Olivia woke to 313 followers, one being Peep and another verified follow by the name of Lil Xan.
Settling aside her phone, she got ready and made a post to her Instagram story. Immediately, she received a few replies— asking who she was.
So to answer their questions while not answering them, she decided to fix up her bio:
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Within minutes, a knock came to her door and without think too much into it, she swung it open.
In the frame, stood Peep in a leather jacket and a bare chest.
Oddly, he walked himself in and approached her camera set.
"What are these?"
He had picked up one.
"That's a fish eye."
"A what?" he laughed.
"Fish eye, it takes pictures as if you were looking through a peep hole"
"Peep hole, is that suppose to be funny?"
"Your the one who asked, I'm just telling you."
"Show me."
After setting the piece onto her camera, she randomly took a picture of the ceiling.
"See."
He nodded his head, "That's trippy."
"Not really, the film on the lens are just bent into a dome shape, see here."
She held the distressed glass to his visual.
"How much did you pay for all this?"
"I started when I was 18- I've been collecting ever since- this one right here is my first- all together I probably spent about 5,000 on all this."
"What the shit, are you serious?" He asked. I laugh, "Yeah."
"What's this?" He picked up the SD card.
"That's just a blank storage card, that baby costs about $50 dollars at Walmart."
He nodded his head, "Well, I just wanted to come by and introduce myself."
He held out his hand, "I'm Gustav, you can call me Gus, Peep— doesn't matter."
He sat on my bed and watched her place the equipment into a suitcase. Each having its own pouch.
"You still have my jersey, right?"
"Oh yeah, I got it in the restroom I was going to have it washed before giving it back to you, but I could give it back to you now if you want it." She stampeded, apprehensively.
He nodded his head with this smile on his face as she went to go get it— only to come back to see Peep without his jacket on.
"You like my tattoo?" He asked point to the one on his arm, it was a sad Mickey Mouse.
Her brows scrunched, as she approached him. "Why is he sad?"
"Because that's me. . . .
Do you have a tattoo?"
In a suddenly comfort , she sat beside him to him the rose tatted on her ring finger, "Yeah, this one."
He took my hand and looked at it, "Why?"
"Because when I was seventeen I thought it be cool to have it before marriage."
"So you believe in marriage?" He asked.
It was silent for a moment, "Not anymore."
"Me too," he replied— and before it could become awkward, he furthered into question, "Out of all the tattoos I have, which one do you like best?"
Immediately, she began to observe and carefully decided on the card game symbols on his knuckles.
"Okay what about you second favorite?"
"Probably the rose on the back of your hand."
"What about your 3rd?"
"Uh— Maybe the Lisa one on your neck."
In turn, they spent minutes on his tattoos as he explained why he got them. Only for him be surprised by what she told him.
"Do I really have one on my back?"
"Yeah— it's a sad face at the center of your back"
"Don't lie."
"I'm not!" She exclaimed, grabbing at her camera to take a picture to show proof. "See!"
His eyes widen, "What the fuck, that's some crazy shit— when the fuck?"
"I think you have enough sad face tattoos." She commented, saving the photo she took.
