-x-
AU, clique. Officially disclaimed.
mood, angsty. the start of a new drabble-fic, all on love. Every single sickening one ;) (I positively adore finding-forever. 's, I would go read it and fall in love with it if I were you.)
-Believing-
and sugar we're going down, swingin';
{and in a way, she stinks with straps and hopes shoelaces will become old-fashioned. dedication: vintage. the both of you.}
-x-
Nikki Dalton doesn't believe in love.
(not anymore)
She used to believe love was the whipped cream to her Vanilla Bean, Starbucks-priced Frappuccino - she'd seen it enough times to believe it was beautiful, it was whimsical, and she knew from the very beginning that was what she wanted out of life - to love and to be loved. So she'd undo her shoelaces and giggle and laugh and twirl - and she'd stumble and trip and fall in front of every boy she met, thinking he was the one, when it was really just because she'd manage to step on her own shoelace.
(and she's heard the wedding bells so many times she's thinking she doesn't want to hear them ever again)
But now she knows, she's realized how silly the whole thing is. She's too young, to naïve to know what she wants out of life, or love, and so she concentrates on other things, like her studies.
(and his smile and his eyes and his cologne-tinted polo)
She orders her Vanilla Bean Frappucino with skim-milk, and no whipped-cream. It's too sweet, she convinces herself, sipping it without gusto. She inhales silently, and her world fogs up as she gets lost inside her very own fantasy world in which she doesn't see love and she doesn't see whip cream and she doesn't see as he leans over the booth and kisses Claire on the cheek.
(and yet, Josh Hotz's face somehow doesn't seem banned from her happily ever after)
