Status: Okay, so the whole 'get everything off my laptop' plan went to hell. The harddrive is messed up. All the chapters I'd written are gone. I don't think I'll delete ACA and I will probably continue it, but I can't say how long it will be before I do. I am considering redoing it completely.
A Cigarette Affair
Doesn't matter.
Just her luck. Of course, how could it have turned out anyway else? Her pen taps against her desk. Just behind her, one seat to the right, is the new boy. He’s already talking to the surrounding students, making fast friends with his charming grin and easy-going words.
He seems nice, the girls whisper amongst themselves. And he’s hot. An epidemic of giggles break out.
Honestly.
Pippa rolls her eyes, pen stilling its agitated movement when the teacher sends a glare her way. She glances back, a quick, awkward movement and flushes when her eyes meet the charcoal gaze of the new boy. She quickly turns forward and her hair falls over one shoulder, a shield from that unnerving look. I don’t like him, she tells herself and knows that it is true.
She can see the cruel, mocking set to his mouth and the hard edge of his eyes. She sees what the others so obviously miss. He isn’t like them, Pippa’s mind whispers, but what does it mean? She shakes her head, taps her nails against the desk. The teacher glares.
Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, she tells herself and knows it isn’t true.
He seems nice, the girls whisper amongst themselves. And he’s hot. An epidemic of giggles break out.
Honestly.
Pippa rolls her eyes, pen stilling its agitated movement when the teacher sends a glare her way. She glances back, a quick, awkward movement and flushes when her eyes meet the charcoal gaze of the new boy. She quickly turns forward and her hair falls over one shoulder, a shield from that unnerving look. I don’t like him, she tells herself and knows that it is true.
She can see the cruel, mocking set to his mouth and the hard edge of his eyes. She sees what the others so obviously miss. He isn’t like them, Pippa’s mind whispers, but what does it mean? She shakes her head, taps her nails against the desk. The teacher glares.
Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, she tells herself and knows it isn’t true.