jaime-chavez:
Jaime’s smile widened as the girl continued to talk, nodding his head quickly. “Your car it is,” he said with a light chuckle, glancing down to his guitar case and bag. “Yeah, that sounds good, I gotta put my stuff in my room, any way. Meet you here in a few.” With that, he shuffled into the house, glancing to the staircase. then to the living room. No one would mess with his stuff if he left it downstairs, right? Well, he was hoping on that. Setting the items onto the couch, he made his way back to the porch, leaning against the railing. As he waited for Casey, Jaime pulled out his phone, typed in his pass code, and scrolled through Instagram.
If Casey was coordinated, she would have taken the steps two at a time in order to get to her room faster. However, Casey knew if she had done that she would have face planted and been too embarrassed to come out for the rest of the night. Throwing Murder on the Orient Express on the desk next to her bed. Focusing, Casey dug through the rest of the crap on her desk, and pulled out ten different items before finding the keys to her yellow Volkswagon Bug. A squee escaped her lips as she quickly walked out of her room and back down the steps–nearly slipping before hitting the bottom. Deciding not to look like a crazy person, the redhead slowed to just a walk, and stepped back outside. Jingling her keys to get his attention, she smiled. “Let’s go get some coffee,” she said, already starting to walk to her Bug.
Jaime grinned to himself, liking a few memes and photos, until he heard the jingling of Casey's keys. "Hell yeah," he replied with a faint chuckle, shuffling a few steps behind the redhead as they headed to her car. "So, Casey," he started, glancing to her with a smile, "tell me a little about yourself. Other than your disdain of Agatha Christie's chatty characters."
