and she looks a lot like you. Smooth talking, keep walking, no stopping, bar hopping. Don't need no excuse, I got my own issues complicated, frustrated, but so damn scared to change this. Talk to me, every hour of everyday they talk to me. I'm not going back again, I'm not going back again..All I need is a luxury and she looks a lot like you. Got a fever but I believe that I'm gonna see this through. Want to share but I'm so damn scared and it hurts when you can't even go nowhere. You're the one that keeps me going...One more day, worth the wait, you'll be driving me home
Her apartment had to be her safe haven. She lived alone, it was her sanctuary. It was everything she had wanted. Nothing was ever out of place for long. From the fresh flowers to the birch trees on the wall, to the simple and clean color pallet that was already in place long before she moved in worked well with her. She made small apartment cozy and it screamed Freya Skyn Ellwood
to anyone that came in. It was her own little get away, she spent enough time here why wouldn’t she make it home. Having made the move to Chicago, she had moved from her parents’ house in Seattle, she wouldn’t have taken dorm life and the back and forth moving between well. She knew staying in Chicago year round with trips home for Christmas and a week or two in the summer would be better in the long run for her. While living in the small apartment could become lonely, friends and friends
were always welcome to come over. She was willing to wake up whenever anyone needed to talk, and her door way always metaphorically open. And finding a friend and fling in Mark had made huge strides in her self confidence. While she was great with people, she would often shy away, having pigeonholed something that was wrong about her. She was too weird, she was too little, she was this, she was that, she wasn’t the girl that people wanted to befriend, she wasn’t the girl anyone wanted to hold a romantic relationship with. She wasn’t what people thought she would have been. But it wasn’t until she took off to Europe that she started to grow into herself, and in the recent past, Mark had helped her become more comfortable in her skin. She felt more comfortable dressing in the things she enjoyed, and not keeping modest and meek. And seeing this in the high-low hem in her pulled down tank top and the black skinny jeans was proof. A year ago she’d be hiding in a lose fitting t-shirt and hide behind her mop of blonde hair. Her freckles spent more time covered up than they did on display. But she had started to love the person she was, truly.
The blonde nodded simply at his response, and to be honest she would have loved having a day off today. During the summer she worked most days, and while she did love her job, there was only so much she could handle from week to week. Sipping at the bottle in her hand, she realized just how comfortable she was around him as she was rested against him. Her eyes had fallen on the bottle that was now resting on the couch, supported by her hand to avoid cider across her couch. Even with the silence that had fallen between them, she felt comfortable. She didn’t need to have constant conversation. She could be awkward the more she spoke, and right now she was comfortable with her food, her cider, and her head resting on his shoulder. When he spoke on how Hawaiian pizza seemed to be his favorite, the blonde shifted her gave up towards him, still leaning up against him. “Well I’m glad I made the right choice then,” She smile up towards him, her half eaten slice of pizza was in her lap as she spoke, her blue eyes connecting on his green ones. “If there’s any leftover you’re more than welcome to take it if you want it.” She said with a bit of a shrug from the shoulder opposite from him. Truth be told, she often worried about the state of the band house and if they had food, and this included all of them, there was more to food than just slushies and oreos. While pizza may not be the best food to send back, who didn’t like left over pizza anyways?