so yesterday i was in london and i tripped up at the tube station and was helped up by this guy so i told my friend
and just now my friend sent me a link to this craigslist ad
I AM IN DISBELIEF
Update: i have now procured a date
Hey there, back with part two of this lovely AU inspired by frustradpen06, including her OC Michael Kanker. You should go read her awesome kevedd fanfiction! So it has been decided Jinx Chance is definitely a girl in this one. Anyway, enjoy, also, slight warning of attempted violence.
Somehow, Jinx Chance managed to bear her constant antagonist with dignity, thanking whoever was there that it was Friday at last, and it was almost time to return to her comfortable reading, having made plans to catch up on her Fitzgerald over the weekend. The mere thought of the quiet evening brought a smile to her lips, and unfortunately, Jay caught it.
He smirked and winked at her, “Right here babe, no use daydreaming about me when the reality’s sitting in flawless color.”
The brit’s smile vanished and she snapped, sighing inwardly, wishing she could think before speaking sometimes, “Idiot, I was going to read F. Scott Fitzgerald when I went home. I’m sure you’ve never heard of him.” Her smile was icy, and he gaped at her, trying to process a witty reply. Instead, she was surprised to hear a low chuckle from the redhead next to him she hadn’t noticed except as an extension of Jay’s band of rebels. He cut grey eyes to meet her sharp blues as he said slowly, “Better give up Jay while you’re still under negative one hundred wins.”
She felt a flush in her cheeks and bit her lip, dropping her gaze to her empty desk, suddenly shy. She didn’t understand why, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him, even though he obviously didn’t like how Jay treated her. Then again, where had he been the past three days?!
She whipped around, the braid that was her hair adding a nice snapping effect, and said waspishly, glaring at him, “I don’t need a backup singer.”
The greaser sent to do the dirty work of the others, only answered simply, tilting his head in slight puzzlement, “I wasn’t trying to be.”
His open honesty startled her after Jay’s constant stream of smartass retorts, and she didn’t look away this time. After a moment or two of a silent staring contest, she smiled slightly.
Jay noticed the exchange and his eyes darted between the two of them, uncertainty strange in his normally cocky face. But before any could say another word, the bell rang, and a sea of humanity burst from the school, carrying them off in its dividing tides.
“I just can’t get her out of my head,” mumbled the redhead to no one, stepping back from his pride and joy, a motorcycle he had found in a junkyard and was currently fixing up himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a dark grease stain that plenty of girls would swoon over, though he wasn’t thinking about that. Or any girls really, the exception only one in particular. Maybe a ride would clear his head of shy girls in sweaters with a quick tongue that he wouldn’t mind seeing if it was as spicy as her quick wit—damn it.
Definitely a ride.
The streets were practically empty this late, starlight filtering weakly through the smoky clouds covering the city, every street familiar—comforting almost in their reliability, their constancy in this jungle of metal, always a turn here, a ramp there, the yellow dotted line endlessly winding around and around the skyscrapers and dingy apartments, the hi-tech banks and the green meadow parks.
Though he could still hear sirens in the distance, and cars would zoom past him, uncaring, he felt as if he were the only one following the twisting streets. The city was alive, and though he was a part to play in it, on his cycle, he could detach himself, mind focused on riding his steed, nothing else. Till he heard a voice shatter his peace, one familiar, scared but trying to be brave—forcing him to yank the bars in a tight turn towards the alley.
“Fuck off!” Why had she gone this way tonight? It had been late already when she left the library, and here she was, shrinking from two delinquents with leering faces, laughing and swiping at her skirt. Damn it, why had she allowed her brother to convince her to wear it? Every moment ticked down and she knew with a sinking feeling she was going to die. She couldn’t fight, didn’t know how, but she stood her ground. She would die as close to her own terms as she damn well pleased.
But before she had finished accepting the supposed inevitable, a motorcycle careened around the corner, scattering the two cowardly greasers.
Her first thought? Dear God, please let this not be a mafia leader meets school girl dime-store romance paperback.
Then she recognized the helmetless redhead with steady thunder cloud eyes, and glared at him, wishing she wasn’t trembling with relief. She protested, weaker than she might have liked, “I had it handled!”
He didn’t say a word, only gave her a look that said it all.
She bit her lip and trained her gaze on the ground, too stubborn to admit out loud that she was grateful for the help. Even if only coincidental. She cleared her throat and jerked her head up, surprised enough that he was still watching her curiously that she blurted her thoughts, “L-let me buy you a cone or something, alright?”
Surprise flickered in his eyes and he was too shocked to do anything but nod. What had she gotten herself into?
Shout out to those followers who are the one note to your shitty posts