for someone who is self-proclaimed from all over, she doesn’t expect to be so unmoored after a summer being one of those too-much girls in new york city, after wearing her list of rules like a layer of lipstick-ed protection. see, she’s perfected the art of self defense in floral patterns & little quips, in playing it off like there isn’t anything that can affect her in a way that she can’t push it off with a press of her lips to her fingertips & a flirty wink thrown to the nosebleed bleachers.
it’s too hot for the end of a rockford august ; there’s a fine layer of disused silt over her mitt. that first damn that had passed between her sly smile the first time she’d seen @forelorn swing a bat is perilously close to loosing now. but things are ... different ... between them now, and the rouge capping her cheeks is overly warm considering she just stepped out of the shade.
“ hey there, coach, ” doesn’t lack for familiarity, knuckling into the pat of her fist & itching to throw that playbook of her own jurisdiction to the wind in favor of throwing her arms around shaw in front of god & country. instead, she lets the curl of her lips tuck up at one side with the rise of her brow. “ so, where’d you end up this summer? better say something that’ll make me proud. ”











