As they shuffled out the door, Chase fiddled with his hands, a small smile sliding across his face.
Brittany scoffed inwardly. He hadn't exposed himself as a mafia boss with a rad scar across his toned tattooed chest yet. Maybe the exchange student was another boring backround character the authour would randomly kill off so she wouldn't have to write any more dialogue and could pass it off as humour.
Well, she couldn't let such a fine specimen get away without giving him a chance first, even if it meant she had to shoot the first shot.
Brittany cleared her throat.
"Are your parents artists-"
"No, they're accountants."
He grabbed a slip of paper from the pocket of his sexily sagging jeans. Brittany caught a quick glance of messily scrawled cursive digits before it was crumpled and shoved into her left nostril.
"That's why I'm so good with numbers. ;;)"
Wow.
