I wish I could leave my heart out of this. --Leave My Heart Out of This, Fifth Harmony
💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃
Highlight: In Which She Falls Into The Arms of........ The Taxi Driver From New York???
💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃
I let out a sigh, as my arms give out from the weight of the box.
The apartment was dusty, but I could work with that.
Thankfully, I brought some cleaning materials with me. My hands push aside some boxes I already brought up.
Where is it? Wasn't it in a........ Plastic. Bag.
Then why on earth am I looking for it in boxes??? Urgh.....
And I'm on the second floor of the apartment......
After I retrieved my cleaning stuff, and got it clean, I began to unload the things that would benefit me the most. Cue the winky face.
"Okay...", I murmur to myself. "I've gotten all my things in the apartment already, I haven't unpacked everything yet..."
I glanced around my living room. The television was already set up, as well as the couch.
I just need to worry about my room, the bathroom, and the attic.
But for now, I deserve a reward. To the mall!
💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃
I tapped my fingers on the table and waited for my order.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a guy carrying a drink. He opens his mouth.
"One mocha frappuccino for Fie, my very beautiful girlfriend! Wait, what?", calls out the confused barista.
"Aw thank you, honeybun!", I say, probably costing him his job, I took the coffee from him.
I leaned over the counter, and planted a kiss on his reddening cheeks. I'm pretty sure I accidentally flashed him....
Oh well, that's Cali for you!
💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃
I snapped out of my daydream, as someone waved their hand in front of my face.
"Miss?"
Looking up, I noticed that I was the first person in the line already, and that the people behind of me were getting quite impatient.
Embarrassing....
Can't believe I just daydreamed that....
But where would I be without my precious daydreams? When classes are boring, daydreams are handy. Without daydreams, I'll never get to obsess over my crushes!
Okay, now I'm over exaggerating.
I miss my best friends. We would make up hilarious scenarios of what would happen in the future.
The memories, the laughs, the smiles we shared. I miss them all.
It was a beautiful tragedy, innocence.
A few minutes later, my drink was ready, and I went to get it.
I savored the coffee. Hey, good coffee deserve to be savored. Don't judge.
The sweet taste of mocha, intertwined with coffee filled my senses, blocking out the chaotic world I was facing.
As I was going back to my table, my shoe got caught up with the other, causing me to trip.
I closed my eyes, and brought my coffee up, hoping that I could save it as I welcomed the floor.
Things went haywire after that.
For some reason, my perfectly good coffee was spilled over a guy's shirt, instead being safely snuggled in my hands. I was held by said person, my feet still tangled together.
I stared in distress at my coffee. Its contents were mostly over the guy or dripping onto the floor, joining the cup.
Let's not forget the delectable whipped cream with mocha drizzle, over him as well.
"What the f–"
Okay, rude much? Cuss words are so vulgar!
And, excuse you! Why did you catch me? If you didn't catch me, I would've been on the floor, and my coffee wouldn't be over you!
Wait, this guy....
"Mr. Taxi Driver That I Flirted With in New York?!"
He stopped and stared at me as if I just lost my mind.
"Who?", he asked, looking at me weirdly, forgetting the whipped cream sitting calmly on his left shoulder bone for a moment.
"You! I met you in New York! You drove me to the airport and I flirted with you, right? Why are you here?", I ask in disbelief, words tumbling out of my mouth in a rush.
He pushed me away, and I stumbled a little, before regaining my balance once more.
"Listen here, freak. I have lived here in Beverly Hills for five years, not once have I traveled outside of it. I don't who the hell you flirted with, but it sure wasn't me."
And with that, he left.
I stared after him with my mouth wide open. Quite unladylike of me, if I do say so.
Then, I realized something that I had just ignored, so, I ran out of Starbucks, after the guy, screaming:
"Hey, my coffee!"
YOU ARE READING
The Art Of Movement
Teen Fiction『 I don't dance. 』 At least, not anymore. Dancing was a huge part of me, like my parents and my siblings were. I loved dancing, I really did. Dancing wasn't just a way to express for me, it was also away to be able to move my body gracefully, or t...
