the last five years went by and anika thought that she would have gotten comfortable with the slow pace of a small town by now. but perhaps she missed the hustle and bustle of l.a., constantly shutting down the posers and haters of the world now resorted solely online. anika missed the cat fights. letting out a sigh, she pushed her obnoxiously large gucci sunglasses over her eyes and climbed out of her tesla. dripped to the nines, she was on her way to work that morning when she bumped into a blurring individual and knocked her off balance. “excuse me?!” she spat. “it’s eight o’clock in the morning and i haven’t even had my coffee. can you seriously watch where the fuck you’re going?”
assuming noah will one day be a morning person is akin to waiting for hell to freeze over, a fact further evidenced by the bags under his eyes ( you know how in every household there’s a plastic bag full of other plastic bags ? yeah, that’s how bad it is ) and the comically large energy drink they carry.
everything goes into stop-motion mode once he collides against someone, though. there’s the energy drink escaping his grip and spilling over, there’s his bag falling to the floor, and pretty much the only thing needed to complete the montage is some classical music.
at first, noah doesn’t quite process the other’s words.
. . . and once they do, noah doesn’t do much more than blink a couple times looking thoroughly unimpressed. then, after a brief pause, “ i was, but i don’t think you were. can you actually see anything out of those glasses, anyway ? ”