It had been some day at work. Her latest piece had to be rewritten, because as Sam had put it, "it just wasn't her best work." And so, she had spent the majority of the afternoon doing that. Stopping by the store on the way home, she picked up what she needed for dinner, and headed straight to the house
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After that he had gotten ready, choosing something completely casual. Jeans, a casual button-up shirt that had short sleeves, and his black boots. Of course, since he was so picky about his shaving habits, he had shaved and his hair was trimmed. Maybe he was a bit of a perfectionist in that sense, but he wanted to look good for her. Before arriving at her place he had decided to pick up something on the way for her, to surprise her again.
While he waited for her to open the door, he had been looking down at the flowers he was holding, making sure that they looked ok. At her voice, saying it was open, he chuckled under his breath and walked inside as he looked for her ( ... )
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She smiled as she walked over to him, her barefeet making virtually no noise against the hardwood floor. "Hi," she smiled. Noticing the flowers, she shook her head with a smile on her face. "Smart man," she said with a wink.
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"Hey," he replied, his smile still on his face. At what she said about the flowers, he chuckled. "I thought you might like them." Before saying anything else, though, he wasted no time and kissed her when she got to him; having missed the taste of her lips. He had missed her...
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She kissed his cheek, before going and taking the food out of the oven, and setting it on two trivets on the counter. "Look around if you want, I'm going to finish this up, okay?"
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Smiling he looked at the painting. He chuckled before grinning at her. "Really? It's beautiful... Are you sure you don't mind, though...?"
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She sighed a happy sigh, and with a smile on her face - she rememebered that dinner was out, and probably cold or well on its way to being that. Deciding that she had an oven, dinner could be reheated - she just watched him. "So, that's the studio. That closet over there," she pointed to a door in the back of the room, "is full of paint, and pencils.. and things I've written over the years. It's like a little room unto itself, but that's how it goes I guess."
"Bathroom is across the hall, there's a guestroom upstairs - we can go up there if you want, there's not much to see, and..." she said, "my room is down the hall. There's pictures on the walls in hall, too. More snapshots of my past."
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He didn't even remember the food, to be honest. "How long have you been living here?" His place was nothing like hers, and now he was a bit self-conscious about taking her there. It was so empty compared to this.
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Shifting a bit while all of that was going on, she couldn't get comfortable. With a bit of an "uggh" sound, she found herself standing back on the floor - which was her intention. "That,"
she pointed back to the counter for a moment, as if to prove her point, "wasn't very comfortable after a few minutes."
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