-- 'My sin, my soul.' Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let's even smile.
They said Dolly Salvatory was dangerous, but not in the traditional sense—not with the sharp edges of a femme fatale or the calculation of a seductress. No, her danger lay in her softness, in her light. She never knew how to weaponize herself—the world did that for her. And nowhere was that clearer than in the way older men responded to her.
From a young age, Dolly existed in a sphere where men were not boys, and boys were not enough. It was never a conscious preference—it was just that boys her age fumbled and stared, while older men lingered. They knew how to talk, how to stand close without touching, how to touch without asking. They had experience. And in her dreamy naiveté, Dolly mistook experience for safety.
She didn’t chase older men. She never had to. Professors, married businessmen, family friends with thinning hair and gold watches, all looked at her like they were suddenly thirteen again—awkward, flushed, nervous.
She wasn’t malicious. She just lingered. She’d hold their eyes a second too long. Tilt her head when they spoke, her lips parted like she was learning a secret. She’d laugh at things that weren’t quite funny, soft and musical, like she wanted to be liked. Her skirts were short—not to provoke, but because she liked feeling the breeze on her knees.
To Dolly, these men weren’t predators. They were portals. To something more. To attention, to knowledge, to rooms she wasn’t supposed to be in. And she wanted to be in them. She wanted to be seen, spoken to like a woman, chosen.
She never fully understood the tension she created—how her presence made men unravel in the privacy of their own minds. How they went home to wives and couldn’t explain the ache behind their eyes, or the ghost of a giggle that followed them to bed.
Dolly liked older men, but not for their power. She liked the way they watched her like she was made of glass and temptation all at once. The way they asked her about poetry, or Paris, or politics—even if they didn’t care about her answers. She liked the way they made her feel like she mattered in a room where she didn’t belong.
She didn’t know how to say no, because the attention filled some hollow part of her she didn’t yet have the language to describe. She didn’t know what boundaries were because no one had ever taught her. And by the time she learned, she'd already become the kind of girl people wrote about in scandal and regret.
They would stare too long at the curve of her collarbone, find themselves wondering what she thought about in the shower, feel guilt blossom too late to do anything but drown in it. Some would try to be noble, paternal. They’d warn her about the world. Tell her to be careful. Stay away from men like them.
Dolly didn’t seduce. She existed. And somehow, that was more dangerous. She was the echo of youth in their aging bones. She was innocence dressed in lipstick, curled hair, and fluttery lashes.
She never asked to be the reason they questioned their marriages, their morals, their faith. But she was. Dolly was not manipulative. She wasn’t playing a game. She was the game, and she didn’t even know it. She didn’t use her sweetness—it used her much more.
She didn’t break men. They broke themselves over her. Because Dolly Salvatory was never dangerous.
She was simply desired.
And that, sometimes, is more dangerous than anything else.
She blinked, taming a wide smile, air making locks of her hair flow into her face, cheeks flushing with color from the sudden cold or something else entirely.
"...Lucky. That's weird, it's like you could sniff me out, like a fox..."
She giggled, contemplating for a split second, before exhaling quietly, then reaching for his hand. She wouldn't want him stubbing his toe on a rock on the way.
Hey you all I want to say that @verygoodlawyer is my best friend now. Hello moot! (Idk if that's what you're called since I'm only learning around here 🤭)
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
"If someone doesn't complete law school, their prospects of working in the field are relatively low. They wouldn't have the proper requirements to work as a lawyer, but assuming they went to law school after they got their bachelor's degree, they would be able to use their bachelor's as a fall back plan."
Now that, was going to sit with her. Maybe she should've agreed with the florist chain her father asked her to manage. With an academic record like hers, it was doubtful if she would be accepted.
She sighed. Mumbled, as if to brush the subject off.
She turned her head, two curlers in her hair, one on each side, looking like silly, silly space buns. Tilting her head in thought, she took the lolipop in hand before speaking up.
"I wouldn't mind. And frankly, New York has been boring for a while now."
She flashed a little grin, scooting over so he can sit by and sets her magazine down.
"Busy? Sir, do I look like I'm having anything other than the time of my life, right now?"
She said, sliding him a cup of iced water. The sun was battering them down with heat. She didn't know Manhattan could be so unforgiving. But good for tan.
"And why not? There's this little place across the street. I know the Cashie back there and he's adorable. A little boy from middle school I think. We could get something nice."
She grinned, overjoyed. It had been long since she had gone out like this. Then she tilted her head, daring to reach out and slide his shades off the bridge of his nose.
"I don't understand why you need these...I don't...think your light receptors work, yes?"
She said, placing them onto her head, making a note of taking a picture in those later. Cool.
"Light receptors don't work, that is correct, but the sunglasses work to keep dirt and dust out of my eyes. I also can't tell when there's light coming directly into my eyes so the sunglasses make sure what's left working in my eyes isn't getting damaged any further when I happen to be facing the sun."
She walked with him, skippy steps and occasionally taking long, curious glances back at him. She always wondered if no colors or no light made a difference at all.
Then, she said.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who has to argue for a living..."
She giggled, slightly nervous. She was damn sure the joke didn't land the way it was supposed to. Other people would forgive her for having a terrible humor from pretty privileges. But now, she just felt shallow.
"Well, losing chin fat and...breadstick recipe, and...how Christina Aguilera used to fake an interest in Formula One..."
She giggled, sitting by a table for two, at a window, watching it start to drizzle. Then made a gentle pout and held his hand closer from a gentle nervousness...
She chewed on her lips, trying to think of a sane explanation for everything she was thinking. Her mind was half focused on trying to calm her breathing, trying to calm her heartbeat. She was only glad he couldn't see her, or wonder if she looked sick all of a sudden.
"Storms were really...bad, back in Europe."
She exhaled, awkwardly slipping her tightly gripping hand off, knowing that it probably seemed creepy that she held so tight.
Her breath clicks into place as he reaches again, but she doesn't pull away this time. Smiles, if not happily, then definitely in relief. It was supposed to be strange. It was supposed to be strange that a man she didn't know much, in New York, was willing to stick around.
She had seen this all too well, back when she was 16 and there were men already around trying to sneak a touch.
But she smiled, her heart still racing rhythmically. Matt wasn't all of that. She didn't want to bring up anything from that time. But she didn't know what to say.
With a nervous chuckle, she exhaled.
"...Let's order?"
She said her gaze fixated on him. She was happy he wouldn't be able to see.
Her eyes sparkle. She's happy he doesn't see how often she does this little hitch where she almost jumps from excitement.
"...that's nice, could you-"
She froze. She had just stopped herself from embarrassing herself. She was stupid. Why would she tried to ask him to look for a waiter? It was...dumb. She blinked rapidly.
"...I mean I'll...order."
She said, before calling a young boy over who left with their order. She sighed. She needed to think well. He was going to think she was doing that on purpose.
But she blinked.
"...Hey, that means you've never tried creative cafe brews, Matt...?"
She said, turning her head up to catch his gaze from where he seemed to looked into the void.
