❝WHO SAYS THAT WE HAVE TO LIVE
our youth recklessly? i'm fine
living my own way. i don't have
to dance on tables or dye my
hair crazy colors to prove
i'm young and living life
to the fullest.❞
𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠�...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
Indeed, the two did end up shopping. Being that it was so late in the night, the only place that was still open was the lowly Tesco with its scarcely-populated parking lot.
George was still in the dark about the entirety of Colette's plans for the night, so as they ambled into the store, he shoved his hands in his pockets before asking her to explain her lilac plans.
"What are we going to do?" he struggled to keep up, even though his legs were longer than hers.
Colette didn't even glance at him. Instead, she walked with a purpose. She knew where she was going and she knew that the brown-eyed boy would follow, like a sweet little puppy dog.
"We're going to make this a night to remember." Colette finally offered as they hooked a left and walked towards the beauty products section.
George looked around and wondered how (and, of course, why) women and girls were expected to go to great lengths to pretty themselves up while a majority of the male population walked around looking and smelling like something that one would scrape off of their shoe.
Society was weird.
The boy had stopped in front of a row of lipsticks, varying in shades and colors. He looked over at Colette, who was scanning the aisle for something -- what, he didn't know. George lowered his gaze to her lips and wondered what color they would be. They were bright pink, that was for sure, and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
What the hell are you thinking of, Harrison?, George shook himself out of whatever garden path those thoughts could have led him down.
Yes, Colette was gorgeous. George had known that since the second she walked into the Morning Glory, the bell signalling that an angel had entered the store. However, Colette had John and George might have had Briar.
Think about Briar, you nut!, George chastised himself, but it was too late.
Colette had caught him staring.
"Now, don't look so scared." she had already been walking back towards him. "It's not permanent. I'm sure that your mum would kill me if it was."
He hadn't noticed that she was holding something in her hand, but when his gaze met the little cardboard box with a grinning girl with hair the color of Colette's (but it didn't look nearly as good on her as it did the girl before him -- which was yet another intrusive thought running through George's head), he gasped.
