strawberry s w i n g

[Dolores Dunham]

They were sitting

They were sitting on the strawberry swing

[/size]

Most people on a Wednesday morning would be attending classes, at work, or sleeping in if they had dropped out of college and were unemployed or were just unemployed period. Especially at such an early hour. Dolores had the privilege of not having any classes that morning. But did she take advantage of this blessing and stay in bed an extra few hours? No, of course not! Because that would be wasting precious time that she could be using more productively - yes, she was a nineteen year old student, not a forty-year old workaholic. She was simply aware of how lucky she was, having a scholarship to Julliard. She didn't want to disappoint anyone by slacking off and getting kicked out. Not after she had worked so hard to get where she was now. Which was exactly why she was up at such an early hour. Admittedly, the struggle to get out of bed was the same any teenager goes through and included groaning at her alarm clock and slamming her hand repeatedly against the snooze button before she finally decided that it was time to actually get up. Well 'get up' were such strong words. More like roll-off-the-extremely-narrow-bed-and-land-painfully-on-the-floor-on-your-side. And then Dolores spent the next five minutes moaning about her horrible luck and mentally cursing the sheets for getting so tangled, and then spent another minute untangling herself from the sheets before stumbling off to the bathroom. Overall? Not a good start to the day. Her falling off the bed couldn't possibly be a good omen, right? Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid. Yep, she was probably being paranoid. But she was sleepy darn it and you were allowed to be weird and crazy when you were sleepy. And even after the freshened up, she was still stumbling around sleepily. It took her longer than most people to wake up and she definitely was not a morning person. Stifling a yawn, she made her way to the kitchen and pulled out the coffee pot. She'd never been much of a coffee person, but found that she suddenly couldn't live without at least one half cup of coffee (half because any more and she would be bouncing off the walls). As long as she dumped a ton of sugar and milk into the cup, she could handle the bitter taste. Well, it still tasted like crap. But it tasted less crappy than it normally would. Did that make sense? Bleh. Who cares?

Rubbing her eyes with her fists, Dolores moved around the tiny kitchen - could it even be called a kitchen? Maybe kitchenette was a better word for it. Whatever. Place Where She Ate And Cooked Her Food. PWSACHF for short. No, even that was long. Damn. Okay, it was back to kitchenette again. Dolores pulled out a bowl, cereal and some milk, fixing herself a quick, cold cereal before padding over to the coffee pot once more. Cereal and coffee didn't exactly mesh well together, but she didn't care very much at the moment. Glancing at her clock, she squeaked when she saw the time, starting to gobble down her breakfast and then grabbing the warm cup of coffee and taking a quick sip - and burning her tongue in the process. Awesome. Moaning in pain, she leaned against the counter and stuck out her tongue, flapping her hand near it, as if that would somehow soothe the pain. Argh. She was such an idiot. And she just - God, she had no time for this! With a regretful sigh, she dumped the rest of her coffee - which didn't really taste any good to begin with, so it wasn't that much of a loss - into the sink before rushing to her bedroom again, almost tripping over her own feet. Which would have been quite embarrassing since, being a dancer and all, she was supposed to be graceful and what-not. And yet she pulled stunts like literally rolling out of bed in the morning and almost tripping over her own two feet. She was just on a roll today, wasn't she? Chuckling at herself, she pulled out her gym clothes - grey sweat pants and a white t-shirt. She threw her hair into a quick pony tail, grabbed her gym bag, shoved her small feet into socks and her trusty white trainers and was out the door, pushing her too-large sunglasses up her nose. They were obviously too big for her face and she was pretty sure she looked like some sort of bug, but they did their job of filtering out the too-bright sunshine. Hah. Too-bright sunshine. She sounded like a vampire or something. Except her skin wasn't burning when she left the apartment complex, thankfully. That would've been worrying -- okay, she needed to focus again. Being distracted while walking the streets of New York was not a good idea. Mentally shaking herself, Dolores headed in the direction of the subway. She wasn't in the mood to go driving around, so subway it was.

Ten minutes later, Dolores was walking into the gym, glad that she had made it in time. She was supposed to meet her instructor in five minutes, which meant she had time to put away her things and do a little stretching before he came. She couldn't afford to lose one minute of exercise - Chad was all about timing and if she was late, he would get on her ass about it, and then inform her that he wasn't going to give her extra time from his own precious time just because she couldn't make it on time. Yeaaaah, he was a bit of a douche. But hey he was a great coach so she can put up with his ridiculousness and what-not, because it meant she got a good work-out out of it, so there was that. She had been stretching for ten minutes when she realised that Chad was five minutes late. Which was very strange of him, because Chad was never late. Ever. Not even if there was traffic. Not even if there was the apocalypse - okay, maybe if there was the apocalypse, he might be late, but no one would care anyway since, geez, everyone would be running for their lives if there was one, right? So it wouldn't matter if he was late or not since there might not even be a gym for him to get to and -- yeah, where was she going with this again? Lola frowned, straightening up and peering around, seeing the usual customers...but no tall, beefy Chad. Hmm. Okay, now she was a little worried. What if something had happened? Like...what if he had gotten in a car accident? Chad could be somewhere in the streets of New York trapped in an over-turned car with no way out. Or he could have been run over and splattered on the floor - ew, what a disgusting image, okay she really didn't want to think about that. Gross, gross, gross. Or maybe there had been a burglar and he was being held hostage. Or maybe he'd been murdered. Or - or maybe he was just late for once and she was being a drama queen and freaking out for no reason. It was probably the latter. Still, she fetched her phone from her gym bag and almost fell over when she saw she had a text message. Evidently, Chad was busy with some sort of family emergency - maybe his grandma had died, or his wife was giving birth, wait did he even have a wife? She'd never really asked and hadn't noticed a wedding ring on his finger -- well anyway. He had asked someone else to be her instructor for the day. Okay, good, well, at least she knew she didn't have to worry about her trainer's brain matter being splattered in the middle of the streets.

Running her fingers over her hair, Lola squatted down on the floor, crossing her legs Indian style and cradling her cell phone in her lap, brown eyes searching the gym once more in hopes of finding her supposed trainer. She sincerely hoped he knew how to find her, because she sure as hell had no idea what he looked like. If it was even a he. Maybe it was a she. Goodness, she hoped it was a he, she -- err, female -- trainers could be quite annoying and scary sometimes. And yes, she did mean that they were more intimidating than male trainers. Well, sometimes. Rolling her eyes, Dolores glanced down at her watch. S/he was now almost fifteen minutes late. Seriously? Seriously?

She would get stuck with someone who had horrible timing.

TAGGED: Alan Briggs

[Alan Briggs]

Swing, swing, swing

from the tangles of

“Meh,” Alan groaned as the alarm clock sounded for the third time that morning. Hitting the snooze button again was not an option. How did the saying go? ‘Third time’s the charm’? Oh God, it was too early to be thinking about that. What he should be thinking about was coffee, hmmm, yes, good, hot coffee for the chilly autumn mornings that were getting colder and colder. Sometimes—just sometimes, mind—he missed summer and the promises and tourists, and bustle of activity it brought to the city. Not that New York needed any more activity, but you know, the craziness of it all, the flurry of colors and smells and people…yeah, it was something Alan had learned to appreciate over the course of time. Now, now it was just autumn, and he had no desire whatsoever to get out of his comfy, warm blankets to go out and, once again, pretend he was still going to school. Alan had half a mind to pretend he was having yet another day off, but he feared that he was pushing his luck. So far, nothing had gone awry and given him away to his parents—him staying in for a second time in a row was probably tempting Fate too much. It was, wasn’t it? Groaning, Alan threw back his covers and stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments, allowing his body to catch up with his brain. Seriously, it took him about half an hour to connect the dots and figure out that ‘yes, he was indeed awake’, and about an hour more to function properly. It was hell, really. Especially when the smell of freshly brewed coffee floated into your nostrils and you wanted to jump out of bed to go and grab a cup. Except, you know, his legs weren’t exactly cooperating. Dammit. As he groaned pitifully in his bed, and tried to smother the exquisite smell by burying his face in his pillow again, he heard a knock on his door that made him stop his complaining and perk up his ears. Could it be true? “Alan?” his mother called out rather hesitantly. Sitting up, Alan started to panic. Shit, shit, she was gonna come in, and question him why he wasn’t ready for school yet and then things were going to start getting out of hand and soon he’d find himself confessing to the whole, miserable truth and—“Alan, did you oversleep? You’re gonna be late for school. Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got coffee ready for you downstairs.”

Or you know, just that.

Falling back in bed, groaning yet again, Alan rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and tried to calm his racing heart. This had to stop. Soon. He was going insane with all the paranoia, and lately, a strange feeling was starting to take over his mind. A strange feeling that he wasn’t sure he liked at all. A strange feeling that most people label as guilt, and which Alan was slowly discovering that it was a right pain in the ass. Every single time he watched his mom, or she asked him something vaguely related to school, he would tense like an amateur liar and look for any excused outing to get the hell out of there. What was wrong with him? Oh, it was easy. He was suddenly sprouting a conscience from God knows where. Which, you know, sucked for someone who was trying his damnedest to upkeep a lie as big as this one. Closing his eyes for a moment, Alan abruptly sat up again when he started to doze off. Okay, yeah, no. He had to get a move on. Sluggishly getting out of bed, he yawned hugely as he sifted through his drawers in search of something appropriate to wear. He wasn’t really feeling the formal vibe lately, and truth be told, he was probably gonna go to Agatha’s place and end up crashing on her couch, like he was constantly doing nowadays, so why put any type of effort in what he was going to wear? Idly pulling out a pair of dark shorts and a gray t-shirt, he pulled them on without much thought as to what was the front and what was the back. Cracking the curtain a little, he winced when the sun hit him fully on the face. Sunglasses. Definitely. Searching for them at the top of his messy bureau, he cursed when he saw the time on his digital wall clock. “Shiiit,” he hissed as he grabbed his sunglasses and his favorite beanie off the surface and started semi-jogging down the stairs. It was seriously a wonder how his legs seemed to cooperate in a burst of adrenaline. When he reached the kitchen, however, he was stopped by his mother, who held out a cup of coffee and jutted out her cheek, a clear indicator that he was going nowhere unless he took the coffee and kissed her goodbye. “I’m late, woman!” he complained, trying to grab the cup of coffee from her hand and make a run for it, but she wasn’t having any of it. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head at her. “You’re impossible, did you know that?” he asked rhetorically, setting down his overnight bag (something he always carried with him) and took the cup of coffee from her. “While that might be true, Alan dear, you still adore the living daylights out of me. Now, give me my kiss, you misbegotten child.” Grinning, he took a gulp of the coffee first, cursed when it scalded his tongue, got his mother to curse him for cursing, and finally kissed her on the cheek. “You’re not my son when you say that kind of crap!” she called out after him as he slammed the door behind him and jogged all the way to his car. It was true. He loved her more than he would ever be able to explain. Shaking his head, a goofy grin still on his face, he unlocked his car, threw his overnight bag on the backseat and was about to get in the car when his mobile started ringing. Frowning as he shifted his coffee cup from hand and juggled his keys, he wondered who would be calling at such an early hour. Everybody that knew him knew he wasn’t an early riser, so calls like this were extremely rare. Finally able to dig out his mobile from his pocket, he looked at the screen and grew even more puzzled as he saw the name. Why was Chad calling him? Alan had just seen him the other day at the gym, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Accepting the call, Alan leaned against the frame of his car and greeted his work out buddy. “What’s up, man?” Taking a sip of his coffee at that moment turned out to be a bad idea, as he ended up spraying it everywhere, burning his chin in the process. Cursing colorfully for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day already, Alan shook his hand to get rid of the scalding liquid and in an incredulous voice asked, “Dude, it was today?” Setting the cup of coffee on top of his car to avoid further accidents, he ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?” The resounding ‘duh’ was solely implicated. “Well, no shit, man! Now I’m gonna look like the biggest, most irresponsible instructor—yeah, whatever. Sure, sure. Alright. See ya.” What do you know? Turned out Alan was indeed really late for something. Sliding into his car, he revved the engine and waited for it to warm up. He’d absolutely forgotten—how typical—that Chad had asked him to cover for him with one of his instruct-ees at the gym last week when they’d both met at the gym themselves. He was having a whatever thing with whoever, and Alan, having free days at his will had agreed amicably enough. Thing was, Alan happened to have a sucky memory for stuff like that, and had asked Chad to text him about it endlessly so that he’d remember. Apparently, the guy had gone a step further than that and had programmed an alarm into his mobile, so that it rang an hour early than normal. Alan, of course, hadn’t heard it. Or well, he had, but he really paid no notice to it. If Chad really thought that he was gonna wake someone like Alan up with a simple buzz, he was sorely mistaken, as he’d just proven. It wasn’t until his real alarm had gone off that Alan had finally registered it was morning. And now, he was late. Like, forty minutes late, give or take a few. Rolling his eyes as he adjusted the rearview mirror, he put his car on reverse and accelerated softly. Only to have a splash of dark liquid splash into his windshield. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled as he quickly set the car on park and got out, just in time to see his coffee cup roll innocently to the ground. Narrowing his eyes at it in a furious glare, he flipped the cup off and slid back into his car, this time backing out of his driveway with screeching tires and a trail of curse words fluttering out his open window.

Yeah, yeah, it was autumn, and yeah, it was chilly. Alan got it, but was it really necessary for people to stare at him as if he were nekkid as he got out of his car in only low slung shorts and a t-shirt? What was wrong with them? He’d pulled his beanie on. That counted for something, right? He was glaring at them all, anyway. Not that they would notice, considering he still had his shades on, but whatever. Pulling his overnight bag out of the back of his car, he slammed the door shut and proceeded to make his way to the inside of the gym. He was like, a gazillion hours late, and it was all his fault, and he didn’t give a damn. As a matter of fact, he’d decided not to give a damn for health reasons, when he’d almost given the guy at the register at Starbucks an apoplexy when he shouted obscenities to his face and demanded he have coffee now. Nope, not a morning person was he. After he’d had his venti espresso though, things had considerably gotten better. Mildly, mind you, but better all the same. After being kicked out of said coffee establishment (drink in hand, of course), he’d decided that if he was going to be late, he was going to do it right for once. He’d been in Long Island, and the gym was on Queens. His plans of crashing at his cousin’s place for an extended morning nap had crashed and burned before he’d even gotten into his car, and all in all, he was having a pretty crappy morning. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the gym today. But that’s what he got for trying to be a nice guy for once. Fuck that. He was destined to be a jerk, he knew it, so he should just as well try to stop the course of destiny by doing some idiosyncratic favors here and there. Alan Briggs, jerk extraordinaire. Hell, it even sounded right. Certainly much better than: Alan Briggs, a friend you can always count on. Please. Long phrases never managed to become catch phrases. They simply didn’t do the trick. So, when he finally breezed in to the gym, greeting the appropriate people and smiling at the newcomers, he checked in at Mathilda’s ‘desk’, which was just the receptionist’s counter, and asked for Chad’s instructing client at eight. Mathilda raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the clock that was across from them, and Alan wrinkled his nose. “I know, right? But what’s a guy to do?” Shaking her head at him, she handed him a slip of paper, and Alan read in her messy scrawl: Lola Dunham. Greaaat, it was a girl. Which meant, bitching. And at such an early hour too. Groaning, he dragged his feet to one of the benches and threw his bag on it, pulling a towel out of it and placing it around the back of his neck. “Lola Dunham?” he called out shamelessly. “I’m going to be your instructor for the day, and you’re already late, so could you please hurry up and show yourself?” Hah, yeah. Make it her fault. It never worked, but Alan still loved doing it. He was always faultless as far as he was concerned.

[Dolores Dunham]

Every moment was so precious

They were sitting

[/size]

There had to be some sort of stronger word than "late" to describe what this guy was, because late just wouldn't cut it. Oh sure she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt -- about twenty minutes ago. But now he was just beyond late. Now...now he was bordering on no-show. And seriously, if he wasn't going to show up he should have at least had the decency to get her number from Chad and text her or call her or SOMEthing. She could have worked out on her own - although, that probably wouldn't happen. There was a reason why she needed an instructor. Oh sure she had the perseverance to practice for hours on end on her dancing. But actually being in a gym and working out on her own? For some reason, she never seemed to be able to do that. She always needed either a work out buddy or an instructor to tell her what to do or to inspire her to keep going. Working the machines had always been a difficulty for her, too. The one thing she could actually use without instruction was the treadmill, and that got really boring after a bit. Because seriously running on the spot can only stay interesting for very long. And lifting weights on her own? Forget it. She'd end up going for something so heavy she'd probably lose her balance or crush her body with it or drop it on her foot and end up in the hospital, or something so easy that she'd get cocky and go for something much heavier and then end up in the hospital. So yeah, no, working out on her own wouldn't work. Maybe that was why Chad hadn't canceled and had instead appointed another instructor to make sure that she actually did exercise. And honestly, if it wasn't for that cinnamon bun that she had had last night that she was still feeling guilty over, Dolores would've probably just said 'screw it' and flounced off. But as it were, she had had that cinnamon bun. She couldn't help herself! She'd just passed by Cinnabon on her way back from classes and the smell of fresh baked goods had been so good and so tempting and it had all but seduced her. Seriously. It was just like the cartoons - the scent was a finger and had crooked in front of her nose and dragged her in and she, like an animated character, had followed it into the shop, practically drooling because it just smelled so good. It was practically dragging her in. Who was she to resist it? And it was so worth it when she sank her teeth into the mouth-watering, hot cinnamon bun and tasted the yummy taste of cinnamon and - and - hell, she was drooling just remembering how amazing it had tasted. Mentally shaking herself, she distractedly wiped a hand against her chin just in case and looked around again, remembering why she was here in the first place.

The instructor was still no where in sight.

Huffing loudly, Dolores fiddled with the ends of her sweat pants and glanced at her cell phone once more, checking the time. Okay, s/he was officially forty-five minutes late. What the hell? Obviously, she'd been stood up. By someone she didn't even know. Oooh, she needed some ice for that burrrn. Snorting at her own thoughts, Lola let out a sigh and flopped back onto the ground, her head pillowed by her gym bag. Okay, she'd wait fifteen more minutes and then if they were still a no-show she'd just leave and go to the dance studio at Julliard and work it off that way. Although, really, she didn't know why she was still clinging onto the hope that he or she - she was thinking it was probably a he, female's tended to be more punctual. Then again, this was New York - would show up. It was very possible that he was stuck in traffic. Or one of the things that she had thought might have happened to Chad had happened to him. Like car accident or something. Or maybe the subway had broken down, if he was taking the subway. Or maybe he really had just stood her up. Maybe he'd forgotten. She would get someone with the memory span of a goldfish. Never mind the fact that she probably would have done the same in his position since she didn't exactly have the memory of a goldfish. But hey she was moping and pissy she wasn't in the mood to paint him in a good light at the moment. Lola sighed and looked down at her cellphone again. Okay, this was ridiculous. The instructor obviously wasn't going to show up. She was just wasting her time. Hmm, maybe she should just leave. Or she could text Demetri, ask him to skip whatever class he was in and come here and help her out. They weren't that close yet, to be sure. She'd only met him - what, a few weeks ago, in this very gym? He'd been, apparently, scouting for a good gym and happened upon this one and they'd run into each other - quite literally, too, in which they'd both ended up on the floor with Lola awkward sprawled on top of him. There had been your typical awkward "hi, you're on top of me" / "indeed I am..." / "I'm Demetri" / "Lola" / "Nice to meet you. Wanna get a cup of joe?" / "Sure why not". Yep, just your typical NYC meeting. Except not really. But hey, it was funny as hell, even though at the time Dolores had blushed all shades of red. Because hey, who cared if he was a year younger than her - as she later found out? The boy was cute as hell, and she'd always had a thing for blue eyes. That was pretty much the only reason she'd agreed to the coffee date, really. She'd been so befuddled by his good looks she hadn't thought to reject him. It had been nothing serious, though. When he asked for her number, she gave it to him before proceeding to quickly and firmly inform him that she was only giving it to him as a friend. He'd mock-whined about it, but they parted on friendly ways. They'd hung out twice since then and, well, he was a bit of a jerk to be honest, but he was a nice guy, deep down. Or, well, she thought he was a good guy. It might just be his charming ways blinding her. But whatever.

'Course, it was possible that Demetri didn't even have classes and was sleeping in like any normal human being would be doing at this hour, which meant that her calling him would either a) be ignored or b) wake him up, in which case he would most likely bitch her out for waking him up and then hang up in her face because it seemed like a Demetri-thing to do. And she didn't want that. She liked being friends with him, thank you very much. So yeah, calling Demetri's was out. Which meant? She was going to leave. Sigh. Maybe she could go home and sleep a bit. Oooh, that'd be nice. Snuggle up in her nice, warm, toasty covers with Pookie and get a few more hours of shut-eye before her first class. Mmm, how wonderf- her thoughts were cut off when her name called by a distinctly male voice. She shot up instantly, her eyes - which had begun to flutter closed slowly - snapping open once more. She looked around wildly for the source of the noise, following it to it's owner, her eyes narrowing at what he called out next. See? She'd known it would be a he. Ugh. And did he really just accuse her of being late? Inwardly fuming, with the frustrating of having to wait around for almost an hour with nothing to entertain her but the games on her phone - which had sucked away most of her battery, meaning it would probably die before she got home, how awesome was that? - egging her on, Lola got to her feet and all but stomped over to the figure, her mouth already open to give Annoying And Late Instructor a piece of her mind. Of course, and then she actually got a good look at him and her mouth hung open quite stupidly since no words seemed to want to escape. Dangnabit, Annoying And Late Instructor was gorgeous. Of course he would be gorgeous. Of course he would have breathtaking blue eyes and an amazing jaw line and floppy brown hair and - and - and ugh the Fates just hated her, didn't they? She mentally shook her fist in the direction of the heavens before remembering she was still staring at him like a guppy out of water and slammed her mouth shut, narrowing her eyes. Hot guy or not, he was still a jerk who'd left her waiting for almost an hour. Remember that, Lola.

Sigh. Why was it always that the cute ones were either gay or complete jerks? It just wasn't fair.

Composing herself, Dolores placed her hands on her hips and opened her mouth again. This time, words actually came out. "Listen here Mister Instructor-For-The-Day. IIIIII'm not the one showing up here about an hour late. Youuuu're the one who's late." She poked his chest with her index finger as if to further emphasise the 'you'. And no, she did not notice in the process that it was a very hard chest. Nope, of course she didn't notice. She did let herself notice that he was ridiculously tall. Or well. Taller than her. Namely because she had to tilt her head quite far back to meet his eyes. And what pretty eyes they were -- stop it. Those were bad thoughts. She did not find him attractive. "Glad you finally decided to grace me with your presence, though. You shouldn't have, really. I was just about to leave," she said dryly. Okay, so maybe she was being a bit of a bitch. But hey, she hadn't had her morning coffee specifically to avoid being late, only to find out that she was practically being stood up and it was really all just an annoying situation and it was just not a good day for him to be so late. Still. She supposed she was overreacting a little. Just a little, mind. "Well, at least you did show up. Can we get started now?" Her fingers rose to her hair automatically, tucking stray pieces of hair behind her ears and pulling slightly at her pony tail to tighten it, an eyebrow arched questioningly as she waited for a response. Sooner they got started, the sooner she could go home and sleeeeep.

[Alan Briggs]

From the tangles of

my heart is crushed

She was a shrimp. Like, no, seriously, she was a shrimp! Chad had told him that it was going to be a nice, short session that the client was going to give him no trouble, but seriously? Alan wasn’t entirely worried about that now. As he watched her approach, he had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from snorting right then and there. That girl was short. Too short. With a huge attitude to boot. Oh God, this was going to be amusing. Clearing his throat to clear any vestigial residues of his amusement, he raised his eyebrows at her, his hairline touching his beanie as he looked down at her, arms crossed in front of his chest. It was a shame he didn’t have his coffee with him still, because the moment could’ve been made ten times more awesomely condescending if he’d been able to take a sip from his venti and just…stare. Aha. After listening to her rant for a couple of moments, he sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “How can you be so sure I’m the one who’s late? For all I know, I could’ve been here hours before you, and you hadn’t even noticed, because you didn’t know I was going to be your instructor.” It was fun arguing childishly. Really, it was. And Agatha sucked at it, because she gave up on him by throwing her arms up in the air and calling “YOU SUCK!” before storming out of the room. She had a knack for doing that, Alan had noticed in the past years, so he’d simply stopped trying to annoy her beyond what was normal. This girl here, though, she sure seemed to have quite the temper and obstinacy. “Therefore, you’re the one who’s late,” he concluded simply as he shrugged and started rummaging through his bag. “Now, do you wish to start, or do you seriously want to waste more of my time by throwing us even more off-schedule by your self-righteous ranting?”

He had good social skills, seriously, he did. They weren’t showing right now because he was too busy being the jerk he normally was, but on any other good day, Alan was the smoothest, suavest criminal out there. The word criminal being taken lightly, of course. Way too lightly. Alan wasn’t that kind of guy. At least not yet. Who knew what he could be tomorrow? For all he knew, at this exact time, next week, he could be in the back of a patrol car, being escorted to jail. Oh, badass. Then, Lola had to go and poke him on the chest, and he was snapped out of his awesome fantasies. “Yes?” he asked, almost snootily. Great. Apparently he was also good at bringing up his ‘preppy boy’ upbringing, as Agatha so sweetly put it most of the time. But hey, Alan was nobody to go and deny that most of the time. He had been brought up in a neighborhood and place where everybody was…well, loaded. It showed too, by how he looked, how he talked and how he dressed. Even now, with the clothing he was wearing, they were all designer. Alan simply chose not to be ostentatious about it. It was a pain in the ass when people did it, so why would be turn into whatever annoyed him so much? He passed.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaimed obnoxiously before thumping her on the back rather noticeably. She wanted to start? Fine. Alan still wasn’t really in a fully functioning mode, and he was sure his witty comebacks were gonna suck for the next hour or so, but whatever. His espresso had started to kick in, so he wouldn’t be so useless. He figured he’d be able to instruct her, for like, half hour or so. Not because she would not be able to handle it—he eyed her condition and noticed she was rather fit—but because he would be the one in danger if they went beyond half an hour. He did snort there. Pathetic. Out-fitted by a girl. Now, if that wasn’t a blow to the ego. But Alan consoled himself thinking that it was too early in the morning, and he could play competitive later. Perhaps in the evening, when it started to sink in that a girl was in better physical shape than him, maybe then his pride would start to prickle and he’d have to do something about it. Right now, he wanted to sleep, while Lola—didn’t. God, why were gym attendees such freaks? Yes, he was aware that also enveloped him up to some degree, but he’d come to terms with that fact about him a long time ago. Now, he was free to whine about them other freaks to his heart’s content. “Okay then, let’s start with some warm up exercises to loosen your muscles a bit. I bet you’re quite stressed,” Alan said with a smirk as he raised his arms above his head and held his left wrist with his right hand, indicating Lola should follow his movements. “Now, reach for the ceiling,” Alan commanded as he drew out the last word and he did so himself, even standing on tiptoes to continue the stretching all the way through his abdominal muscles to his calves and the plant of his feet. Closing his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation, he held the position for a couple of seconds before he released and exhaled. Truth be told, he hadn’t even considered opening his eyes to check if she was doing it right; he figured that she was a regular, and these things were fairly familiar to her, which meant Alan wasn’t going to have trouble with her…much. She was also a girl, and as fit as she may be, he wouldn’t be able to give her the same workout routine he used on himself, because she wasn’t going to be able to take it. Too much weight on the lifts, and that girl could end up crushed underneath them. Not a good image to kick off the day.

Next, he crossed his right arm across his chest so that it stuck out on the left side, and he held it there with his right arm, swinging it lightly to get more stretching marks. Inhaling, Alan looked up at the ceiling. Really, why had he accepted this? It had to be more than trying to be a good guy. He didn’t even like Chad that much, to be honest. He was too burly, too toothy, and too loud. Everything Alan didn’t like at all. But hey, they were gym buddies, right? Besides, the guy sure knew how to ask for things. He’d said all the right things, and stroked his ego to the point in which Alan couldn’t say no. Damn his jock qualifications. That’s what sucked big time. It didn’t take long to figure out that one of the things that made Alan the proudest, and what would make him say yes to almost anything—even to people he disliked, like Chad the Cheeseball. Frowning, he changed from his right arm to his left arm and exhaled and inhaled. He would have to start thinking about things—ooh, threatening. Smirking, he rolled his eyes at himself and shifted his weight from foot. Now, he was stuck here in an ungodly hour, helping a girl he didn’t know with her physical fitness whatever program. Sure, she was pretty, and sure, she had like, nine of the requisites Alan asked for in a girl, but that didn’t change the hour, or the fact that all he wanted to do was leave and crash in a couch somewhere. Lola Dunham. Her name sounded attractive, even in his mind, and it fit her, somewhat. Her features were girly and her hair—Alan coughed. Her hair was really something else. See, he had a thing for girls with long hair. And dark hair. Now, if only she’d been tall, maybe he would’ve been able to shake off his sleep stupor to pay more attention to her. Except she wasn’t tall, and Alan really didn’t want to be there. “How tall are you?” he asked randomly as he dropped his arms and started rolling his shoulders, like a continual shrug. “You can’t be taller than five foot four, am I right?”

[Dolores Dunham]

They were talking under

the strawberry swing

[/size]

Did he seriously - did he seriously try to argue with her? Lola's eyes automatically narrowed. Was he kidding? She was the one who'd been sitting on the floor, looking like a pathetic homeless for the past hour, and he had the gall to continue to pin it on her?! "Well, What's-Your-Face -" Well, he hadn't given her his name had he? What else was she supposed to call him? He has such a pretty face, mm and those eyes, and those arms- SNAP OUT OF IT! She shook her head slightly, as if that would get rid of those very dangerous, very bad thoughts. Guh. The fates would grace her with a beautiful specimen of a man to be her instructor. And they had to make him annoying as hell, too. Rawr, she wanted to go up in the heavens and kick someone's butt for dealing out this hand to her. Then again, maybe she was being a tad over-dramatic. Just a tad, mind. But heyyy she was sleepy and she didn't get to have her morning coffee and he was a douche. A very pretty douche, but still. A douche. "-if that is the case, it's not myyyy fault you didn't think to call out for me. I've been sitting over there-" she pointed in the general direction of the spot she had taken up earlier, "-for the past hour waiting for your butt to show up. So IIII'm not the one who's late here." Oh and then he had to throw that whole do-you-want-to-just-stand-here-and-waste-time schpeel and honestly just - grrr. She would take Chad the Muscle-head over this anyday. Although this dude was quite a lot prettier than Chad, not to mention he didn't look like he could squish her like a bug if he wanted to. Seriously, this guy looked like a pipsqueak next to Chad. And yet, he was still twice as big as her. Sigh. She'd learned to accept her height long ago, but then she met mammoths like him and suddenly she felt like a shrimp. There was a reason why her twitter name was "dancingshrimp". She was perfectly aware of her tininess. It just didn't bother her as often. Especially when people saw her dancing. Because she might be tiny, but she was a big dancer and blah blah blah all that other stuff her coaches used to tell her and which did hold true but whatever. It wasn't like she liked to go on about it whenever people pointed out her height. Or lack thereof.

Oh God, he was so obnoxious. This day was just not going the way she wanted to. She wished she'd decided to leave earlier. Then she could be cozied up in her bed and he would be stood up. The thought made her a lot happier than necessary. She was pretty evil when she didn't have her coffee boost, okay? And he was being all...annoying and stuff. Oh God, she hoped she could escape from this training session soon. He didn't look very fit, to be honest. She eyed him critically. Definitely not a body builder like Chad or whatever. She doubted he had ever been a coach to anyone before. She would bet anything that Chad and he were just friends or work-out buddies and Chad had picked him out of the blue because he couldn't think of anyone else. Great, and now she was stuck with a snooty, annoying boy - err, young man? - who probably wouldn't know how to give her a proper work-out. Gosh, she hoped he wasn't sexist or something. She didn't need him giving her flimsy weights and what-not. That would really make him all the more annoying. And now they were starting in on warm up exercises. She had to bite her tongue to point out that she had already stretched. That had been an hour ago, there was no harm in stretching again. Especially since - damn him - he was right. The wait and his general annoyingness had made her all tense and working out when you were already tense was not a good idea. Oh sure her muscles didn't cramp as badly as someone who was out of shape's muscles would, but that didn't mean they didn't at all. And working out with tightly-wound muscles? Not a good idea. Although how relaxed she'd manage to get them to be with him being a super jerk, she wasn't sure. Then again, maybe she was being too quick to judge. Maybe he wasn't a jerk. Just not a morning person. It was pretty early in the morning. Plus, living in New York didn't exactly help if you weren't a morning person. Maybe there was an actual reason that he was late. Ugh, why was she making excuses for him? Did she actually like him? Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Shaking herself, she focused on the exercise, rising on her tip-toes and stretching out her arms slowly and gracefully, keeping her body completely straight. She could feel every muscle stretch and it brought a slight smile to her lips because it was almost as if she was doing ballet rather than stretching. Except when she finally fell back on her heels, it wasn't into a plie. Lowering her arms, she looked at him expectantly, waiting for the next instruction. Even though she really didn't need it. She was perfectly capable of warming up by herself. But it probably wasn't a good idea to let him know. She'd already made herself out to be enough of a snarky loud-mouthed bitch. No need to make him think she was actually like that. Because she wasn't! She was just...having an off morning. Yep. Copying his movements, she hummed quietly under her breath, enjoying the stretching sensation. Oh sure, sometimes warming up before a work out could appear to be boring and a waste of time, but she knew better than anyone that if you didn't warm up, you were going to regret it later when you woke up and couldn't even bend your pinky without feeling pain. She was about to go into her next position when he asked his next question. Blinking owlishly, she arched an eyebrow. What significance did her height have - oh no he didn't! Was he...was he making fun of her height? Lola's jaw fairly dropped. Gah, she hated it when people pointed that out. Yes, she was short. Get over it. There were short people, there were average-sized people, and there were tall people. She just happened to be on the short side of the spectrum. Okay, so maybe she was over-reacting, and maybe he hadn't meant to poke fun at her height or whatever but hey she was quite sensitive about it. Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "Actually, I'm 5'2," she responded, quite huffily. Her sneakers gave her a bit of a rise, so she didn't blame him for guessing wrong. Almost all the shoes she owned elevated her a little, to be honest. "And don't you dare mock me, either. Not everyone can be giant-sized like you, Mr. I'm-over-six-feet-tall." She rolled her eyes and dropped her arms. "I'm just...I'm funsized." Funsized? What the hell? She didn't even know where half the stuff that came out of her mouth came from anymore. The filter between her brain and mouth was damaged or something. That had to be the explanation for all the random stuff coming out of her mouth, right?

Running a hand over her hair once more - she half-wished she could pull it out of the pony tail and properly run her fingers through her hair, but that would take too much time - Dolores heaved a soft sigh and scuffed her sneakers against the floor. "Okay, sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. You were asking a perfectly innocent question. I'm just defensive about my height and people saying short people can't dance or don't have enough presence or whatever. Making them eat their words after they see me is great though." She grinned suddenly. Okay, yeah, the filter was definitely damaged. She had no idea where that had come from. Was she actually - dare she think it - making conversation with Mr. Non-Punctual Jerkish Cutie? Evidently, she was. Albeit random conversation that he probably wasn't following. Shaking her head and making her pony tail swish, Lola smiled sheepishly. "Anyway. Never mind. We should go back to the work out."

She was officially bipolar.