gravity

irish dialect

I took my car into town to get a new paint job. Hey, it was my dad's money, I'm sure he wouldn't miss a couple hundred dollars anyway. 

I sat in the waiting room as I decided to get my Jeep painted in a powder blue. I was sketching as I waited for it to be finished. I decided to finish the sketch from last night. It still wasn't perfect and it upset me. Maybe it is because my mom is too perfect to be considered perfect on paper. 

I've erased, smudged, and blended so many times that I had charcoal imbedded into the pads of my thumb and index fingers. Completely forgetting I pushed my brown hair behind my ear and I gently felt the smooth lead touch on the side of my face. I stopped and rolled my eyes. 

I put my sketchbook onto the corner table and headed towards the small room labeled 'restroom'. 

. . . Niall . . .

I've finally made it to this fucking town. My flight took me into Napa County Airport and from there I had a taxi take me to somewhere I could rent a bloody car. 

I was not going to use a car my dad had. He wouldn't let me borrow a car anyways, not after the three I had already wrecked. 

I paid the taxi and entered the building. I looked into the closed garage through a large window and saw a Jeep being freshly painted into some disgusting blue color. I finally looked away from it, but for some reason I couldn't stop looking at the disaster. 

I pulled the door open and a bell jingled on the handle, letting whoever know someone had entered the building. I went to the counter and saw no one. 

I exhaled loudly as I pressed my finger to the little bell on the counter. I did it several times without the satisfaction of having someone come to take care of me. I was starting to get agitated and I was ready to just jump over the counter until the door off to the right opened up. 

A sign said 'restroom' on the door and when the girl finally walked out she held a paper towel in her hand, still drying her hands. She clearly looked annoyed before she dropped the paper towel in the garbage and I let my finger press the bell again. 

She jumped, looking over at me. I raised an eyebrow, giving her a smirk. Her skin was olive-toned, and her hair was a shade of light brown with just a slight wave and rolled down to almost the middle of her back. She was thin but not skinny, and all the right curves in all the right places. She was actually kind of hot.

I had fully realized her nicest feature. I finally looked into her eyes and I almost lost my breath. Her eyes were craziest with gentle mixtures of green and blue. 

She still stared at me, like a little child unable to talk to a stranger. Instead she broke eye contact and went to a seat and picked up a sketchbook with obvious scribbles. That's what it looked like anyway. 

"Do you know where anyone is?"

She just shrugged without letting her hazel eyes look up at me. 

I grew even more pissed off, and I let my fist slam into the counter. She silently jumped as I watched her move a pencil over the paper. 

"What are you drawing?"

She finally looked up at me. "That's none of your business. Besides you should learn to speak a little more clearly. You blend all your syllables."

Well, okay. "Maybe it's the accent?" 

"Doubtful," she looked up at me again, letting her pencil flicker in her fingers. "It's your laziness to the English language. Don't blame your Irish background, I'm sure they can speak clearly." 

"You know you have quite an attitude for someone you don't know."

"Exactly why I have an attitude." She went back to her sketchbook and it started to annoy me. 

I decided to step closer to her. I place my finger onto the sketchbook and push it down. She immediately looks up at me, the anger rising in her eyes. It amuses me. 

"What's your fucking problem?" 

"Me? Oh I don't have a problem," I aggravate her further. 

"You're a real jackass you know that?" 

"Oh, I've been called many things, so yea I know." 

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" She pulls her sketchbook out of my grasp. 

"Why did you give me such an attitude?" 

She rolls her eyes. "Are you trying to be a dick or is this your attempt to flirt with me?"

That makes me laugh. "Please, don't flatter yourself."

. . . Chelsea . . .

"Please, don't flatter yourself." He said it with a smirk, still bending over and leaving only a few inches between us. "You're most certainly not my type."

"Oh thank god!" I say with a battling smirk. "I was starting to worry I was your type, but I think the prostitute, slutty girl is more your taste." 

He raised his eyebrow again. "Why would you say something like that?"

"You don't seem like that guy who would have any type of morals."

He was about to come back with probably something that would cause more damage. I can take a lot of damage, but I was sure the things that come out of his mouth are anything but sweet. 

"You--."

"May I help you?" Rebecca behind the counter said towards him, cutting him off from his own sentence. 

"This isn't over," he mumbled before he turned around to face Rebecca. "It has taken you long enough. I need to rent a car." 

"We don't have rental cars," Rebecca answered and I tried to muffle my laughter.

"My taxi driver said you have rental cars."

"He was mistaken." 

"You should've just rented a car at the airport," I said behind him. "That would be the smart thing to do."

"Aren't you just a perfect smart ass?" He faced me again, clear anger on his face. "Can I use a phone to call my dad?" 

"No cell phone?" I was going to give him hell. He had to put himself on my path of hate, so he was going to get every part of hatred I could give. 

He just rolled his eyes as Rebecca gave him a phone. He dialed a number and placed it up to his ear. It was the first time I looked at his hair. If his ocean blue eyes weren't enough his hair would clearly set me over the edge. The blonde with the brunette roots.

Completely un-Irish. 

"Bob? Yeah, it's me. I need a ride. Some place that does not have rental cars." He looked down on the counter and saw a card and picked it up. "Riley's Body Shop and Mechanics. Okay."

I heard the man on the other end say 'bye' but he hung up before he could say anything in return.