You walked with books in your arms, to see a music room. You had heard of the infamous host club which had lived and survived in this very school.
You were a transfer from america. You had (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes.
You were in the usual when it came to school clothing. A yellow dress with cuffs and a red ribbon around the neck. You hated it. You were a tomboy, but hid it around most friends. You couldnt find many trustworthy people in the school. It was mostly full of whores and your local neighborhood drug dealers. You continued to walk through the halls, and tripped. Damn bananas peels. When you looked up you saw a tall young man who seemed to be in quite a hurry. Blood rushed to your cheeks, you were so embarassed. He smiled and reached out his hand. You suddenly realizrd you were on the floor and got up and began to collect your things. "You know some people consider that to be rude, leaving people hanging!"
He bent down to your level and helped pick up your books.
You had to admit, he was kinda cute. That is if cute translated as closet snob. You stood up quickly, still fazed from the fall. You reached out your hand slightly and smiled nervously. "Thanks.." you said in a low tone and looked down to make sure he didn't see you, red as a tomato.
