"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." A voice behind me says, reciting from the copy of "A Tale of Two Cities" that I held in my hand at Barnes and Noble. "You can't possibly like that. It's so boring. Men getting their heads chopped off for love. It's absolutely ridiculous."
The voice is mostly definitely masculine and had a really heavy accent, like he has had the accent since always and not some imposter trying to find girls.
I spin around to come face to face with some really hot guy with stunning violet blue eyes and midnight jet black hair and cheekbones that could cut me in half.
"I rather adore this book very much thank you and it's a classic," I say as I turn away from the guy and continue to read.
"If you adore it so much, why are you here reading it in aisle at a Barnes and Noble and not at home. Since you adore it so much you must have a copy of it yourself," he smirks and slowly his eyes rake down my body, his dark eyelashes hooding his blue eyes.
I shift uncomfortably from leg to another,
"Of course, I own a copy," I inhale deeply and looked at the floor, "but-um- I kinda sorta lost it."
He laughs at this a deep, manly laugh, "you lost a Dickens? By the Angel, who loses a Dickens? Who loses a book in general?"
I roll my eyes, "yes I lost a book. But at least I know what a book is."
"I know what a book is," he says inspecting his nails.
"I bet you don't know how to read one and you only know about this book because you read it in school," I say and with that I walk away.
That was harsh, I thought, Oh well.
I almost got to the cash registers when I feel something grasp my wrist, "A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it."
I attempt to yank my wrist from his grasp but his grasp is of steel, "Congratulations, pretty boy," did I literally call this guy pretty, great going, "you could Google quotes. Now leave me alone."
He looks as if he's about to say something until a hand grasps his shoulder and he pulls awat from me and turns so I can see who distracted him.
"What is going on here, Will?" says a voice also masculine and also accented. I look over the guy's -Will's- shoulder and see a boy with silvery hair (most definitely dyed) and insanely dark eyes, "we have only been in New York for ten hours and already you have an urge. Honestly, William you have to control yourself."
Despite the voice sounding stern and scolding, his tone was playful.
I slowly back up backwards until I get a good distance between myself and the two foreign guys and turn around and practically run towards the cash register and pretty much throw my money at the cashier and sprint towards the door until the same iron grip grabs hold of my hand again.
I slowly turn around and come face to face with Will, at least I think that's his name.
"I didn't catch your name." he smirks.
"I never threw it for you to catch in the first place," I retorted.
I forcefully yank my wrist out of his grasp and walk away, scowling.
"Your name, dearie!" he shouts after me.
I turn around and slowly tell him my name, so he'll remember it.
"Gray. Tessa Gray."
And I walk away.
