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Monday, July 4th, 2005
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10:10 pm - This is what happens when I like him/her drive...
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It wasn't as if (s)he had planned this.
Actually, she might've, and he most definitely did not. Earlier in the day, almost late in the night before he'd gone to sleep. With the usual care to brush his hair forty-seven times, screw the lid on the toothpaste and arrange his clothes. A pair of sneakers, a blue jacket with no particular logo, but it looked fashionable at the time, a white t-shirt and of course the staple blue jeans. He'd set the coffee maker so all he'd have to do was push the button and turned the music on low, stowing the alarm clock under his bed.
Then he'd gone to sleep.
And she woke up three hours later. Her first task was to stuff the clothes he'd arranged into the closet, dragging out her own clothes and dumping them onto the floor. An action that might've made him cringe, to go along with soft protests. Her clothes really would have made him cringe, the short skirt he disapproved of, made out of leather... which he disapproved of more sliding low and across her hips like an airplane seat-belt. Then there was the shirt, which he'd call a 'messed-up bra', and the jacket (which he'd called 'a kitten-coat' before). Not to mention the make up, heavy eyeliner, lipstick and the Oh So Glorious hairdye. Greens and pinks for the day, running across alternating lines of free-flowing hair and tiny braids. She left the room a mess, with an almost wicked glee of unscrewing the toothpaste and writing on the mirror with it before exiting.
3am, you've got lovely skivvies.
It was four when she first hit the clubs, catching people on their way home. Bumping into people casually, casually feeling their cheeks and bodies like a blind persona feeling to remember what they looked like. And she did remember them, able to point someone out someone she met years ago, simply by touch. Of course, they usually remembered her with either a dazed smile of a frown. Julia just had that impact on people, a whirlwind of color, and laughter, usually booze and sex and whatever else she felt like doing at the moment. And she also had the tendency to leave before the party was over, flitting over to some other brightly colored event that had caught her eye.
Just as she went from person to person tonight. He'd have a fit if he knew half the things she did with their body. Themselves? It was hard for Julia to even think about what they were to each other. Julian was more of the thinking type, and irritatingly slow drawl in his voice that made her want to shake him. Which she couldn't, because if she had hands, he didn't have a voice, and back and forth. Not to say that he always got on her nerves, but years and years of being and living with the same person tended to wear on one. Even if they were as eclectic as Julia. Or maybe especially if they were like her. She loved to run across busy roads, experiment, sleep with people she didn't know. She liked to run in the rain with umbrellas and make messes. He didn't. Well, he didn't appreciate being wet, of waking up in places she had left them for the night. Nor did he appreciate questions that got asked about the 'pretty little girl' who'd suddenly left and then the 'fuckin' bastard' showed up in her place.
Julian would not be approving, or appreciating, what she was doing right now. Entertaining whoever cared to see, body angled forward, hands roaming in places polite girl's didn't touch themselves in public. And when the audience wanted a touch, she left them, sliding off the jacket, hinting at something else by raising a leg, undoing the laces on her boots.
To the observer the welcoming, wide eyed and yet far from innocent young woman tilted her head to the side, leaned back into the embrace of a young man... and revealed herself to suddenly not be a young woman at all. But rather, there was some important anatomical things that made her very much male.
Julian was not appreicative of the position she'd put him in. Not at all.
Unsurprisingly, neither was the crowd.
After the first punch he was running, cursing Julia for loving clunky, combat-style boots, skirts and all other manners of whatever else she'd put on. He was betting that she trashed the apartment again too. He heard her laughing, exhilirated, but not minding at all that he was getting short of breath. Or that they were sharing a black eye. He cared very much, so much that he didn't see the car coming.
But he didn't feel it either, when he should have. The heavy boots sank into the sand, reminding him of the brief trip to the Southwest. But the air was far heavier, water laden. It was a beach?
She sat down, pulling her feet out of the boots and wiggling her toes in the sand. And she wondered if anyone cared if she went for a swim.
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