.⋆｡⋆🍯˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
❛ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. ❜
blue romero fled to la when she
was eighteen years old, with
absolutely nothing - not even
a name. all of that changes
just by walking into a bakery.
911 S1-5 BUCK...
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"How do you feel about hot air balloons?"
"Good evening to you too," I greeted Buck on my way down the stairs exiting my apartment.
He grinned, offering his hand as we stepped towards the staircase between the bakeshop and the boutique next door. We both sat down on the stoop and continued our conversation there.
"You didn't answer my question." He stated cheekily.
"Don't you have a graveyard shift tonight?" I wondered. While I was done my work for the day, his was only beginning.
We were gonna meet up the next day for lunch or whatever worked best in the moment, but I guess he wanted to come by earlier.
"In five minutes, I got time," He quickly dismissed, "Now the hot air balloon..."
I shook my head and glanced at the shops across the street. My lips pressed into a line, hoping to suppress my growing smile but I didn't think it worked all too well.
"Buck, I am terrified of heights," I said, meeting his eyes again.
"Okay, umm..." He drawled, with his eyebrows knotted in thought. "I'll take you on a picnic then." He suggested.
I tilted my head skeptically, "A picnic?"
You see, picnics involve planning a meal — and Buck was the kind of guy that could burn water trying to make pasta. I know, because I saw him do it before. I wasn't too sure how well a picnic would go.
His hand laid gently on my back and ran along my shoulders until his arm was draped around them, "Just say yes?"
I shivered under the light touch, and gave him a look, still wary of the idea. But he seemed excited about this, which gave me the impression he might actually have something planned. And he had on that grin I could never say no to.
