Never A Question [open]

[jaclyn]

I've got a pocket full of sunshine

The cool, crisp air licked at her cheeks playfully and the light breeze sent fallen leaves scurrying after her footfalls, weaving in and out of each step she took. Her messenger bag bounced lightly against one hip as she walked and white ear buds lay nuzzled comfortably in each ear. Today her playlist was not of the recent top 40 hits, nor was it indie music from bands that no one knew; no, today the music pulsing in her ears was a combination of everything from Mozart to Eminem. She needed to find the perfect selection of songs, without them she would not, could not move forward with her dance. The music set the pace for the dance, Flick just had the difficult task of picking the songs that would match up with the ideas that buzzed around in her head. The sound was specific, she had heard it before, but finding it. That was an entirely different story. Her finger hovered over the skip button of her mp3 player, always ready to avoid a song that was entirely wrong for her routine. Song after song was skipped and Flick’s frustration grew with each passing song. Amber Pacific? No. Chopin? No. None of it was good enough. Soon Flick found herself lost in the songs, only when she nearly walked into a tree did she realize that she had booked it out of her dorm for a reason.

Quickly, after a quick embarrassed glance around to ensure that no one had seen her antics, she put her mp3 on shuffle and made a line for the amphitheater. There were no performances today, but it was always a nice, peaceful place to get some work done. Flick couldn’t stand being indoors for extended periods of time; the stuffiness of the rooms once the cold weather set in was enough to drive her mad; she preferred the outdoors, the limitless space that she called home and even more if she felt like taking a trip off campus. Many times, when the weather permitted, Flick would venture outside just for the sake of getting out. The weekend was nearly upon the students of Washington University and it was clear that Flick was not the only one excited to have some free time, the entire campus practically brimmed with the electricity that the thought of a weekend could bring. The usual groups littered the grounds as she passed, the guys playing Frisbee, the girls that hovered by the coffee cart gabbing about one thing or another; they all made up the campus and Flick always enjoyed stopping to watch them for a moment.

She lingered for only a moment before she moved on, her sneakers crunching the leaves that lined the sidewalk. Flick found her way to the amphitheater without incident and was grateful to find it vacant. Strolling down the stairs with a bounce in her step, Flick took the last two at once, smiling at the thud her shoes made upon landing. Pulling her bag from her shoulder and swinging it onto a nearby row of seats, Flick found herself getting caught up in the song that suddenly thumped in her ears. It was perfect, just the right transition she had been trying to find for weeks now. Homework meant nothing now, she pulled her sweatshirt over her head to reveal a tight blue tank top and a quick rolling of her sweats would mark any thought of getting work done. Hopping up onto the stage distractedly, Flick turned it up until “S. E. X.” blared from the tiny ear buds.

Soon the girl was lost in her spur of the moment routine dancing as the words flowed through her. Slender hips swung gracefully as her unplanned performance began to take form, Flick was lost in her own world; just her and the music as she willed her body to match the beat.

“S is for the simple need.
E is for the ecstasy.
X is just to mark the spot.”

[lilyyyy]

I'm not buyin' what they're sellin'
Don't believe the lies they're tellin'
Can't find a reason nothing we're knowing
Won't someone tell us where are we going now

In a school full of future artists, it's difficult to find someone strolling the grounds without taking in it's poetic beauty. Nate was proud to be one of those few ignorant individuals. Yes, the boy walked the grounds without once noting the kiss of the crisp autumn breeze or the satisfying crunch of dead leaves underfoot. He didn't find delight in the sharp trill of the songbird against the lull of students' idle chatter. He was apathetic to the solitary leaf still clinging to the branch in an act of defiance. As far as he was concerned, all these things were just part of the backdrop; just a rigid, unimportant set meant to enhance the real focus: himself.

No, it wasn't just him being arrogant (though it's not as if there's much of a difference.) Today, Nathaniel Moore had a camera and three rolls of film. By the end of the day, he had to deliver one hundred prints on a storyboard. "We don't always have the luxury of sound or even movement. The key is being able to convey kinetic energy through still shots," The boy's professor had told his class. This brought up the image of the moving photographs from Harry Potter, which made Nate chuckle, earning him a glare. "I want you to create a story about something about which you are passionate." Something about which Nate was passionate. Well, the answer to that was obvious: himself. So, the boy set off with his film and the archaic technology they called a camera, ready to document his life.

So, far, he'd gotten a few good shots of himself in class, with friends, and with girls. Just for kicks, he'd even taken some artistic shots of himself in various locations staring off into space. He was making pretty good progress, though it was rather clear that he was going to have to switch it up a bit. After all, he couldn't very well just have a hundred self portraits. Well, he could, but then no one else would have the honor of being in his project. That would simply be selfish.

So, Nate wandered about the school grounds, looking for something or someone worth photographing. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be appropriately intriguing. Everyone was just chatting or taking a walk or broodily resting in the shade. No one was doing anything wild or even remotely unhinged. How was he supposed to work in such normalcy? After taking a full lap, the blonde grew bored and headed over to the amphitheatre, deciding that some shots of the empty stage might be useful.

As he entered the stage, the boy was pleasantly surprised to find the stage occupied. A girl was dancing. Her body moved with graced and fluidity, apparently fueled by whatever was blasting through her little earbuds. Nate wasted no time to take some shots. He snapped away madly, capturing body parts as they flung themselves to the beat of unheard music. He was probably using up more film than he could afford, but that was alright. Even an arrogant asshole like him could be struck by inspiration.

[jaclyn]

I've got a pocket full of sunshine

How could she have missed this song? As many times as Flick had scrolled through the mass of music on her mp3 this one had somehow escaped her ears, perhaps it was better that way. Her body moved with the knowledge that she had found the perfect song; throwing herself lustfully into creating the steps that her routine had needed. The undying urge to integrate the sudden steps into the rest of her routine fueled her movements. Each extension was rocky, steps and movements were repeated over and over until she got them just right, waiting for each one to flow smoothly into the next. Dark hair fluttered around her shoulders, catching on her eyelashes and hooking on the corners of her mouth; with each turn, each extension, it got more complex. Transition after transition, Flick used an odd twist of hip hop, jazz, and ballet that somehow morphed into an actual form of dance.

The chorus-that was what she was focusing on; the guitar providing the scaffold of her movements, harsh, rough, and intentional, but it was the drums that kept her on spot. Flick’s moved without thinking, it was the easiest way to work with music. Let it control you, don’t try and force the music to work for you. Form meant nothing if you could not find a way to bend your body to the music; it was all about flow, rhythm and it all had to be blended together for it to be considered worthwhile. It didn’t matter that she danced in the middle of the amphitheater dancing to music that no one else could hear; Flick had done stranger things—like dancing in the middle of the hallway while the music majors practiced. She had earned a lot of odd looks that day.

The lyrics stuck in her mind, powerfully interesting and most definitely nothing that had been used before. The possibilities filled her mind, wardrobe ideas, perhaps even a partner for this portion of her routine. Spur of the moment was Flick’s entire existence. The dance student didn’t need a pen and paper, there wasn’t any fancy equipment required-all you needed was music, a body, and a desire to put in all together into something presentable. Even as each step got a bit more complicated, Flick never missed a beat. Each drum beat was accentuated with a heavy footfall or elegant extension of her arm. The song was coming to a close and she had already convinced herself that this would be her closing song, her body moved of its own accord as she went into one final spin before catching sight of the blonde haired student that was standing there, camera in hand.

Flick stopped suddenly, bright eyes gazing at him with a confused expression. A rosy color had attacked her cheeks, a pleasant mix of the cold of the October air and the heat of her skin, blending to highlight her cheekbones nicely. Her chest heaved as her heart rate began to slow, Flick pulled the hair from her face awkwardly before speaking, ”Umm…This is kinda awkward.” An uncomfortable smile Dancing in front of a crowd never bothered the dance major, but the boy had a camera in front of his face and it was obvious that he had been taking pictures moments before. American Beauty suddenly popped into her head; if he said that he ‘wasn’t ordinary’ she would run screaming.

[lilyyyy]

I'm not buyin' what they're sellin'
Don't believe the lies they're tellin'
Can't find a reason nothing we're knowing
Won't someone tell us where are we going now

Kinetic energy. Well, this was probably the epitome of kinetic. Nate didn't have a real clear idea how he'd use these shots, but he knew that they'd make their way into his project somehow. The girl took no notice; she was too absorbed in her own movement. He felt oddly voyeuristic, as if this impromptu routine wasn't meant for an audience, much less the hypercritical eye of a camera lens. Nonetheless, the boy had hitched a wave and he wasn't about to back down now. Thus, he snapped away, pausing only to shift his vantage point in order take advantage of better lighting. It really was breathtaking.

The dance ended just as the last frame on the roll was captured. It would be her face, cautiously confused, gazing right into the lens. Perfect. Setting down the bulky apparatus, the boy smiled. She was clearly just the slightest bit embarrassed. Now that the wave had passed, the boy was no longer an artist, so there was no need to make up some poetic metaphors for the blush of her cheeks or the way rise of and fall of her chest with each breath. No, she was pretty hot, but, then again, the boy'd seen better. Though, it would be pretty difficult to top the cute look on her face.

"Not at all, Cupcake." Hell was gonna freeze before Nate let himself be nervous around a girl. "I thought that was rather fantastic." Okay, so it might not have been all flattery, (she was fantastic) but he sure made it sound that way. Was she going to play along? Nate climbed onto the stage and moved toward her with deliberate coolness. "In fact," He was only a few feet away. "I thought," He was right in front of her face. "You were downright breathtaking." He whispered the last bit right into the girl's ear. The boy loved doing this, invading others' personal space, just to see how they'd react.

It might've been wrong to toy with people, but Nathaniel simply couldn't help it. It was much too amusing. Besides, he didn't consider it teasing, more of a psychological study. Exactly how much power did he have over the emotions of another human being? He was hoping for a challenge with this one, because it having everything on a silver platter was hardly any fun. He quite hoped this girl would prove to be the Sexy Sadie he'd been searching for.

"How rude of me," he said, now at an appropriate proximity. "I haven't even introduced myself." Again, that grin. "I'm Nate."

o o c: Apologies for the shortness. It won't be a habit.

[jaclyn]

I've got a pocket full of sunshine

Flick gazed at the boy expectantly, waiting for some form of response as to why she was suddenly being watched. It didn’t really bother her, she had been caught many times before and the embarrassment was only minimal by this point, but still, there was always that edge of being caught doing something so raw. Like artists getting caught with an unfinished painting, Flick hated showing her product before it was complete and this guy had just gotten a glimpse of a dancer at her most vulnerable, the planning stage. To the girl, that was one of the most intimate parts of dancing, planning it all out; if you’re dancing with a partner, it’s like forging a union between two bodies bound together by the music that controlled their every movement. So, she was a dork, one of those girls who took her art form far too seriously for her own good. At least she could admit that and that had to account for something. Right?

Cupcake? He just called her cupcake, didn’t he? Flick had to stop herself from rolling her eyes; her own father had stopped using the condescending pet names years ago. Of course, he still used ‘peach blossom’ and names like that on a regular basis, but she couldn’t do much about that--she was forever stuck as ‘Daddy’s little girl,’ as he put it. No, she wouldn’t react to it, Flick had met far too many men at Washington University to forget that nearly all of them had an angle, some habit that they used to come off better looking around women. Now, she wasn’t one of those man-hating, self righteous, feminists, but Flick was never one to go weak in the knees for a six back and toothy smirk. Of course, he didn’t need to know that. Let the boy think that he was ever so smooth.

“Thank you,” she replied in an uncomfortable tone, as she smoothed the front of her tank top absently. Looking back up at him, Flick was surprised to see him directly in front of her only for him to whisper in her ear. Oh, this guy was good, Mr. Smooth-Talker. She actually had to give him credit, not many men could pull off creepy photographer and then turn into a suave, debonair gentleman. Of course, where most girls would have pulled away, blushed, and giggled, Flick simply stood there as if they were commenting on the weather, smiling sweetly. If there was anything that stuck out about her, it was that she wasn’t most girls and really couldn’t stand most of them. It never helped that she picked a major that tended to give girls the mindless reputation. She was far from mindless, Flick wouldn’t fall for good looks and charm, those didn’t interest her, it was all so…one dimensional.

Once he had moved away, Flick padded over to her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head quickly. The heat from her dance slowly ebbed away from her body, leaving her arms covered in goose bumps as her mousy locks popped out of the neck line, followed by the rest of her head with her eyes still on him. It was at least two sizes too big, it had been her brothers and somehow, even after numerous washing it still felt like him. Meanwhile, Flick heard everything she had been listening to the boy and upon hearing his name, she smiled, “Nice to know the man behind the camera."

Her hands rose to rake her fingers through her hair, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders. “I’m Felicity. But don’t call me that, Flick is much less irritating,” she stated with a bright smile, before digging into her book bag and pulling out a notebook. It was tattered and old, practically bursting with notes and scrapes of paper. Sitting down on the nearby bench, she wrote down the song title and a few other notes before looking back up again, “So, any particular reason for the camera? Or should I be wary of a creepy shrine in your closet?” Yes, Flick was weird and she grinned up at Nate as she closed the notebook.

[lilyyyy]

I'm not buyin' what they're sellin'
Don't believe the lies they're tellin'
Can't find a reason nothing we're knowing
Won't someone tell us where are we going now

It was difficult to tell if the girl was just taunting him or if she was actually being strung along. Either way, Nate was intrigued. Clearly, she wasn't ordinary; most girls wouldn't be dancing in public, much less take so calmly when they realized someone was photographing them. Even better, she seemed almost flattered, or at the very least openly un-offended by his actions. Though, this shouldn't really be much of a surprise. He was, to be perfectly modest, pretty damn hot. Add that to his sly grin and natural charisma, it was amazing how anyone ever resisted his charms.

Ah, but he was getting off-topic again. It was difficult to remember not to arbitrarily start admiring himself in the middle of a conversation. Of course, who could blame him? No! God, it happened again. Honestly, this simply had to stop. Okay, right, so what was she saying? Oh yes, her name. "Felicity. From the Latin root 'felix' or happiness, but I'm sure you knew that already." How the Hell did Nate know this crap? Let's just say that girls go head over heels for a guy who can tell them what their name means. "Of course, I have no complaints about 'Flick,' either. Very original." He tried to emphasized the last word. It seemed to the sort of thing she was trying to live by.

The next question was a bit trickier. There were a myriad of possibilities, but the key was to maintain composure. If he said the wrong thing, it could basically ruin any chance the boy had. Nate took a moment to consider his response. "Oh, well, that's nothing. I just like taking pictures, 'cause there are so many beautiful moments in the world, you know? I want to be able to capture them. I plan to put them on my blog, so everyone can see." There had been no need to lie. The truth probably would've sounded better, actually, but ever since Nate learned he had a penchant for lying, he simply had to exploit it at every turn. It was his savoy truffle, of sorts.

Nate was a bit disappointed when the girl covered herself up with a rather unflattering sweatshirt. The distaste flickered on his face, though he quickly masked it with a smile. As she moved, the boy moved with her. Uninvited, he situated himself right next to her on the bench, trying to see what she was writing as discretely as possible. You can learn a lot about a girl from her notebook, though it wouldn't do any good if she knew you were peering over her shoulder. Aside from some random pen scratches, Nate didn't catch much. Ah, well, he could do without it. He inched just a smidge too close to the girl and turned away to give off the impression that he was in some sort of deep thought.

The idle conversation had now grown tiresome. Nate didn't have all day, after all. He was really going to have to break out some heavy artillery. Seeing a perfect opportunity, he sprang. First: start out casual, don't make it obvious what you're doing. "But I can't promise you they won't end up in some guy's closet," he said completely seriously. Step two: break into your joke, be playful and, most importantly, flash them a smile. "After all, these creepy stalker types often go for beautiful women." Grin. Always remember the grin. Step three: bring it back to you. "Don't worry, though. I promise I'll protect you should any of them decide to come after you." Nathaniel Moore's Three Steps to Charming Any Woman. Patent pending.

[jaclyn]

I've got a pocket full of sunshine

Vaguely, Flick wondered how much time he spent in front of the mirror every morning; probably much more time than she did on an average day. He just seemed like the type to get distracted by his own reflection, or fix his hair in the back of a spoon, or even pull an ‘Uncle Jesse’ and talk to his hair. Whatever he did, Flick paid no real notice, with the secret hope that this Nate character would take some notice, but somehow--she was sure--his ego would get in the way. She would never be outright rude to the boy, in fact, Flick would be perfectly pleasant. It wasn’t her nature to be cruel, unless a serious reality check was needed. He truly was something else, his nonchalant smirk and smooth demeanor and all this after being caught photographing a complete stranger. Now, Flick was a trusting girl, sometimes to a fault, but it didn’t add up, nothing about him screamed genuine. There was no evidence to back up her feelings, but Flick had a feeling that Nate would reveal something sooner or later; until then, she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe there was a brain in that pretty, blonde head of his. Interesting. “Also fortunate or lucky,” she nodded, her tone slightly distracted, but revealing the slightest hint of surprise that lay hidden behind her light eyes. Latin roots meant little in terms of intelligence, she herself had taken a semester of Latin in high school; of course, it had been in preparation for those horrid SATs, but it was still intriguing that he remembered so easily.

Nate blogged? Hmm, he didn’t seem the type, but she didn’t dare voice that opinion. And an artist to boot! Well, wasn’t this her lucky day? An attractive, clearly sensitive gentleman that just happened to stumble across her path. How perfect. Almost too perfect. Even Flick’s thoughts were laced with sarcasm about this one; he was just too…too staged. It was as if every word was taken from some cheesy magazine that outlined the best pickup lines and what most women would swoon for. All he needed now was to say that he blogged about his feelings, quoting some intellectual philosopher or obscure musician and Nate could probably quote the article by heart-not to mention the issue he found it in. Was that supposed to be better than a closet shrine? Flick questioned silently, somehow being put on the internet by a complete stranger wasn’t a comforting feeling. Maybe she watched too many movies.

Flick laid the notebook across her lap, slender fingers playing with the frayed edges absently. Clearly he didn’t understand the conventions of personal space, or he really wanted her to get a good smell of whatever cologne he was wearing. Looking away for just a moment, the closet comment made her eyes shoot back to him quickly in mild panic. Flattery, what a charmer this Nate was. Everything he said was just what every girl wanted to hear, wasn’t it? Funny how that worked; he was about as original as the newest teen drama that played at every movie theater. Flick actually made the mistake of scoffing slightly at the comment, but did her best to cover it with a cough. Distantly she hoped that girls didn’t swoon at this, but somehow Flick was sure that her hopes were all in vain. A pretty boy, artist, with a gentlemanly façade, what woman would say no?

She turned to him, smiling sweetly with her eyes glinting in the light slightly. “What a gentleman,” Flick nearly crooned, “You would put yourself in danger for me?” Her eyes grew wide with wonder, the tone of her voice was a playful, sweet tone as she played the role rather well. Suddenly she rose from the bench, moving to stand in front of him like a defiant child, shaking her head gently, “I couldn’t let you do that. I think I can handle creepy stalker guys, I prefer to fight my own battles.” Flick was being completely serious, she would never allow someone else fight her battles for her, “Even us beautiful women can take care of ourselves.”

“Besides, word is that it’s the blogging, artists you have to watch out for. You never know what you’re actually getting, is it real or just a cheap imitation?” she smiled innocently. She didn’t think that about him though, or at least that's what it sounded like.

ooc: sorry it's a bit weird, my muse is not working with me today

[lilyyyy]

I'm not buyin' what they're sellin'
Don't believe the lies they're tellin'
Can't find a reason nothing we're knowing
Won't someone tell us where are we going now

Her words were so sweet that they might well rot her teeth. Nate, being the dense creature he was, saw this as his strategy working as planned. God, she was so damn adorable. It was the sort of thing that made people wanted to defile her. Of course, the boy wasn't going to think about that. Even he knew that there was a time and place, and this situation definitely wasn't it. No, they were going through the steps with which the boy was quite familiar. Her next statement did catch him a bit off-guard, though. His smile faltered ever-so-slightly, though he quickly recovered. No, he wasn't going to be turned off by it. This simply posed one more challenge for him, and Nathaniel was always up for a challenge.

Somewhere, in the dark, dank, unexplored corner of his mind, Nate knew he was trying too hard. Honestly, she may have been pretty, but there were definitely more attractive options out there. What's more, that same corner of his brain knew that it was all a futile effort. He was That Guy. The one that the girls cry over. The one their friends warned them against. The one about which they would all write an angry song. Flick was obviously one of those girls who wasn't going for it. Unfortunately, the boy had put this part of his brain on mute. He was going to be stupid, because, at the end of the day, he was always going to be some girl's Some Other Guy.

"Well, I wouldn't be quite a gentleman if I didn't at least try to fight you battles, now would I?" He winked. Yes, winked. There was overboard, and there was halfway out to sea. Clearly, Nate didn't know the difference. "After all, I have to earn my cojones somehow. They wouldn't let me call myself a man if I went and let a fine girl like yourself take care of yourself." This was about forty percent flirting, sixty percent serious. Yeah, the boy actually believed the whole 'strong women' thing was overrated. Sure, equal rights and whatnot were good, but he didn't like getting lectured for trying to be helpful to a girl. At some point in history, it would've been considered chivalry, after all. "I suppose you'll have to blame the patriarchal structure of our society for that one."

In fact, Nate did know the article. He'd written it. Well, not so much written as had someone write it. But his name was on the by-line (not that anyone bothered noticing that anyways.) Yeah, with Mommy's connections and Daddy's pocketbook, he'd 'written' several articles for several teen magazines. They were full of crap, of course, because charm was something you have to be born with. You couldn't learn it after a lifetime of study much less fifteen minutes from a magazine. But the parents thought he ought to 'get his name out there.' Despite their general hollowness, Nate did refer back to them now and again. After all, he really ought to try out his own tips once in a while. It was probably his only profitable skill.

Again, the girl had managed to sneak through the boy's defenses with her words. Was that meant to be a jab at him? Did she really think he was fake? This thought worried Nate more than he'd be willing to admit. Was he losing his touch? Had he really grown so transparent. Of course, this all took place under that ever-present smile of his. These foreign thoughts bounced about through his head. He was actually having trouble comprehending them. God, for all his arrogant bravado, the blonde was certainly sensitive about his own virility. Finally, the stroke of paranoia passed, and he managed to reason that this was meant to be a joke. Okay, he could deal with that.

"You know, they say the same about girls that dance in public. After all, who knows what's really under that confident surface of yours?" He was preempting the argument. A strategic move. Shift the blame and get her on the defensive. "I suppose we'll both have to settle for each other's word." How did this kid sleep with knowing he was so full of shit?

[jaclyn]

I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine
I got a love and I know it's all mine
Do what you want but you're never going to break me
Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me

This one was about as bright as a rock, and probably even denser. He just didn’t seem to get it, why was he trying so hard? If Flick hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him another desperate fool attempting to get some female attention. Desperation would have been a welcomed change, but Nate, he just seemed to be trying to prove something to himself instead of try giving a damn about what Flick thought about him. A manly man, the type that would buy a girl a piece of jewelry, not because it was a sweet gesture, but because it would keep her talking about him and to show other men that he had a new conquest. His statement just supported her unspoken theory. He didn’t want to stick up for anyone, let alone a female, but to be seen backing down by a girl, it would be the end of the world; to be caught by his male friends, that would be even worse. This time, the eye roll was blatant. ”Or the mindless losers that perpetuate it,” Flick mumbled under her breath, low enough that she hoped he didn’t hear.

Why did girls fall for this? The player image, but he had a sensitive side; they all claimed to have a sensitive side. None of them would ever dream of using a girl, each girl that fell for the charms, sweet words, and handsome smile each and every one of them was ‘special and different from the rest.’ And each one ended up heartbroken and alone, crying for them, curling up on the couch with Ben and Jerry’s by the bucketful only to swear off men for all of a day. Did they learn the first time? Of course not, otherwise, guys like Nate wouldn’t have an existence. Nate was the cliché of every teen drama, the ever lovable, suave lady killer that somehow always had a date, even when word spread about the way in which he used women. And there would always be women, Flick wouldn’t be surprised that he got a good kick out of that fact; some foolish girl would fall for it, one of them always did.

The dance major was far from your average girl. Stubborn? Yes. Dumb? Sometimes. Gullible? Hardly. Flick wasn’t going for it, she never did and honestly, it wasn’t attractive. Confidence was one thing, cockiness was just irritating. Did he even stand for anything? Or would he just back into the shadows to avoid putting any real effort into forming his own opinion. Why did she care? That was the question that tugged at her mind. What did it matter to her?

A surprised eyebrow rose as he spoke, he wasn’t going to play that was he? He was, Flick bit the inside of her lip gently at the thought of him calling her fake. Oh, this one had cojones alright and she wasn’t one to walk away without proving her point. Her weight shifted to one leg, her hip jutting out ever so slightly. One hand rose automatically to rest of the exposed hip, as she laughed softly, was he trying to get under her skin? “He who is humble is confident and wise. He who brags is insecure and lacking,” she quoted, not bothering to note who said it; it wasn’t like he would be interested either way. “I admit I am flawed, but that does not mean I have anything to hide,” her voice was perfectly even, but perhaps it was just a bit obvious that the girl was indeed defensive. Flick’s lips were tugged into a defiant smile, her eyes looking him over once more before speaking. “And what if I think you are full of it?” A perfectly legitimate question, asked out of the desire to know the answer, “Maybe you’re just another carbon copy, pulled right out of nearest teen romance novel.” Cue the adorable smile, but the smug look wasn’t leaving her gaze until she got her answer.

Flick wasn’t normally so confrontational, but Nate needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Part of her begged to ask if he had ever heard the word ‘no’ from a female, or did they all just line up at his door prepared to kiss his feet. And yet another part of her wondered why she bothered. Did she really delude herself into thinking that she would actually get through that head of his? Would he actually take to heart the things she said? Fat chance.

[lilyyyy]

I'm not buyin' what they're sellin'
Don't believe the lies they're tellin'
Can't find a reason nothing we're knowing
Won't someone tell us where are we going now

As she spoke, a thought dawned on the boy. God, was she trying to change him? And with silly quotes? Surely such a smart girl had read all the books or at least seen the thousands of chick flicks that very, very clearly stated that you can't change men. Women have worked for several lifetimes on this issue, experimenting with hot and cold, harsh and tender, left and right, and they finally realized that it simply isn't possible. Was this particular girl so incredibly confident that she could prove centuries of women wrong? Her next words seemed to answer that question perfectly.

She had just insulted him. Not just his personality, but his character. Okay, seriously, this girl was starting to piss him off, and that was a difficult task for attractive women. Sure, they could be annoying when they won't stop calling or exasperating when they won't let go, but getting Nate actually pissed off is some sort of Herculean task. Short of verbally abusing him while repeatedly kicking his boy bits, it was virtually impossible. But this one had done it. Or started to. Honestly, someone ought to hand her an award or something. That was okay, though. Nate wasn't going to crack. No, he'd play her game, just as always. His strategy just needed a bit of tweaking.

"Well, that's a silly question," He smiled slyly. It seemed that the boy hadn't stopped smiling since he began this conversation. "Of course I am. They base those silly novels off life, you know." He made a point to look directly into those bright eyes of hers. It appeared that her smile was plastered on her face as well. Clearly, she thought something of herself. "And anyhow, I could say the same for you. Strong, confident woman with a distaste for conformity. Oh, let's not forget your penchant for breaking down arrogant men. I suppose you'll be wanting an Oscar, now."

Yes, the boy was trying to be an ass, but not in the usual sense. No, he would be an intellectual ass; something that she wouldn't be able to get out of her face. Sure, she might think he was a lost cause, that he was one of those pretty boys that cruise through life with dad's credit card, but he wasn't going to let her walk away without fixing her attitude, even by the smallest amount. "But I guess you'll tell me that at least you have some sense of originality, that at least you aren't a slave to society and its silly standards." He sighed airily, as if amused. "Though, I think you ought to know that you have no such thing. No, society's got you under it's thumb, just like it's got me."

Wow, did Nathaniel Moore actually have opinions on these matters? Was there a deeper side of him the world had never seen? No, of course not, you twit! The boy hadn't gone about and psychoanalyzed the girl and found some deep, dark secret. No, he'd just been spouting whatever popped into his pretty little head. Years of experience had taught him that you don't need a high IQ to be an intellectual. You just needed to talk with conviction. People will react to anything as long as you sound like you're sure of what you're saying.

[jaclyn]

I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine
I got a love and I know it's all mine
Do what you want but you're never going to break me
Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me

This time, the smile reached her eyes. Flick was actually grinning, had she actually gotten a real response from him? His answer didn’t sound like it was taken out of some stupid article or some clichéd movie; perhaps he was actually trying to prove a point. Interesting. This had been what she was hoping for, however miniscule the moment may be; Flick wanted a genuine thought, something that would give some indication that he used the brain that he undoubtedly had--and use it for something other than just getting into the nearest females pants. Would he actually try to prove her wrong? True, he had no obligation to her and had no real reason to prove anything to her, but he hadn’t walked away from her yet. The impish side of Flick wanted to test him further, pressing buttons that probably didn’t get pushed often enough, she was a trouble maker, but she’d never actually hurt someone. The dance major was harmless, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t like to play her own games.

Was he trying to insult her? Flick couldn’t be sure, none of it sounded insulting, in fact, she felt flattered. Distaste for conformity? Sounded about right. It wasn’t like she was constantly speaking about ‘the man’ or boycotting the popular industries, Flick just liked originality. Like was more exciting that way. Of course, she wouldn’t argue with the boy, what was the point? Nate probably had his own thoughts about her and Flick had no intention of fighting with him on that point. This one had a response for everything, no doubt, he would never admit defeat to anyone, let alone the girl that stood there challenging him. “Should I make my acceptance speech now or later?” Well now she was just playing around. Had Nate known her better he wouldn’t have been surprised. Flick was an odd girl, but destroying a man? Never.

A small, sneakered foot began to tap impatiently, she’d let him make his point; it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t react accordingly. Gazing at him as if bored the girl let him speak, if he wanted to keep going, well, Flick had more than enough ammunition to continue; two could play this game if Nate saw it fit to continue. Of course, she was well aware that she was nothing to him and that he could just easily leave without a second thought to find some other girl to work his charms on. He’d probably be much more successful with some other girl. Flick tilted her head to one side, an amusedly confused look playing across her face. Did she really come off as one of those girls; the type that ran around harassing people for wearing brand names and following trends? Flick looked down at her sweatshirt for a moment. Hollister, the faded letters read back to her. Her brow furrowed for a moment, is that what people saw her as?

The moment only lasted for half a second. Flick didn’t care what other people took part in. Brand names didn’t bother her, she didn’t bash the fashion majors for caring about appearances, Flick was just Flick; to each his own, but be who you are not what’s cool—it was her motto of sorts. “I thought you put it rather nicely yourself,” once again with a cutesy smile and even a wink just to make it all the more sickening. “Of course, I would have added, something about how ‘the man’ wants us to stay blissfully unaware as we rob the earth of its precious innocence.” Flick was intentionally laying it on thick at this point, but the smug tone had left her voice and her playfulness had returned in a way. “I like people who have their own ideas, that’s what is real to me. Not lines parroted from some tactless magazine that claim it’s what I want to hear.” Was she actually talking to him on a real level? Flick actually smirked to herself at the thought.

“How many girls had fallen for the sensitive artist angle? Oh! And the chivalry and compliments," Flick moved closer to him, once again imitating his own move; invading his personal space she returned the favor. “They must eat out of the palm of your hands,” she whispered softly into his ear before moving to sit next to him and straddle the bench to gaze at him with innocent eyes.