the door to the purple turtle swings open, the sun that illuminates her golden features chase her inside, showing its mark on the floor before its swept away as the door swings shut, leaving the girl alone and taking her shadow with it. the nostalgia floods her system as her gaze flits around the room, memories playing like a montage in her brain - she’d never been old enough to be in here, in fact - she was still one year shy, but that had never stopped her before. she makes her way to the bar, taking a seat on a stool. she waits for a particular blonde boy to notice her, her lips tilt into an infectious grin as their eyes meet. she’s silent for a moment before her hand is digging into her small purse, pulling out her fake id - alex weston from nebraska. “one more year and i can finally actually be paige levinsky in here.” she teases, as she slides him her id - knowing full well he’s never cared to card her. “like what you’ve done with the place, aiden. new flooring? rest in peace to that legendary spot my tinder date projectile vomited that one time.” her words swim out of her lips, keeping her tone casual - as if they hadn’t been absent from each other’s lives for three years. she was beginning to make her rounds around town like a game of russian roulette, the ball spinning and bouncing between black or red, black or red - except in paige's case it was happy or pissed, happy or pissed. @aidenmeadows
