Author's Note: So I'm probably crazy. Yes, I am. TWO ongoing stories? ...yes. I have the tendency to start stories and not finish them but that will not be the case for this! This started out as being very different than morphed into this, a journal story. It's different than anything else I've done and I wanted to try it. There are other journal stories out there...but my two favorites are by DryadSpeaks, titled All My Dreams and The Smile on Your Face. If you haven't read those, you should! They are fantastic!
This first chapter doesn't seem to explain a lot but all will be, in time, through out the journal entries.
As always, please read and review. :)
Sweet Home, California
Los Angeles, Day 1
I slept in late today but I think that's allowed. After all, we did just arrive yesterday and I'm still fairly exhausted from the flight. At eleven o'clock, Artie poked me and asked me if I was ever planning on getting up ("Quinn…hey, Quinn. Ever going to get up?") , to which I grumbled in reply, "No, probably not."
He laughed and left the room, returning several minutes later to inform me that Matt was making pancakes. The heavenly scent of his Secret-Recipe pancakes was what finally prompted me to rise. After dressing in a casual outfit of shorts and a t-shirt (because even though it was March we were in Los Angeles and it was supposed to be hot all the time, right?), I walked to the kitchen, hopping easily up on to the counter. We hadn't gotten any chairs yet but that was part of the plan for the day: get furniture.
"Pancakes, Milady!" Matt cried, handing me a plate of pancakes already doused in syrup.
I accepted the plate and began eating without even thanking him. While chewing, my eyes met Artie's, who was pouring himself a glass of milk. He motioned with his hand and I nodded. Pretty soon, he was sitting near me, eating his own plate of pancakes and taking the occasional sip of milk from his glass. I was practically gulping down the glass he had brought me. I guess I had been thirsty.
The three of us were peacefully enjoying our breakfasts, when Santana stormed in, unkempt hair in her eyes. Obviously, she had just woken up.
"I am not rooming with Finn!" she had yelled.
That had been the argument of the previous night: who would room where? Since we didn't have beds yet it seemed a moot point but Santana had thought the topic important. Probably because it was fairly obvious Artie and I would be sharing a room, while Matt and Mike's bff-ness meant they would be occupying another. Santana did not want to share a room with Finn and that was that. However, he had looked sort of sad about it so, in an un-Santana like manner, she had relented and said he could share a room with her for one night.
It has apparently been a disaster, though none of us got the details as to why, and it was generally decided that Finn would bunk with Matt and Mike, while Santana would get her own room.
The rest of the day was pretty awkward because of whatever had happened between Finn and Santana during the night or morning or whatever. We did manage to get some pretty cool furniture, including a retro looking couch that Artie picked out at a thrift store. And we got an ugly and expensive desk because Mike accidentally spilled his soda all over it (I had told him not to bring that stupid Big Gulp into the fancy furniture store with us) and we had to take it. The store had a "you break it, you buy it" policy which extended to "you spill soda on it, you buy it."
Anyway, we made it home in one piece and I was ready for bed, even though it was only ten and I hadn't even gotten up until eleven. While everyone else was gathered in the living room with the intention of staying up and watching movies, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then got into my sleeping bag, thinking about the bed that Artie and I would one day have. We hadn't found one that day but hopefully we would soon. I really didn't want to sleep on the floor any longer.
I was just about to fall asleep when Artie came in, lowering himself into his own sleeping bag. "You awake?"
Sighing, I told him I was.
"Not so bad so far."
"I guess not." He was right but I was already kind of regretting the whole six roommates things. It was like we were trapped in the premise for some sitcom or something which wasn't all bad but I was assailed with so many doubts.
Brushing some hair out of my face, he smiled (it was dark and I couldn't really see but I can always tell when he's smiling). "It'll be fine."
I have a tendency to believe Artie and this time wasn't any different. So what if we were a bunch of jobless twenty year olds? We would be fine.
That thought should've eased my mind and allowed me to go sleep but it didn't, unfortunately. So I decided to take out this journal my mom got me as a going away present and write down the events of our first day here in Los Angeles. But I probably should try to get some sleep, seeing as it's almost three am and tomorrow holds…God knows what.
