayla on Feb 7, 2013 1:32:07 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Of course Marina wasn't expecting a direct answer from him. She gotwhat she figured he would say. Russell seemed like a type of guy that would pick up girls and hang them out to dry.
Marina giggled at his 'never kissing his male friends' statement. Marina took the cherry from Russell's finger tips and plopped it in her mouth, stem and all. A few seconds later she pulled the stem from her mouth. It was tied in a knot. She set it in her napkin.
Russell precariously mentioned not telling the truth. She believed him. Russell did too mention that the previous women were of no meaning (or so that's what Marina heard) and he doesn't have any kids.
What was 'not serious' according to Russell? Was it not sleeping together? Or just not getting married?
Marina folded her hands in her lap and thought about how to answer the question. She knew every detail of every man she had dated. There were only 5. She could easily count them on her fingers. Before giving Russell a straight answer, she gave him a bit of his own medicine. She counted on her fingers, pretending to remember each as she went along.
Then she spoke. "Only five," she said firmly. "But to be honest with you, I've only kissed three of them." Marina adjusted her chair and she smelled hot food coming closer.
The waiter stopped and set down a warm basket of butter and rolls, then disappeared. Marina grabbed one and broke it open with her fingers. She took her butter knife and some butter and lightly spread some on before shoving it down her throat. She reminded herself to slow down.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin and placed it back in her lap. "You are very mysterious and the complete opposite for me, aren't you?" Marina asked.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 7, 2013 3:05:35 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}"Is that a bad thing?" he asked. "You and I being completely different people—that's not a bad thing, you think, is it?" When she'd said it, he'd panicked. It sounded almost like a line, something similar in nature to It's not you, it's me (a line that he was plenty familiar with himself, having been on both the giving and on the receiving end of it). He wondered if he intimidated her. It was obvious that she was not nearly as experienced as he was—and what if that was something that turned her off? What if she thought that he was a whore, lusting after her for sex and romance, bailing when it got too emotional? Well, yeah, he'd done it in the past—but he could be different. His grandfather told him all of the time that he could be different. "I mean," he continued, "they say opposites attract, don't they? Don't you think?"
He didn't like how needy he sounded, how desperate. He had to remind himself that he'd only known this girl for ten hours—why was he acting so pitiful? He lifted his empty cocktail glass to signal to the waiter that he'd like a refill. He was suddenly without appetite, only his unquenchable thirst remaining.
"You want another?" he asked, pushing the basket of bread toward her. "I mean, judging from the way that you inhaled that last roll, I'd say that you're pretty hungry. You're definitely not one of those girls who's too self-conscious to eat in front of a man. Well, by all means, don't let me and my genitalia stop you. I rather like a girl with an appetite."
He picked at the roll on his own plate, placing a chunk of the soft bread into his mouth. He rolled it beneath his tongue, where is slowly disintegrated in his own saliva. He really wasn't hungry. Stress had that effect on him. So did nerves—and his nerves were fried, his pasta dish heavy. It sounded absolutely repulsive at present, and he hoped that the waiter would take his time in delivering it.
He looked across the table at her, catching her eyes. Turquoise-blue eyes. He was reminded of the card that she had slipped through the crack of the elevator door. "So what kind of modeling do you do?" he asked.
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Post by Cayla on Feb 8, 2013 0:49:01 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina chuckled. "No of course not," she said. "It's just what I was thinking actually." Marina twirled her fingers between the strands of her hair.
Russell pushed the bread basket nearer to Marina and said, "I mean, judging from the way that you inhaled that last roll, I'd say that you're pretty hungry. You're definitely not one of those girls who's too self-conscious to eat in front of a man." Marina frowned. Just because she was small, didn't mean she never ate.
She ignored his last comment and grabbed another roll. She sliced it open like the last and buttered both sides. This time she felt the butter melt onto her tongue and felt the bread disinigrate into her saliva. She wondered when the food would arrive. In the slight moment of silence, Russell mentioned her modeling. Marina nearly choked on her roll.
Guys usually only mentioned her modeling for a few different reasons, but they weren't the nicest ways to talk about modeling. Marina did realize that Russell must have her card now, so it had a legitimate reason to bring it up. She wondered if he heard her outbursts in the elevator earlier. Marina swallowed.
"Well it was always a hobby of mine. My mother found it demeaning, but I still continued. I've only done a few jobs here and there for small boutiques and such, but nothing big. Plus, I seem to never make the impossible high requirement," she explained, "I like to do swimwear shoots because I normally get to keep the outfits....and I swim a lot."
Marina wiped her buttery fingers on her napkin and pulled out her phone. She unlocked her phone and opened up a folder of her portfolio photos. She slid her phone across the table for him to see.
She turned around just in time to see the waiter return with their dinners. Marina licked her lips. She took the lemon slice off her placed and squeezed it over her salmon. She started cutting her food into pieces and spoke, "You know, I've been thinking, I usually don't get into a relationship with people like you, but I can say I'm throughly enjoying myself. Since I formally met you this morning, I've formed and changed my opinion about you."
Marina bit into a bite of her lemony fish and chewed. "I have to admit, I like you Russell," she said.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 8, 2013 3:35:02 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell scrolled through the images on her phone, glancing up in between pictures with only his eyes, as if from over the top of a pair of sunglasses. "Wow," he said, dragging out the word for emphasis. "Just wait until I tell all of my friends that I'm dating a bikini model." He flashed her a playful smile, holding out the phone for her to take back. "And by friends," he said, "I really mean my grandfather."
The waiter arrived at the table with their food, balancing Marina's fish on his arm, Russell's pasta in one hand, and the Manhattan in the other. Russell thanked the man with a grateful nod and returned his attention to Marina, who was squeezing a lemon over her dish. There was a side of what looked to be rice on her plate. Pilaf? he wondered. He'd only ever heard of it, never seen or tasted it, but it seemed to him to be nothing more than rice with some vegetables. He figured that it was a dish that the rich often enjoyed—it certainly sounded pretentious enough.
He picked up his fork and used the back of it to dig into his own food, pushing the pasta noodles around his plate. He stabbed at a shrimp, bringing it to his mouth, and listened to her talk as he chewed. He wanted to know what exactly she had meant by people like him. She didn't usually date parking valets, or she didn't usually date men who had such plentiful dating histories? Both, he realized, carried their own connotations, and neither was too particularly pleasant. He also had no desire to hear what she'd first thought of him, for the immediate impression that most got of him was never good: he came off as arrogant, out of line, sarcastic, and even a little bit mean. He choose instead to focus on her confession.
"You like me?" he asked. He felt a soft grin break out across his face. "Would that be as in I'm great company and a good friend, or as in you'd really like a repeat of that first kiss sometime in the near future?"
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Post by Cayla on Feb 9, 2013 1:53:59 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina blushed. She wasn't technically a 'bikini' model, but she went with it. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said.
Marina picked through her sides of rice and vegetables before scooping some into her mouth. Marina set her fork aside and tiptoed her fingers across the table. She picked up her phone and placed it back on her purse. "Can't have you know all my secrets in one date..." Marina said jokingly. She didn't really have many secrets.
She watched Russell eye up her plate of food. "Want to try some?" Marina said pushing her plate a bit closer to Russell.
"You like me?" Marina heard Russell ask. "Would that be as in I'm great company and a good friend, or as in you'd really like a repeat of that first kiss sometime in the near future?" Marina smiled. "I don't know, you tell me. Maybe you want to try to make a move?" Marina asked.
If Russell was going to be mysterious, Marina may as well try too. She finished her meal and sipped down the rest of her water. "Do you have anything planned after dinner?" Marina asked, but wasn't expecting much.
Marina felt her phone buzz a few times from inside her purse, but decided to ignore it. She slightly wondered what it was. She turned her attention back to Russell. "Thanks so much for a lovely dinner. I eat alone way too often."
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Post by Samantha on Feb 9, 2013 3:37:05 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}When Marina pushed her plate toward Russell, offering her a bit of her food, he looked at her uncertainly. "Are you sure?" he asked, picking up his fork. "You're not going to get offended if I pull a face, are you?"
He took a forkful of the pilaf—not without managing to scatter some across the white tablecloth—and brought it to his mouth. Sure enough, he pulled a face but somehow managed to swallow, quickly taking a sip of his Manhattan. Too many ingredients, he thought, too many unidentifiable flavors. In this way his taste buds had always been a little childish: he liked his dishes clean and simple. Fancy, apparently, just wasn't his style.
"Sorry," he said, chuckling, and pushed the plate back across the table. "You know," he continued, "if you ever do find yourself eating alone and would like some dinner company, you're more than welcome to come over to my apartment. My grandfather's actually a pretty decent cook—he makes something for us every night. I'm sure he'd love the company." Russell lowered his voice and added: "I know I would."
"Actually," he said, glancing at his watch. It wasn't quite yet seven o'clock—still plenty early. He heard her voice, her skillfully-issued dare: Maybe you want to try to make a move? "I don't have any after-dinner plans, but if you maybe wanted to do something, we could always go back to my place. My grandfather usually retires to his bedroom around eight, and we could hang out in the living room—watch a movie or something. I think we've even got some ice cream in the freezer—vanilla, because that's all my grandfather will eat, but it's really not that bad if you put some Khalúa over it. What do you say?"
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Post by Cayla on Feb 9, 2013 4:32:42 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina shook her head. She could care less if he disliked what she chose for dinner. Nothing to make a fuss over. Marina and Russell finished their meal and the waiter came over to take their plates.
Being only seven, Marina agreed to head back over to Russell's place. "Sure, I'd like that. Sounds...tempting. I've never had Khalúa, is it like coffee or something? I'd definitely give it a try," Marina said.
She grabbed the from her purse and rubbed it over her lips. She also picked up the box of mint Tic Tacs she had stored away. She held out the container to Russell to see of he wanted any.
The waitercame back with the bill aand asked if the 'couple' wanted any dessert. Marina shook head and said, "No thanks, we've got other plans." She took the bill and sat it on the table without looking at it.
"If it's over fifty I'll be happy to pay the difference and I will pay the tip no matter what," she said. Marina assumed Russell had still wanted to pay because he insisted on it earlier.
She followed Russell outside into the parking area and to find his car. The sun was now slightly started to set. She felt her hand touch the cool metal of the car. She slightly leaned on the hood of the car. Far across the water was a beautiful sunset that glittered off the water and shined on some of the sand particles. The sky contained splotches of red, orange, and yellow.
Marina closed her eyes. She could feel and smell the fishy wind get colder with the sunset. She shivered a bit.
When they got back into Russell's car, Marina couldn't help but stare back at the sunset as they drove away.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 9, 2013 17:04:49 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}"Coffee-flavored rum," Russell answered distractedly. He had picked up the bill and was currently studying it with great intensity, head turned downwards. She was crazy to think that the cost of dinner was going to be less than fifty dollars—his two Manhattans alone had run him twelve dollars apiece. "It's good," he murmured. He was trying to do the math for the tip in his head. Fifteen perfect of $63.49 was...? He glanced up. "But then again, anything with rum in it is usually pretty damn good."
He scooted forward and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He slipped his Discover card into the booklet, closing it quickly before Marina could get a look a the bill. "Don't worry about it," he said, dismissively waving his hand through the air. "I've got it. It was only forty-eight, so I actually owe you two more dollars. Next time," he promised. When the waiter came back with the receipt, Russell wrote $10.00 down on the line for the tip and signed his name.
In the parking lot, they stood for a moment by the hood of his car, admiring the sunset over the beach. Her face was alight with the golden glow of the brilliant sky. There was a decent wind that rolled up the beach and swept across the parking lot, and he noticed that she was shivering a little because of her thin dress. He wished that he had a jacket to offer her but he had little more than the shift on his back.
"Come on," he said, leading her toward the passenger-side door. "You're cold." He held the door open for her. They pulled out of the parking lot and, with a glance to his side, Russell noticed that she couldn't take her eyes off of the fantastically-lit sky as they drove away. He continued for about a quarter-mile down the road and then pulled over.
He shifted in his seat to look at her, letting his head fall back lazily against the seat. "Still cold?" he asked her softly. He reached out and gently touched her wrist. His gaze flicked from her eyes down to her mouth—and back up against quickly. He looked once out at the ocean, once back into her eyes, and once more at her lips. He thought that he should ask her about dinner, but he really, really didn't feel like talking right then.
"Just tell me if I'm being too forward," he whispered, and leaned across the car so that his mouth was just an inch from hers, his breath falling across her face.
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Post by Cayla on Feb 10, 2013 2:02:22 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina turned around to find Russell inching closer toward her face, until he was an inch apart. She looked down to realize his hand was touching hers and had said something. Marina was so busy day dreaming about the sunset she ccompletely drowned out what Russell had said.
"Huh?" she asked. She felt Russell's hot breath on her face. She blinked a few times before he repeated himself. A few moments later Marina responded, "Oh okay." Marina finally figured out what was happening when their lips met again.
This time, Marina was in shock and didn't know how to respond. She wondered if that was how Russell felt the first time around. Marina finally titled her head and kissed back. It didn't take her much effort to enjoy the kiss. It instantly warmed her body and made her feel tingly on the inside. The kiss made everything look like it was in slow motion. She pulled her fingers through Russell's hair and then dragged her fingers down his tee shirt until his hand was resting on his thigh.
She started to slightly pull away but something pulled her back in. Marina figured Russell was either holding her head or their lips were suctioned together.
Marina pulled her eyes away from Russell's and noticed they were now sitting in his apartment's parking lot. She saw some college students snickering and pointing at Russell and Marina. Marina pulled away and ducked her head in Russell's chest. She pointed out the windshield at the students.
"Who are they and why are they staring at us? I just prefer to makeout with you in private," she said sheepishly.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 10, 2013 16:17:48 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell was anxiously tapping his index finger against the steering wheel as he drove. It was only a ten-minute trip back to the Berma Apartments but it felt much longer. He couldn't stop thinking about the warmth of her mouth against his or the spot high on his thigh where her hand had rested. When they'd finally—finally—arrived back at the apartments, he reached across the car once more, his hand sliding around the back of Marina's neck, greedily pulling her into him. Their mouths met once again and began to move together, deeper and more desperately, until she pulled away.
"Wha...?" he began, wondering what he had done wrong. He started to apologize only to realize that she was looking at something beyond the windshield.
"Who are they," she asked, "and why are they staring at us?"
Russell squinted at the group of bodies that were standing around the hood of the neighboring car. Their figures, silhouetted by the lights from behind, were black masses. But Russell knew who they were because he knew who had the parking spot beside his. Swearing internally, he unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.
He was greeted by a chorus of catcalls. Someone threw an empty beer can his way, and it landed on the asphalt by his feet.
"Starting early tonight, guys?" Russell asked dryly, kicking the can. He directed his comments to the young man who stood closest to him. It was his neighbor, the kid who rented the apartment across the hall from his. "Is it a school night or something?"
Someone tossed another empty his way, this time booing him.
"What's up, Russ?" the neighbor kid asked, slurring his words. His name was Patrick. He and Russell spoke a lot in passing, or else when they were both locked out or too piss-drunk to work their keys. "Who's the girl? I don't recognize this one—another day another warm body, eh, man?"
Russell chose not to respond. He put his arm around Marina and started to lead her towards the entrance of the building. But in passing, Patrick stuck out a hand, catching Marina by the wrist.
"Hey!" he said. "This one's pretty, Russ." He lifted his beer can in Russell's direction, as if to congratulate him. The liquid sloshed around within the can. "You send her across my way when you're done, all right?"
Another round of catcalls surfaced from the crowd of boys standing back by Patrick's car.
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Post by Cayla on Feb 10, 2013 20:11:50 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina found herself trailing at Russell's heels. She cringed at the sight and smell of the guys. They reeked of beer and alcohol. They looked like zombies as they tripped over cans they dropped. Marina watched one crush a beer can against his head. She clung to Russell's arm.
One of the boys, who seemed to know Russell, caught Marina by the wrist before they walked into the building. Marina yanked her wrist back. She heard them whistling and wooing at her before she slapped him across the face. "What pigs," she murmured under her breath.
Marina wasn't sure what to do in the this situation, but she wanted out. These boys couldn't have been much younger than Marina or Russell, and not much older than 21. The boy who knew Russell grabbed Marina's chin and examined her face. Marina ripped her face away from his sandpaper fingers.
"Look guys, a fiesty one!" he said in a husky tone. They all laughed. Another dude came up and was trying to caress Marina's dress and legs before Marina whacked his hand away.
"I'm not your play toy," Marina said firmly. She turned to Russell. "Can I go home now? Somewhere private?" she said. Marina crossed her arms and scrunched her nose. She was not pleased. Marina figured Russell usually had females who fit under the 'dumb blonde' and 'whore' category. She could tell that he didn't often take these girls around more than once.
Marina got back in Russell's car and waited for him to get back in. She figured he was going to apologize, but instead Marina said, "I'm just going to take a wild guess and say that most girls you bring home you hook up with. And well... I'm not going to be one of them. " Marina frowned and shed a single tear. "Please just take me home."
She couldn't believe she was actually starting to care for Russell. She was starting to doubt thathe every cared. How could she be so nieve? Marina stayed quiet.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 11, 2013 2:15:12 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}The car door slammed as Marina got into the passenger seat. Russell, who was still standing out by Patrick and his drunken friends, looked back at her through the windshield, feeling absolutely horrible for the way that she had been treated. His gaze slid back around to the group of kids that stood around him, grinning obnoxiously and sipping their beers. "That was real nice of you gentlemen," Russell remarked. "That was real fantastic. Do yourselves a favor—okay?—and switch to coffee. Sober your asses up."
He went around the side of the car and pulled open his door. The young men were just beginning to scatter, and he waited until they were far enough away from the car before ducking inside. He turned to Marina and opened his mouth, intent on apologizing, but she started speaking over him.
"Marina..." he said softly when she'd finished. He wondered if he should try to reach out to her—comfort her in some way—but immediately thought better of it, planting his hands firmly on either side of the steering wheel. "Marina," he said again. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Those guys...they're drunk—doped up on too much coffee, alcohol, and hormones, deficient in sleep. They're assholes. I'm sorry. I didn't know that they were going to be out here tonight. I didn't know—"
He stopped talking. He licked his lips, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew that he was in some hot water, and he didn't know what he could possibly say to make her believe that she wasn't one of those girls to him—that Patrick was wrong, that Patrick was an idiot.
"I told you," he said quietly, turning his head to look at her, "I told you that I've never been in a serious relationship before. Yes, there have been girls. Yes, I've brought them back here and, yes, Patrick—that guy—has seen them. But, Marina, I swear to you that that was not my intention tonight. I'm not lying to you. I really did have a good time with you at dinner; I really do like you. I wasn't trying to...I just...I didn't—"
He cut himself off. He whispered, "Please don't cry."
He kind of felt like crying himself. He knew that it would happen sooner or later, and it was happening now: he was screwing up with the only girl that he'd ever had serious feelings for. His grandfather was wrong: dating and relationships were not for him. This had to be some sort of record. It just had to be. He felt like an idiot, like a bastard, and all of his thoughts were all running together. He could barely talk. He said:
"Do you want to go home? I'll take you. I'm sorry—I'll just, um, I'll take you home now, okay?"
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Post by Cayla on Feb 12, 2013 1:48:54 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:0}Marina wiped her tear. Maybe she cared more than she realized. Marina cracked a weak smile. "You..you do?" Marina whimpered.
"I want to believe you, but...but I'm not sure I can, " she stammered. She felt her hand shake. She wanted to go home and get out of here, but she didn't want to leave Russell so harshly.
"I'm sorry. I'll get over it. I just wasn't expecting to run into people-like that," Marina said and sighed. She crossed her arms and waited for Russell to pull out. Inside her self-conscious, she didn't want the date to end like this. She wanted to be curled up in his arms and watching a movie. Before encountering Patrick and his gang, Marina may have even considered staying the night. She wouldn't admit it.
Marina kept telling herself to end it now and go home. She wanted to act like the whole day ever happen. This day, she couldn't forget. She got stuck in an elevator, was rescued by a hot guy, and then was close to being a sex toy.
She shuddered at the thought. She turned to Russell. He had no had is eyes glued to the road. Probably had nothing to say to Marina. She was a big harsh on Russell. He didn't do anything wrong. Her phone buzzed again. Marina ignored it.
Marina looked ahead. There was much more traffic then Lake Owensway was used to. It stretched for about a mile. The head of the traffic was a stretch limo stuck in a sharp turn. She fixed her eyes on the lisence plate that read: +i$. More, More ish, "Morris!" Marina screamed.
Her heart began pounding. She picked up her phone, afraid of who may have been trying to contact her. She looked at recent missed calls; Melinda Morris @ 7:06, Mathew Morris @ 5:57. She dropped her phone to the dirty car floor and her jaw hung open. "My. Parents," she mumbled.
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Post by Samantha on Feb 12, 2013 23:33:04 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell took a sidelong glance at Marina, who was slumped in the passenger seat, the silvery path of her single tear reflecting in the moonlight as they drove. I'll get over it. Was that it? he wondered. Was the conflict resolved?
He drew in a deep breath of air, absolutely positive that he needed to say at least one last thing on the topic—apologize again, perhaps, or ask her if they were okay—but he wasn't sure if that would only make the situation worse or not, especially considering that she didn't seem up for talking. Well, neither did he, to be completely honest. The day had been a long and strange one. He was tired. He wanted a drink. He was sure that if he opened his mouth he would only end up making things worse. It was better to keep quiet and let her come to him when she felt ready.
They drove through the main strip of town, where up ahead they spotted break lights. He immediately took his foot off of the gas pedal, bringing the car to a halt at the end of the line of stand-still traffic. "The hell," he muttered, sitting up and craning his neck to see over the cars, "is going on up there?"
"Morris!" Marina shrieked.
Russell, brow crinkled in confusion, turned to her. "What?"
She started scrolling through her phone. He exhaled shortly, returning his attention back to the road. He took his foot off of the break and rolled up a few inches—it looked like they were going to be there for a while. Something on her side of the car thudded.
"You dropped your phone," he muttered, angling his thumb at the spot on the mat where it had landed. He glanced up at her and saw that she was staring, open-mouthed, out the windshield. "Marina?" he asked, voice swelling with concern. "Marina, are you okay? Hey, what's wrong?"
Her parents. Russell followed her eyes to the front of the traffic jam, where a long black limousine had managed to get itself stuck going around a sharp turn—her parents' limousine, he realized, catching a glimpse of the license plate. He cut into the next lane, which wasn't moving much faster but was at least moving nonetheless, and continued this weaving pattern until they finally reached the limousine.
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