Post by Blake Emma Renner on Dec 10, 2016 14:18:16 GMT -5
So long Texas. Goodbye barbequed animal flesh. See you later closed minded small town hicks. After months of begging, she was here. She was in Los Angeles, and damnit she was going to make it. Though, all her mom cared about was that she make it….to school. Blake looked up at the house. It was a little smaller than what she was used to. Homes cost more in this city. But she swore someday she’d be back to Texas, albeit a bigger city… like Dallas. And she’d buy the whole damn town if she had to. If there was one thing she knew about herself it’s that she was a Texas girl, through and through. Nothing was going to make her lose that part of herself. Sure, they’d hired movers. But it wasn’t like she trusted them with everything; namely.. her guitars.
It had been maybe a couple of hours. Bedrooms were all the same. Blake didn’t need to waste time checking that out. Instead, she had occupied herself with working in the kitchen. So far she had made some lavender lemonade for the movers since it was so hot out. Next, she’d been working on some homemade blueberry shortcakes. She had just finished the whipping cream when she heard a crash. No.. no, no. Blake ran out of the kitchen and to the front yard, ignoring that she should wipe the whipped cream off of her fingers as she stepped into the front yard. Her eyes widened as she saw three of her guitars on the ground, the movers quickly trying to pick them up before she could see any of the damage that was done. Just as she was about to say something, say….well what exactly she wasn’t sure yet, but something, the garage door across the street started to open. Blake looked away, back at the movers, before the slow moving door caught her eye again. Because there he was. She didn’t know his name, but she knew this was monumental. She was witnessing the entrance of a Greek God and she was standing here with whipped cream on her fingers and wearing.. oh god. Blake looked down at her outfit, realizing that she was wearing blue jean shorts and a cat t-shirt. She reached up, pushing her glasses back onto her face which became smudged with the whipped cream as she looked back at the young man who was now stepping out of his garage. She watched as his hands moved at the side of his jeans, wiping grease from presumably working on his car. Was this happening in slow motion? She stood motionless as he reached his hand to the back of his shirt, pulling it off smoothly. And what felt like was the world moving in slow motion started moving at an alarmingly quick speed as Blake widened her eyes, before snapping her attention back to the movers. “Please don’t drop any more of these,” Blake said protectively as she began to pick up her guitars.
When she got inside she shut the door with her foot before leaning her back against the door, dropping her guitars herself to the floor. Who was that? Blake took a moment, tapping her fingers against the wooden door before she sprung into action. Moving quickly she made her way up the stairs, tearing her hair out of the braid that it was in, and shook out her curls. She was going to take a shower, try to straighten her hair. But considering there were movers in and out of the house, she didn’t think that it would be appropriate. So instead she slipped into the closet, digging through a ton of boxes until she was able to tear out a white sundress and some of her cowboy boots. She put them both on quickly, hopping out of her room as she tried to pull her boots on, running down the stairs as quickly as she could.
She moved past a worker, who was about to take his first sip of lavender lemonade from a plastic cup, but took it from him since he hadn’t yet. Once in the kitchen, she put the lemonade in a mason jar, putting a lid on it and then wrapping a ribbon around the lid. Blake took out a floral napkin, lining a hand basket with it. She gently placed the mason jar of lemonade, before placing the blueberry shortcake into a container and placing that in as well. She took in a deep breath, looking up at the disaster that was her hair and tried to smooth her hands over it as easily as possible. With a slight grunt of disapproval, she picked up the hand basket before nervously making her way across the street.
The closer she got to him, the more she felt like she could feel her heart beating from her chest, to her throat. Everywhere. It was pulsating across her entire body. As she got closer to the garage she realized there was music playing. Oh, so that just didn’t appear because of him? ”Hi,” she said timidly, before clearing her throat. “Hi,” she said more assertively, blinking as she looked up at him, standing almost as still as a statue with her hands clasped on the basket in front of her. ” I saw you working it…” she said, widening her eyes, “The car. I saw you working on the car.” she said, feeling the blush start to rise on her cheeks. “Yeah,” he said, the smolder coming off of him so easily. “You moving in?” he questioned, which made Blake realize she should probably quit staring at his chest. “Uh…” she stuttered, staring at him for a moment before looking over her shoulder at the moving truck and then back at him again. Speechless. Say…something you moron, she thought to herself. “That’s cute,…..” he said gesturing to the basket, causing Blake to look down at the basket in her hands. Oh yeah, she’d brought something. ”….Where are you from?” he asked. “Dallas,” she said, a bit quietly, before looking back at him. ”Texas…” she said, giving a nod. “I….. “ she said, smiling at him nervously before she stepped toward him, holding the basket up. “I whipped up some blueberry shortcake and made some lavender lemonade…. But I also have mint lemonade if that sounds better,” she said, taking in a breath as she offered the basket out to him.
Blake looked down at her fingers as they held onto the basket, waiting for him to take it. Band aids. Several colored band aids. Great, now she looked like a child. Blake looked at him as he took the basket before holding her hands up slightly. “…..Guitar…” she said, giving a few nervous nods. Blake dropped her arms, putting her hands behind her back. Out of sight, out of mind. “What grade are you going to be in?” he questioned, opening the container to look at the blueberry shortcake before looking back up at her. ” I’m going to be a sophomore,” she said, realizing now how young that must make her sound. But before she could ask him what grade he was going to be in, she noticed the music coming from the radio.
“Do you like Tim McGraw?” she said, her eyes widening with excitement. “This is my favorite song,” she admitted sheepishly before looking down at her feet. “Im sure as much as Im going to like this shortcake. Want to come inside and we can share it?” Blake held her breath for a moment. “Inside? Sure. Yeah. Okay.” she said, giving a nod before she gave one final look to the garage, looking outside at the movers across the street before she followed him into the house. He was saying something about his stepmother… something about her complaining about him ruining his jeans with grease. She could offer her input. Offer to talk to his stepmother about the best way to get grease stains outs. But she didn’t feel like offering motherly advice was a sexually attractive quality right now. So instead she kept silent, moving through the house quietly until they reached the kitchen.
As he was busy getting a plate, Blake looked around the kitchen. There was a picture of a blonde girl, her long hair falling over her shoulders, and she was smiling into the camera like whoever taking the picture was the love of her life. Maybe it was a cousin. She moved across the kitchen, seeing a few more family portraits along the wall until she came to a stop. Her head tilted as she looked at a picture with the now familiar blonde’s face in it. Definitely not cousins. The neighbor, who she was just now realizing she didn’t know his name, had his arms wrapped around the blonde, who was standing on her toes to give him a kiss. Oh. She thought to herself, feeling her shoulders sort of fall. Of course he had a girlfriend. She looked over her shoulder, noticing that he was looking at her, holding up a spare fork for the shortcake. “Parker” she said, closing her eyes before she shook her head. She hadn’t introduced herself… or asked him his name. And for some reason had introduced herself by her last name. “I mean… I’m Blake Parker,” she said,.. giving the picture one last disappointing glance before making her way over to him.
That girls hair was so smooth, straight and blonde. Blake looked down at the floor, bringing her hands up self consciously to her hair and pulled it all over one shoulder, doing her best to try and condense and hide it. “Nice to meet you, Parker,” he said, finally offering her a fork. His hands looked clean. When had he washed them? Maybe when she was busy realizing that he was unattainable… like those Greek Gods. “I’m Logan,” he said, offering another one of those half smirks that she could already tell would haunt her dreams. Logan. That didn’t rhyme with anything. Damn. Blake smiled before sitting on the edge of a kitchen chair, placing her hand under her chin before looking down at the shortcake, half heartedly placing her fork into it. It was hard to fall for your Romeo when he already had a Juliette. “Why did you move here?” he asked before taking his first bite of the shortcake. Blake set her fork down, looking down at her fingertips again before looking back at him. “I’ve been writing songs since I was a little girl. Los Angeles seemed like a better place to make my name than Dallas,” she said, shrugging her shoulder slightly.
It seemed like he found the blueberry shortcake tasty enough. And she had to admit that it was slightly endearing that he drank the lemonade straight from the mason jar instead of putting it in a different glass with ice. And honestly if you asked her what the rest of the conversation was about, she wasn’t sure she could tell you. All she knew was that she was staring down at her boots, her feet swaying slightly as her ankles were crossed over one another. “……Is that your dad’s car?” he asked, making Blake look out of the kitchen window and in the same direction that he was. “Oh, it’s here,” she said with a smile on her face. Most of her friends got brand new Escalades or BMW’s for their cars. Blake had seen this one at an auction and had fallen in love. “Uh, no..” she said, giving a shake of her head. “It’s mine… It breaks down a lot…” she said with slight annoyance. But Logan was already getting up and leaving the table. “Oh,” she said, starting to follow him but then turned back to at least go place all of the dishes in the sink before she ran outside after him. They had just lowered the car into the driveway and Logan had already popped the hood and was looking down at the engine.
“ You said it needs work?” he asked, looking back up at her finally from the front of the car. Blake made a slight face, unsure if whether she was more upset because he already had a girlfriend, or the fact that he seemed to show more interest in her car than anything she had to say so far today. “uh, yeah…” she said, clapping her hands together slightly. “Sometimes it just stalls out.. which, wasn’t as big of a deal back home. But my dad is worried about it being here in the city,” she said, gesturing around them. She watched as Logan seemed to be thinking something over in his mind. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, finally lowering the hood to her car. “I’ll do work on the car in exchange for desserts,” he said. And there it was again. That sly smile that just seemed to come so easily for him. “Oh,… okay” she said, coming to the realization that these little afternoon visits may become habitual for them. Did that mean she had to bake for that long haired blonde too? Because it didn’t really seem like that girl had ever come close to a pastry. “Deal,” she said, deciding to offer him a polite smile before she put her hand out to shake his.
Just as he had taken her hand in his, an all too familiar truck pulled into the driveway. It’s entrance was met quickly by the sound of boots hitting the pavement. The disapproving scowl that followed quickly behind did not disappoint for the reputation of surly cowboys everywhere. The sound of his footsteps was permeable as Blake looked toward her father coming towards them, very aware of the fact that Logan was shirtless. “Hi daddy…” she said, pushing some of the hair from her face. “This is Logan…” she said, gesturing to the boy beside her and figuring how quickly he decided to put his shirt on would depict how the next few years of his life would go. Her father looked between the two of them, offering a grunt in a response of a greeting. “… He’s offered to help work on the car in exchange for dessert,” she said, trying to smooth over some of the tension. “I’m sure he did…” her dad stated, keeping his eyes locked on Logan. “Sweetheart, why don’t you head on inside to help unpack your mama’s fine china,” he said, abruptly dismissing her. Blake looked over at Logan, offering a slight smile. “I’ll see you around,” she said quietly, giving a slight wave before turning to run back into her house.
It had been maybe a couple of hours. Bedrooms were all the same. Blake didn’t need to waste time checking that out. Instead, she had occupied herself with working in the kitchen. So far she had made some lavender lemonade for the movers since it was so hot out. Next, she’d been working on some homemade blueberry shortcakes. She had just finished the whipping cream when she heard a crash. No.. no, no. Blake ran out of the kitchen and to the front yard, ignoring that she should wipe the whipped cream off of her fingers as she stepped into the front yard. Her eyes widened as she saw three of her guitars on the ground, the movers quickly trying to pick them up before she could see any of the damage that was done. Just as she was about to say something, say….well what exactly she wasn’t sure yet, but something, the garage door across the street started to open. Blake looked away, back at the movers, before the slow moving door caught her eye again. Because there he was. She didn’t know his name, but she knew this was monumental. She was witnessing the entrance of a Greek God and she was standing here with whipped cream on her fingers and wearing.. oh god. Blake looked down at her outfit, realizing that she was wearing blue jean shorts and a cat t-shirt. She reached up, pushing her glasses back onto her face which became smudged with the whipped cream as she looked back at the young man who was now stepping out of his garage. She watched as his hands moved at the side of his jeans, wiping grease from presumably working on his car. Was this happening in slow motion? She stood motionless as he reached his hand to the back of his shirt, pulling it off smoothly. And what felt like was the world moving in slow motion started moving at an alarmingly quick speed as Blake widened her eyes, before snapping her attention back to the movers. “Please don’t drop any more of these,” Blake said protectively as she began to pick up her guitars.
When she got inside she shut the door with her foot before leaning her back against the door, dropping her guitars herself to the floor. Who was that? Blake took a moment, tapping her fingers against the wooden door before she sprung into action. Moving quickly she made her way up the stairs, tearing her hair out of the braid that it was in, and shook out her curls. She was going to take a shower, try to straighten her hair. But considering there were movers in and out of the house, she didn’t think that it would be appropriate. So instead she slipped into the closet, digging through a ton of boxes until she was able to tear out a white sundress and some of her cowboy boots. She put them both on quickly, hopping out of her room as she tried to pull her boots on, running down the stairs as quickly as she could.
She moved past a worker, who was about to take his first sip of lavender lemonade from a plastic cup, but took it from him since he hadn’t yet. Once in the kitchen, she put the lemonade in a mason jar, putting a lid on it and then wrapping a ribbon around the lid. Blake took out a floral napkin, lining a hand basket with it. She gently placed the mason jar of lemonade, before placing the blueberry shortcake into a container and placing that in as well. She took in a deep breath, looking up at the disaster that was her hair and tried to smooth her hands over it as easily as possible. With a slight grunt of disapproval, she picked up the hand basket before nervously making her way across the street.
The closer she got to him, the more she felt like she could feel her heart beating from her chest, to her throat. Everywhere. It was pulsating across her entire body. As she got closer to the garage she realized there was music playing. Oh, so that just didn’t appear because of him? ”Hi,” she said timidly, before clearing her throat. “Hi,” she said more assertively, blinking as she looked up at him, standing almost as still as a statue with her hands clasped on the basket in front of her. ” I saw you working it…” she said, widening her eyes, “The car. I saw you working on the car.” she said, feeling the blush start to rise on her cheeks. “Yeah,” he said, the smolder coming off of him so easily. “You moving in?” he questioned, which made Blake realize she should probably quit staring at his chest. “Uh…” she stuttered, staring at him for a moment before looking over her shoulder at the moving truck and then back at him again. Speechless. Say…something you moron, she thought to herself. “That’s cute,…..” he said gesturing to the basket, causing Blake to look down at the basket in her hands. Oh yeah, she’d brought something. ”….Where are you from?” he asked. “Dallas,” she said, a bit quietly, before looking back at him. ”Texas…” she said, giving a nod. “I….. “ she said, smiling at him nervously before she stepped toward him, holding the basket up. “I whipped up some blueberry shortcake and made some lavender lemonade…. But I also have mint lemonade if that sounds better,” she said, taking in a breath as she offered the basket out to him.
Blake looked down at her fingers as they held onto the basket, waiting for him to take it. Band aids. Several colored band aids. Great, now she looked like a child. Blake looked at him as he took the basket before holding her hands up slightly. “…..Guitar…” she said, giving a few nervous nods. Blake dropped her arms, putting her hands behind her back. Out of sight, out of mind. “What grade are you going to be in?” he questioned, opening the container to look at the blueberry shortcake before looking back up at her. ” I’m going to be a sophomore,” she said, realizing now how young that must make her sound. But before she could ask him what grade he was going to be in, she noticed the music coming from the radio.
“Do you like Tim McGraw?” she said, her eyes widening with excitement. “This is my favorite song,” she admitted sheepishly before looking down at her feet. “Im sure as much as Im going to like this shortcake. Want to come inside and we can share it?” Blake held her breath for a moment. “Inside? Sure. Yeah. Okay.” she said, giving a nod before she gave one final look to the garage, looking outside at the movers across the street before she followed him into the house. He was saying something about his stepmother… something about her complaining about him ruining his jeans with grease. She could offer her input. Offer to talk to his stepmother about the best way to get grease stains outs. But she didn’t feel like offering motherly advice was a sexually attractive quality right now. So instead she kept silent, moving through the house quietly until they reached the kitchen.
As he was busy getting a plate, Blake looked around the kitchen. There was a picture of a blonde girl, her long hair falling over her shoulders, and she was smiling into the camera like whoever taking the picture was the love of her life. Maybe it was a cousin. She moved across the kitchen, seeing a few more family portraits along the wall until she came to a stop. Her head tilted as she looked at a picture with the now familiar blonde’s face in it. Definitely not cousins. The neighbor, who she was just now realizing she didn’t know his name, had his arms wrapped around the blonde, who was standing on her toes to give him a kiss. Oh. She thought to herself, feeling her shoulders sort of fall. Of course he had a girlfriend. She looked over her shoulder, noticing that he was looking at her, holding up a spare fork for the shortcake. “Parker” she said, closing her eyes before she shook her head. She hadn’t introduced herself… or asked him his name. And for some reason had introduced herself by her last name. “I mean… I’m Blake Parker,” she said,.. giving the picture one last disappointing glance before making her way over to him.
That girls hair was so smooth, straight and blonde. Blake looked down at the floor, bringing her hands up self consciously to her hair and pulled it all over one shoulder, doing her best to try and condense and hide it. “Nice to meet you, Parker,” he said, finally offering her a fork. His hands looked clean. When had he washed them? Maybe when she was busy realizing that he was unattainable… like those Greek Gods. “I’m Logan,” he said, offering another one of those half smirks that she could already tell would haunt her dreams. Logan. That didn’t rhyme with anything. Damn. Blake smiled before sitting on the edge of a kitchen chair, placing her hand under her chin before looking down at the shortcake, half heartedly placing her fork into it. It was hard to fall for your Romeo when he already had a Juliette. “Why did you move here?” he asked before taking his first bite of the shortcake. Blake set her fork down, looking down at her fingertips again before looking back at him. “I’ve been writing songs since I was a little girl. Los Angeles seemed like a better place to make my name than Dallas,” she said, shrugging her shoulder slightly.
It seemed like he found the blueberry shortcake tasty enough. And she had to admit that it was slightly endearing that he drank the lemonade straight from the mason jar instead of putting it in a different glass with ice. And honestly if you asked her what the rest of the conversation was about, she wasn’t sure she could tell you. All she knew was that she was staring down at her boots, her feet swaying slightly as her ankles were crossed over one another. “……Is that your dad’s car?” he asked, making Blake look out of the kitchen window and in the same direction that he was. “Oh, it’s here,” she said with a smile on her face. Most of her friends got brand new Escalades or BMW’s for their cars. Blake had seen this one at an auction and had fallen in love. “Uh, no..” she said, giving a shake of her head. “It’s mine… It breaks down a lot…” she said with slight annoyance. But Logan was already getting up and leaving the table. “Oh,” she said, starting to follow him but then turned back to at least go place all of the dishes in the sink before she ran outside after him. They had just lowered the car into the driveway and Logan had already popped the hood and was looking down at the engine.
“ You said it needs work?” he asked, looking back up at her finally from the front of the car. Blake made a slight face, unsure if whether she was more upset because he already had a girlfriend, or the fact that he seemed to show more interest in her car than anything she had to say so far today. “uh, yeah…” she said, clapping her hands together slightly. “Sometimes it just stalls out.. which, wasn’t as big of a deal back home. But my dad is worried about it being here in the city,” she said, gesturing around them. She watched as Logan seemed to be thinking something over in his mind. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, finally lowering the hood to her car. “I’ll do work on the car in exchange for desserts,” he said. And there it was again. That sly smile that just seemed to come so easily for him. “Oh,… okay” she said, coming to the realization that these little afternoon visits may become habitual for them. Did that mean she had to bake for that long haired blonde too? Because it didn’t really seem like that girl had ever come close to a pastry. “Deal,” she said, deciding to offer him a polite smile before she put her hand out to shake his.
Just as he had taken her hand in his, an all too familiar truck pulled into the driveway. It’s entrance was met quickly by the sound of boots hitting the pavement. The disapproving scowl that followed quickly behind did not disappoint for the reputation of surly cowboys everywhere. The sound of his footsteps was permeable as Blake looked toward her father coming towards them, very aware of the fact that Logan was shirtless. “Hi daddy…” she said, pushing some of the hair from her face. “This is Logan…” she said, gesturing to the boy beside her and figuring how quickly he decided to put his shirt on would depict how the next few years of his life would go. Her father looked between the two of them, offering a grunt in a response of a greeting. “… He’s offered to help work on the car in exchange for dessert,” she said, trying to smooth over some of the tension. “I’m sure he did…” her dad stated, keeping his eyes locked on Logan. “Sweetheart, why don’t you head on inside to help unpack your mama’s fine china,” he said, abruptly dismissing her. Blake looked over at Logan, offering a slight smile. “I’ll see you around,” she said quietly, giving a slight wave before turning to run back into her house.
