My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys - - - Mackenzy Cord

[Roping the Wind]

Little Miss Dynamite, just blew my world away,
It was a pitiful sight, me beggin' her to stay,
I never had a hunch, so how was I to know,
She packed a punch, that knocked my heart out cold,

She put a hurt on this old cowboy,
Broke my heart like a little play toy,
Brought me to my knees from ten feet tall,

The night she left me in Amarillo,
I cried crocodile tears in my pillow,
The bigger they are, the harder they fall,
How could a blue-eyed beauty only five foot three,
Lay a Texas size heartache, on me

She came across so cool,
I didn't think that I'd get burned,
Now I'm a big ole' fool,
With a leavin' lesson learned,
Thought I was strong, like ole' Hercules,
She proved me wrong, with her little "Ce La Vie",

She put a hurtin' on this old cowboy,
Broke my heart like a little play toy,
Brought me to my knees from ten feet tall,

The night she left me in Amarillo,
I cried crocodile tears in my pillow,
The bigger they are, the harder they fall,

How could a blue-eyed beauty only five foot three,
Lay a Texas size heartache, on me

How could a blue-eyed beauty only five foot three,
Lay a Texas size heartache, on me

Joe Diffie

[Roping the Wind]

<center>

Mudgrips - white-tip
Cigar stickin' out of my face
Earnhardt racing sticker on the window
Banged up fender
4x4 - straight pipe roar
Primer and rust all over the door
Scarred up knuckles, Mack belt buckle
White t-shirt - Ain't afraid to work
Got a "what-are-you-looking-at-asshole" smirk

Cold beer, hot wings
Wranglers, Skoal ring
Get just what you see
Gun rack, ball cap
Don't take no crap
Ain't a pretty boy-toy
I'll rock you steady
Rough and ready

Work boots - one blue suit
Size too small - don't wear at all
Unless somebody kicks - gets hitched
That's a bitch - makes me itch
Up with sun - off on the run
Makin' money money - cause I wanna have fun
5 o'clock whistle - off like a missle
Got a hot date, girl named Kate
Think's I'm cool - 'cause I shoot straight
Ain't one thing about her fake
She's long and tall - and she goes great with

Cold beer, hot wings
Wranglers, Skoal ring
Get just what you see
Gun rack, ball cap
Don't take no crap
Ain't a pretty boy-toy
I'll rock you steady
Rough and ready

Well you are who you are
And that's all right with me
Well I am who I am
And that's all I can be

Cold beer, hot wings
Wranglers, Skoal ring
Get just what you see
Gun rack, ball cap
Don't take no crap
Ain't a pretty boy-toy
I'll rock you steady
Rough and ready

Rough and ready
Yeah..
Rough and ready, baby

Trace Adkins </center>

[Roping the Wind]

I miss her.

Why can't I make a relationship work? What is wrong with me? God, I'd really like to know because maybe it's something that I could fix. Some inexplicable flaw that is rendering me bad boyfriend material. Not that I would want to change to please people but there's nothing wrong with trying to better yourself as a person.
I can change. If only I knew this months ago.
If I hadn't been so stubborn, Journal, who knows where my path might have led. Natalie needs space and I'm lost without her. I'm not a weak man but I feel as though I would buckle to my knees and sob like a little boy if she ever left me. How much heartache is one person supposed to be forced to take?
Maybe I'm just meant to travel this road alone for awhile. Wandering. Lost. Wondering if I'll ever find my way.

[Roping the Wind]

<center>
You have come here in pursuit
of your deepest urge,
in pursuit of that wish,
which till now has been silent, silent . . .


I have brought you, that our passions
may fuse and merge - in your mind you've already
succumbed to me dropped all defenses
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts,
you've decided, decided . . .


Past the point of no return -
no backward glances:
the games we've played till now
are at an end . . .


Past all thought of "if" or "when" -
no use resisting:
abandon thought, and let
the dream descend . . .


What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies
before us . . .?


Past the point of no return,
the final threshold -
what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?


Beyond the point of no return . . .

Phantom of the Opera </center>

[Roping the Wind]

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
and she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change

And I've done all I can
To stand on the steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

Ooh, you see that skin
It's the same he's been standing in
Since the day he saw her walking away
Now he's left cleaning up the mess she made

So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

Boys you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong and boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth of a woman's good, good heart

On behalf of every man, looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers

So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

John Mayer (with the exception of the word 'he')

[Roping the Wind]

'Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories. We've already missed the Spring...'


"Aww! I love this movie... I mean--" He coughed and fumbled for the remote clumsily and in the process of trying to change the channel the contraption slithered through his fingers and hit the coffee table nearly upsetting the bowl of popcorn. Charisma briefly tore her attention away from her magazine, enough to pass her younger sibling a smirk and then rustled the pages unecessarily loudly to cover the sounds of her snickering.

"C'mon, admit it, Mac. You like chick flicks.." Not quite sneered, but definitely sing-songed.

"I do...not.." Reluctantly offered.

"Do too."

"AUGH!"

Laughter unleashed and no attempts to contain her amusement this time, her reading material set aside and the designer was traipsing in from the kitchen and easing down onto the couch, lips still twitching. Mackenzy guarded the popcorn bowl and glared at the screen. Nah, outta the corner of his eye it was mainly aimed at his far too smug sister.


"Why didn't you tell me, Debbie? If it had to happen to one of us, why did it have to be you?"


"It was no one's fault but my own. I was looking up... it was the closest thing to heaven in New York. -You- were there. Oh, Darling, don't worry it will be okay. Don't cry. If you can paint, I can walk. Anything is possible..."


Mac sniffled discreetly. Ris crowed in triumph.
"I heard that!"
"Shaddup." Grumble not very convincingly menacing.

Even a rough and tumble cowboy could be touched by
An Affair to Remember, he wasn't made of stone. He swiped the back of his palm across the suspicious moisture gathering in his eyes. Then grabbed a handful of popcorn and assailed the fluffy projectiles at the designer.

Valentine's weekend was spent much more of the same. Romantic drivel of movies and much more junk food. Don't think he didn't get the whole chocolate obsession thing. He was with women on that one. And so what if he could watch Pretty Woman time and again and still be intrigued by the storyline. But he had his reasons for that.

Classics never went out of style.

<font color="#996600" size="1">[ February 13, 2005 11:46 AM: Message edited by: incomplete addiction ]</font>

[Roping the Wind]

<center>
Coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss
It was only a kiss

Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking the drag

Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now
Let me go
And I just can't look
It's killing me
And taking control

Jealousy
Turning saints into the sea
Turning through sick lullaby
Choking on your alibi
But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
I'm Mr. Brightside


The Killers
</center>

[Roping the Wind]

I grew up a-dreamin' of bein' a cowboy,
and Lovin' the cowboy ways.
Pursuin' the life of my high-ridin' heroes,
I burned up my childhood days.

I learned of all the rules
of the modern-day drifter,
Don't you hold on to nothin' too long.
Just take what you need from the ladies,
then leave them,
With the words of a sad country song.

My heroes have always been cowboys.
And they still are, it seems.
Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,
Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.

Cowboys are special
with their own brand of misery,
From being alone too long.
You could die from the cold
in the arms of a nightman,
Knowin' well that your best days are gone.

Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen,
I let the words of my years fade away.
Old worn-out saddles, and 'old worn-out memories,
With no one and no place to stay.

My heroes have always been cowboys.
And they still are, it seems.
Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,
Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.

Sadly, in search of, but one step in back of,
Themselves and their slow-movin' dreams.


Willie Nelson

[Roping the Wind]

<center>
Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide

I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to ryhme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
You and I collide


You finally find
You and I collide
You finally find
You and I collide

Howie Day

</center>

[Roping the Wind]

Just another smoke filled club in a rather seedy portion of town. Nothing to write home about. The Wilted Rose was the kind of place that catered to loners, broken hearts and gangsters alike. When you wanted to disappear. Cowboy was giving mouth-to-mouth to a bottle of tequila and still lost her. Snort. Damn, what a cryin' shame. Didn't matter it wasn't yet even noon. Who the hell gave a flying fuck anymore, right? Washed up, hasbeen of the american hero and he had the battle scars to prove it. Broad shoulders hunched beneath the faded denim jacket, worn like his own glory flag, stetson perched low upon his dark brow, keeping both the unforgiving light and unwanted stares at bay.
Or so he thought. Little did he know that even as he attempted to drown his misery in the welcome comfort of alcohol, he was being whispered (gossiped) about behind the counter
by two young pieces that barely looked old enough to be in attendance in such a joint.

Grumble. Why was everyone so concerned with his business these days?!
Fragmented pieces of conversation then. '...Dumped by that model...no, that was after the painter... such a shame..' Bleeding hearts were a dime a dozen in this place and he wasn't one thankaverramuch.

Tequila thumped onto the bar with enough force to shatter the glass. He picked up the Gibson and cradled the guitar as though it were a newborn. Turning his back on the gossip mongers and plucking out a tune. Not country. Ha. Something dark and not very musical. Somber.


A man with a guitar was always a plus, at least in Emily's book. Sometimes people tried to talk her out of that -- always said musicians were nothing to get involved with. But why not? So maybe most musicians were a little eccentric or a little atypical compared to the rest of society, but did that mean anything? They were better than artists but not as good as a man in a suit, that's what everybody always told her. And yet? She didn't listen. Maybe it was time to start because one black eye (well, almost healed -- it was the weird orange/yellow color now) and busted finger later, she swore off musicians for the rest of eternity.

All they ever did was make her heart ache. Or her body. And not in a good way... but then she saw that lonely looking cowboy, plucking guitar strings, and she just couldn't help herself. "That sounds great." Sidling up on a stool, she smiled over at him.
"You, sir, look like you need to quit listening to other people." Call it intuition.

Mackenzy rumbled over a half-hearted grunt in response. Not looking up from his baby.
The guitar, a recent birthday present from his well to do brother (who coincidentally, seemed to have been born in a suit..) to replace the worn out acoustic he had practiced on for months, letting it finally rest in peace.
Mac wasn't the typical musician. By any stretch of the imagination. He only turned to music when everything else in his life seemed to have gone to hell in a shitbasket. Lovely, no? Relenting, he strummed another discordant strain then pounded the body of the exquisite instrument with his fist. Then the same hand pressed against the the socket of his eyes. Rubbing. When he flickered the woman a glance at long last, it was of the hooded variety, heavy lidden grey-green framed by too long lashes that were wasted on a man.
He bit his tongue ready to lash out and sting with a scathing retort. But he found to his
surprise, he had nothing left. Shrugging in defeat, he merely tipped his head in a half nod
of acknowledgement. It sucked when people could read you so easily as that.
AND when they were right.

Emily raked her fingernails back through her hair, long and blond as it was, and fidgeted. She did that a lot. Fidgeted, that is. It was kind of her quirk...
"So uh. Did somebody kill your kitten or something?" She wasn't going to force him into conversation, if he didn't want it, but she wasn't going to let him just sit there and drink away his liver either. Livers were rather vital, you know?
They didn't like tequila baths so much, either. "Because you look half ready to either run out and get some revenge on somebody, or just jump off a bridge." Bartenders were always better at reading people than your everyday girls. She had been around enough men with broken hearts to know what one looked like. "Incidentally, you probably shouldn't do either. Did you know it's illegal to kill yourself? I think that's funny..." Musing off-handedly, as she was wont to do, Emily finally stifled her impulses to spew random facts and brushed away the stray hairs that obscured otherwise gorgeous blue eyes. "It gets better, you know. Life, I mean."
A pat to his back, since he didn't seem like he wanted to talk, and she was moving to stand up. Get out of his hair and stuff.
He didn't want some chick babbling in his ear, probably.

"It's fucking Valentine's Day tomorrow.." Rut roh. That didn't sound like the beginning of a very good conversational topic. But people complained to complete strangers in bars all the time right? What was the harm. "And the one year I was certain to not have
to pass the holiday as some goddamned pathetic ..Augh.." He couldn't really continue.
His brain was throbbing far too painfully already just thinking about it all.
The next sentiments summed it up rather nicely. "Love stinks."
That was pretty much it, yep. He breathed in and out. Just like he had been doing every day of his life. Pretty soon he wouldn't have to remind himself to do it anymore.

Lopsided grin for the chick babbling in his ear. "Y'sure? I'd reckon it would, since it couldn't possibly get much worse." When he smiled like that, a roguish way that had that dimple coming out to play hide and seek. Belatedly, he registered the touch and an unreadable expression soon replaced the boyish charm. He flexed a muscle in his jaw but not out of irritation, simply striving for self-control. Maybe it was the appealing husky lilt in her voice, or the reassuring way she conveyed the words but now he almost wanted to weep for the strain he'd been put under for weeks now.

Cowboys didn't cry and they didn't fall in love? Bullshit.
This one was the exception to the rule.
He broke eye contact then but only because he didn't want her to see how deeply he had been affected. God, more tequila. Yes, she would never leave him. Good girl. Poor Mac.

Emily was just watching him, more amused than anything else. "Valentine's Day is just another calendar date marked by Hallmark and all them sadistic bastards that think it's better to have somebody than be alone. It doesn't mean anything
to anybody anymore. Just candy. But love? Love doesn't stink. It's when love is over and things get all fucked up, that you think love sucks. But love by itself is great."
Obviously, she'd thought about this before. After breakups and heartaches, that's what most people did.
"It's just that most people don't get to be in love. They just get infatuated, think they've got all kinds of feelings, but they don't. You don't know you're in love until you find it, you know? And then you look back and you're like '...damn, what was I thinking there?'" When he started with the tequila again, she curled her long fingers around his bicep. "C'mon, we're gettin' out of here. You don't need that shit. You love your liver more than that!" Laughing and dragging him up off of his stool, the little firecracker always made things seem like they'd be okay. No matter what. "C'mon already!" Tugtug.
She was going to make him go to her favorite spot in the park and he was going to enjoy it. Damnit.

He just ...stared. Nonplussed. Obviously, she had thought this out in some depth before.
"I guess you're righ--ugh.." Pulled! He was rumbling around a deep seated chuckle then
at her sudden enthusiasm to budge him from his self-pity bubble. But it was so..nice and gloomy here.
"I hate liver." Deadpan.
"Fuck it all, right? I hear yeah. It's just another holiday mass orchestrated by the industry to sell more candy. And flowers. Quite frankly, I'm allergic." Um.. pause.
"Where are we going?" Brow arch. Not that it mattered.

"Shit, you're... pretty." He was drunk but it wasn't said in that creepy old guy way.
Just, halting like as though just seeing it for the first time.
Sometimes he could be so ..unconsciously..sweet.


"I'm not pretty, you're just drunk." Was her response to him, which wasn't exactly a positive one. Arm through his, she pulled him out the door and into the sunlight. It was bright out and even though there was snow on the ground, it wasn't too cold out. Not unbearably, anyway.

"So what's your name, cowboy?" She was leading him down the street, through random alleyways and across busy roads to get to the park. God, she loved it there. The trees,
the flowers -- okay, so the snow? It was pretty in the winter too! What she really wanted to see was the lake. It was gorgeous, all frozen over. The fountain, a swan, looked like an ice sculpture that was melting, what with the dripping and all. It was just behind the lake though, past a few trees, that her secret place hid. A gazebo that looked like it belonged on a cake, ornamental and covered in snow, with a view over the park to die for. People never really wandered this far back, they didn't care to take in scenery. Emily wasn't that kind of person. Emily enjoyed just sitting, watching sunsets and sunrises... the finer things.

"I'm not so drunk," he mumbled around a jaw splitting yawn. Calloused fingertips scrubbed against a few days worth of stubble. "But you are cosi bellisima fiore.." One beautiful flower. Italians could make anything sound sexy. The harsh sunlight seared the back of his eyes like a thousand tiny pin-pricks of unbelievable pain. He tugged on the brim of his oversized stetson. Squinting in her direction and his arm began to tingle curiously right where she had seemed to attach herself. "Folks mainly just call me cowboy ..or Mac.." He offered easily, with a hint of a Texas drawl. Because Pancrazio Mackenzy was a bit of a ...mouthful.
Flash of near blinding white within bronzed, rugged features.
Did he wink? It was so fast she might have missed it. "And yours?" He supposed angels had no names. That line hadn't worked in the past so he just kept that gem to himself and mulled it over instead. Mackenzy used to be one of those people.
Always too busy to enjoy the simple things in life.
A walk in the park would have been one of the last things on his to do list today.

However, he was enjoying the brief respite, breathing in lung fulls of crisp, clean air and his eyes fell closed momentarily before he swiveled grey-greens back towards Emily's slightly flushed face. The chill had a most fetching rose color high in her cheeks and the tip of her nose. No, beautiful didn't seem to do the firecracker justice. He nudged a boot into the ground and seemed to find inordinate interest in the studying of it. Lower lip suffered a grazing of his teeth. How surreal it felt to be drinking himself into an early grave one moment then standing in a winter wonderland with a complete stranger the next.

Emily wasn't blind, you know. She saw Mac. Really saw him -- he was gorgeous! She knew that the moment she walked in. But that really wasn't why she struck up the conversation. Handsome wasn't enough to catch her eye alone... but the deeper meaning, hidden back behind his eyes or in the way he drank, that was enough to get her there... to drag him outside, in the middle of winter, for therapy. Maybe she needed it too.

"Mac, huh? I'm Emily." And she was bouncing up the steps to get inside the gazebo, because it was too pretty to just stand there and stare at. If that made any sense? "So, cowboy. Who broke your heart this time?" She was facing the scenery, not him, when she asked the question. She wasn't sure he'd be the type to open up after ten seconds of knowing each ther, but sometimes people surprised her. He'd done an okay job of that so far, in fact. "A pretty girl, I hope. I'd hate to have to comfort you over some lame ass boyfriend." Ohh she cracked herself up.

"Mackenzy, actually.." He murmured. He'd always hated that nickname. "Oh, you're a spitfire." Captain of the obvious. You had to have a heart first for it to be broken. He'd lost his a long time ago. "I'm not broken hearted." He was trying to act tough. Sniffing derisively. Cheap shot. He wasn't fooling anyone. The strap from his guitar case was adjusted against one broad shoulder and he simply shrugged and played it off like it was nothing. He didn't have a problem with opening up anymore. "I just found out the hard way most people aren't worth your time in getting to know." Whoa. He grinned suddenly. "Yes, it was a woman. Couple actually." He was a player. Riiight. Because in this town, men who looked like Mac usually batted for the other team. Ha.

"Oh, you're not? That's funny. I could have sworn you were swearing off women and pledging your loyalties to Lady Tequila back in that bar." She was gathering a bunch of snow from the railing and packing it, discreetly, into a little ball. Just keepin' her hands busy, that's all!

"Ohhh oh, right. Yeah, I forgot about how it works around here -- if you meet a guy and he isn't gay, then he's a slut. I really need to keep that in mind." Tapping her temple, a smirk firmly in place, the little firecracker (not so little, she was five foot seven! That's tall...ish) turned to lean against a post. "Funny how things work, isn't it?" Who knew where her train of thought derailed at. Instead of letting him answer, she launched that snowball at his head.
"I win." A sure way to victory! Muwahaa.

He grinned, an infuriatingly lazy knowing sort of smile. He was too much of a randy bastard to ever swear off women for very long. Now, love on the other hand... not touching that one. "I'm insulted by that--" And promptly received a mouthful of snow. Sputter.

Cowboy wasn't a man whore. Far from it. Could count the number on one hand. Not that he was going to tell her that! Now was the time to exact horrible revenge. "I can't believe you just did that." Teeth chattering, rapidly melting snow dripped from his chin. No snow balls fabricated from him. That was kid stuff. Plucking Emily up from her lounge against the gazebo's post, and fully intending on tossing her into a very inviting snowbank. She had some time to wrestle free, his hold was overly firm, though she would feel the underlying strength within those steely arms. His face contorted into a mask of pure boyish adulation. Winter had passed and he hadn't indulged in a single snow fight.
Couldn't have that now..nosiree. "I demand a rematch!" Mock growl, reverberating within his chest along with the rumbled chuckling.

"Too late, I won! Don't be a sore loser, cowboy!" She was laughing and trying to struggle free, really she was! But the laughing kind of impeded that -- damnit!
The snowbank was a-comin', wasn't it? "I can kick your ass! You better put me down!" Screeching, but in a semi-delighted way (she hadn't gotten to play in the snow yet either).
"I know ten... uh, ten thousand ways to kill a man! Put me doooown!" Flailing obviously wasn't working because he was awfully strong. She must have missed that in him before.
"I'll buy you a kitten?" Grabbing onto a passing tree, she held on for dear life -- like it would help? If she got a splinter, she was going to cry. Okay, well maybe not cry, but she'd bitch! "Mackenzyyyy!" Whining didn't become her, did it?

"Only ten thousand, hm? I have a kitten already, bella." Heated rasp along the inside of her neck just below the shell of her ear. He chose not to think of it as whining but screaming. Yes, delighted squealing. "Ahh, you bellow my name so sweetly, dear Emily. Next time I'll make sure it's worth winding yourself over the shouting of it." God, he was a rogue!
When she latched onto bark, he was still going full tilt and the sudden delay caused his steps to falter. This was NOT part of the plan! "Aw shit," he muttered. And down they both went into the bank. PLOP. He was laughing the entire time. Oh, man.

Emily was laughing too. Just laughing. It felt good to do that! She hadn't in a really long while. Despite her interesting view on the world and her ability to make people feel so much better, she just couldn't do it for herself. "I think I got snow up my nose." Laughing still, she sat up and leaned over to brush snow out of Mac's hair. "If I get sick, I blame you. Just so you know." But instead of standing up and brushing herself off, she just rolled toward a flatter piece of untouched snow and land and worked on a snow angel. She was already cold, what was a little more snow and a little more time outside going to hurt?
"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" As an afterthought, as she was laying there, because falling could hurt things! You never know. (And she was a really, really, really big worrier.)


As though they were on some movie set and the prop department set the snow machine
on romantic snowflakes, the stuff began to flutter down from the heavens in a lazy dance
of white. "Just my pride." Self-deprecating grin twisted along the lines of his generous mouth. He watched her, as though in a trance. Saw her brush the snow from his hair and do her part to help aid in the scenery by decorating the landscape with snow angels. Numbed though not by cold. Speechless.
"God, Emily, you're .." He gasped for both breath and his words. Shaking his head then,
at a loss. "Pretty amazing, you know that?" Packing up some snow into a healthy shape and hurling it in her direction, trying to be light hearted about it all. Refusing to think about his crazily tripping heart. It was the fall... and adrenaline.

Sure it was! That's exactly what she was telling herself too -- it was just cold, her heart wasn't beating faster when he looked at her. Naaaah. "Ow! Homo." Did she just call him...
a homo? Heh! "That's it, I win. Game over!" She didn't really feel like retaliating. Maybe it was frostbite. Staring up at the sky and the passing clouds, she watched her breath swirl upward onward. "It's kind of cold out. Geez." Yeah, because she was LAYING in the SNOW!
Sometimes, she didn't have a lot of common sense. She was blond, after
all. Teeth chattering, she avoided looking at him at all costs. She just couldn't -- she didn't like the way her heart was gearing up to completely betray her just because he had a really handsome smile. Emily had to close her eyes, she really did. Stupid heart. Stupid boys!


...She did not just.. call him... He nearly roared. Going for the pin! "If you won, what did you win, hmm?" He wasn't gay, really. Why did so many people get that mistaken impression of him? Seriously, you wear ONE measly glitter t-shirt and people drew all kinds of wrong asumptions. How rude.

She looked cold, so he brushed a kiss along the curve of her cheek. He was just...being a gentleman. Really.

"I won... the uh... I am the snow queen! I guess." Did she want to be? Uh, sure. When she got a kiss against her cheek? She squeaked. Smiled! But squeaked.
"You only just met me, silly boy." Stating the obvious was something she was rather good at. It wasn't like she was upset about it or anything. Obviously.
"I'm still cold." And instead of doing anything normal about it, she grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down beside her. These little flings were always the most fun, weren't they? God, she hoped it was just a little fling! Maybe he was just using her before moving on -- she didn't know, she didn't care. (She kept telling herself she didn't care, anyway.)

At least then, if she was expecting to be hurt, it would soften the blow right? Emily always expected boys to break her heart. "Keep me warm." Snuggling up against him, cold nose in his neck. They really should have been, you know, not
outside. But hey! Better than not snuggling at all.

(Taken from live play 2.13.05)

<font color="#996600" size="1">[ February 26, 2005 01:47 PM: Message edited by: incomplete addiction ]</font>