The Girl in Seat 23 {l.r.h.}

five.

By at the end of that concert, I was practically dragging Gina Delore's drunk body to the car.

"I'm fine, Rosanne," she slurred with a hiccup followed by a drawn out laugh.

I heaved her body forward, forcing her to stand up straight. "You're not drunk?"

She shook her head. "Nope!"

I rolled my eyes. "My name is Rosalie. And you're hammered."

And what would you know, right in front of me stood Luke Hemmings, professional pretty boy. He only said one sentence. No "hi" or anything.

"So is it not in the rainbow?"

"What?"

"Your favorite color."

I was absolutely bent. "No, it isn't. Now either help me get my friend to the car or step aside please."

He raised his eyebrows. He flicked the flower crown carelessly intertwined with the strands of my long brown hair. "Oh yeah, and what exactly are you protesting?"

"Nothing yet, unless you want to say some of that misogynistic nonsense I'm sure is filling that pretty little head of yours." I was a real hot-head, that's for sure.

He made a face at me. "What kind of nonsense?"

"Misogynistic. Buy a dictionary."

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two updates in two days woo hoo! Also, I'm integrating lil 60s phrases (like chop & bent) so if you're confused as to what something means, comment & I'll help. ~Laura :)