fraternaliis

We can plot

We can be friends

          She simply cuts herself off, giving a shrug at his answer             before she took another sip of the sweetened black coffee.

         ❝ This whole post graduation mess                 is a little more exhausting than I                 thought it'd be. ❞

Her parents had told her there was going to be someone new living in their house—-not that she exactly cared. She spent most of her time in her room anyway, secluding herself from her family as best as she could, as she always has. She’s grateful she has an excuse now, though; college really does take a lot of her time, whether she’s on campus or at home reading volumes or writing novels of papers for her Comparative Literature major. But she’s decided to dart downstairs for once, grab a bottle of water because, hey—she’s still human, isn’t she?

                     Quick to make her way to the kitchen and she’ll               pop open the fridge to acquire her water; she                      takes a seat at the island when she hears                someone coming in——positive it’s only her                      mother or her father to be a nuisance. She won’t               even turn around, simply calls out over her                      shoulder like it’s a burden for her.

Southern hospitality. It was clear as day that the cherub needed to grow accustomed to his  surroundings. Especially, because Los Angeles was nothin' like his home back in New Orleans -- back in the Ninth Ward. This new aura, this new home made him feel like somewhat of an alley cat. The Harmons had money; it was evident. Though, why they needed help paying their bills wasn't exactly much of a thought. Living in a home as vast and spacious as theirs was something of a luxury in other parts of the States. Hell, they were even worth a good stipend down by Louisiana. And Kyle, well, with his new job straight out of Tulane, he was more than willing to help with bills as long as he had a roof over his head. The Harmons couldn't have offered him anything better compared to what he was looking at in the  market. Eighteen hundred a months, all expenses included to live in the guest house. That was deal he couldn't beat since it was what he was able to afford without trouble. The blond cherub was one to always show his  gratitude. His heart yearned for acceptance  and making a good impression to this  family was imperative. So just as he was  heading off to run a few errands, probably  to buy new furniture at IKEA, Vivien was  pulling up with a trunk load of groceries.  Kyle Spencer couldn't resist the urge to  help.                                                  He  slowly walks into the kitchen,                                                 from the front door, through the                                                 corridor, bag in his arm as he's                                                 met with the silhouette of a girl                                                 he could only assume was the                                                  Harmons' daughter. Luckily,                                                 for Kyle, he's used to such a                                                  greeting from his former frat                                                 brothers.       ❝ I take it you're Violet. ❞                                                           He starts, setting the bag down                             onto the kitchen island as he                             comported himself to meet with                             her, face to face. And with such                             sweet, selfless demeanor, he                             extends his hand in polite                             gesture.