â I bet you can't defeat me â || Roxie & Jet
They were now squeezed up in a photo booth, the girl atop Jetâs lap. She was so tiny and light that she hardly bothered Jet. "Youâre quite comfy, you know it?" she purred, closer into his face. He unconsciously pulled his arm around her, making her back lean onto his torso. His arms were kept on her lap, loosely hugging her into his body.
"So, what kind of photo do you want to take?"Â she asked, readjusting herself in the guitaristâs grasp.
Before Jet could answer her question, the rockette found herself sliding a quarter into the slot on the wall before the two. Zap. A bright light flashed into their eyes, Jet flinching slightly at the sudden zap. Another one and Jet was still stunned. The black-haired boy tilted his head to the left and mustered a great grin on his face, bringing the girl closer as he peered from the side of her head.
He let out a chuckle, striking a different pose, photo after photo.
Without even realizing, she accidentally pushed on the start button, a sudden flash as the two of them got taken by surprise, a soft giggle leaked from her rosy lips. Hopeless. Just two foolish hopeless musicians that were having tons of fun in a photo booth. He kept a rather wide smile as he turned at the camera, forcing Roxie to do as well, bringing her face close to his, their cheeks touching as they made comical faces at the camera. She was having fun, having fun with one of her favourite friend, possibly a rather special one.
A close friend, she thought, turquoise eyes shifted to stare at him, crimson eyeballs staring back at her, he seemingly was slightly lost in himself, his wide grin still perching on his lips. A rather cute boyâ, thoughts flowing in her brain like a tidal wave, increasing doubts and lust, almost getting her senses going numb as she felt his face even closer to hers. What am I to you? Wordless, still thinking, not really capable of pronouncing those words, that question, an awful fear of getting rejected and perhaps misunderstood by her most dearie friend.
Slowly, she gently cupped his face with her pale hands, fingers grazing his cheeks as she leant a little closer to his visage, words eventually leaked from her lips as she denied risks and misapprehensions. âHow do you feel about me?â a simple question, yet a meaningful one, trying to really understand his feelings toward her, even though nothing could be truly verified, mostly now as both of them werenât completely sober. She had been indeed brave, yet she took a great risk as she asked such question, not even considering what he might think about her intentions and how he might react to her inquiry. What if he leaves? A glacial grip tightened around her heart, a dreadful fear spread throughout her skin, he couldnât leave her, no chances.
âIâm sorryââ she then lastly said, fingers slowly lowering on his neck, turquoise eyes seeming rather disappointed as she shifted her gaze downward, shame coloring her cheeks with hues of red.














