day 6

why the fuck is internet-speak sneaking into my commentary for poetry class? i keep using things like capslock for excitement and IMHO on one guy's poem.... and i asked a dude who wrote a depressed little poem "WHO PISSED IN YOUR CHEERIOS?"

i'm not proud of that.

but. seriously. it's like the only forum where i'm supposed to be intelligent right now and i keep sounding like AOL was my friend or something.



also, damn. i coulda had eye candy all next semester. but i chose to have only 2 days of class. what. the. fuck. derek mong's teaching a poetry class and i really, really, really wanna take it now, but no. i can't. mom won't let me, and it's on mondays and wednesdays instead of tuesdays and thursdays.

and all i did was go over to his office after french and chat for a minute while leaning in the doorway and... that probably makes me a creepy stalker but i can't help it! cause he has an office 2 doors down from my class and it's not like i went purposely searching him out... he told us his office number.

anyway. that was a fun chat. especially being told that he's not coming back to hang with us for a day. said he's too busy with his class. hey, buddy, that'd be an effective argument if you weren't facebook surfing at the time. :)

DEREK FUCKING MONG. seriously. why can't i be one of those easy girls that has affairs with a professor? he's tall, dark, handsome, poetic, intelligent, hot and fucking UNAVAILABLE. :(

*sigh*

life @ 23 snippet, maybe. miniwrimo

he presses kisses to her cherry lip glossed lips, dragging the flavor into his mouth with every touch. it's been a long couple of months, what with all the planning they've had to do up to this point for the wedding. and there's nothing he would like more than to just have it over with, but there's still so much left to be done that he's just giving himself this small respite before he gets back on track.

and what a respite it is. everyone's playing laser tag, which they both agreed was well worth it. two games in a three game streak they'd played hard, endorphins spiraling sinuously with every running step. she's radiant, happier here than he's seen her since he proposed. here, amongst her friends, she's happy. it's the third game and he can't help himself. he backs her into a darkened corner, not safe from the shots of the other players, but quiet enough. he can't help himself; he has to kiss her, taste her smile from the inside.

she has one hand against his chest, where his heart is throbbing against her palm, and one hand at the back of his neck, fingertips just grazing his hair. they're pressed from lip to hip against the wall and it's no luxurious couch or bed but he's never felt more comfortable or more solidly grounded than here with her.

they barely notice the lights coming up, though the catcalls filter through. they pull away from each other with a blush as she hears one of her 'brothers' call out to them. "hey, daniel! soph's not that kinda girl. save it for next week!"