Post by RACHEL on Jan 4, 2011 18:46:27 GMT -6
Oliver’s dark, stormy blue eyes continued to stare at the brightly colored alcohol bottles. He had memorized practically every recipe for every alcoholic beverage based on the color and shape of the bottle it came in. Sad, but since he was more of visual learner it had just seemed the most logical (and easiest!) way for him to learn. Oliver inhaled sharply, took a sip of his beer, and then exhaled as he swallowed. He had discovered that this was one way to kill the taste of the disgusting, wheat-y alcoholic flavor. It was that or plug his nose, but that latter was a bit of a turn off for most as it resembled a child trying to drink their icky, cherry-flavored medicine.
Drawing his attention with her frolic-y conduct, Oliver gaze drifted back to her. She had asked what he was looking at, and being the reserved archetype he was, Oliver just shrugged. He would probably seem like a total creep or weirdo if he had mentioned to her that the colored bottled that were lit up reminded him of Christmas lights. Then again, she was probably too drunk to understand let alone remember the next day what he had said. Still, it wasn’t worth taking a chance of sounding like a complete loser. “Nothin’.” He raised and lowered his shoulders quickly, hoping it was enough to suffice an answer for her. She was beginning to ask personal questions, and although Oliver was a pretty shy guy, he couldn’t help but feel that she wouldn’t even remember what he had said so it was no harm in sharing, right? Forcing an uneasy smile between his lips, Oliver remarked, “Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” He wondered if underneath her drunken escapade what her real personality was like; if she was just another one of the pretentious snobs at Norton. Then again, where he grew up he had managed to get used to all the wealth and attitudes. Los Angeles seemed to be filled to the brim with people that thought they were better than everyone else. The cars, the houses, the clothing, even the breed of your dog was important back there and Oliver just couldn’t stand it. The east coast seemed like a logical, down-to-earth option and so far it was proving to be.
“Nasty water soda?” Oliver thought to himself. “What the hell is she talking about?” He looked down at his half empty bottle. Was she referring to his beer as nasty water soda? From the looks of it, that’s what he inferred. Not wanting to create a scene, Oliver ignored her and pushed the glass towards the bartender in a sly way. “It’s Oliver,” he said quickly, hoping that this girl didn’t stick to his side the whole evening. Then again, he wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her so as much as she was irritating him, he sucked it up. “What about your’s?” he asked, and added in his brain, “if you can even think of it…”
Drawing his attention with her frolic-y conduct, Oliver gaze drifted back to her. She had asked what he was looking at, and being the reserved archetype he was, Oliver just shrugged. He would probably seem like a total creep or weirdo if he had mentioned to her that the colored bottled that were lit up reminded him of Christmas lights. Then again, she was probably too drunk to understand let alone remember the next day what he had said. Still, it wasn’t worth taking a chance of sounding like a complete loser. “Nothin’.” He raised and lowered his shoulders quickly, hoping it was enough to suffice an answer for her. She was beginning to ask personal questions, and although Oliver was a pretty shy guy, he couldn’t help but feel that she wouldn’t even remember what he had said so it was no harm in sharing, right? Forcing an uneasy smile between his lips, Oliver remarked, “Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” He wondered if underneath her drunken escapade what her real personality was like; if she was just another one of the pretentious snobs at Norton. Then again, where he grew up he had managed to get used to all the wealth and attitudes. Los Angeles seemed to be filled to the brim with people that thought they were better than everyone else. The cars, the houses, the clothing, even the breed of your dog was important back there and Oliver just couldn’t stand it. The east coast seemed like a logical, down-to-earth option and so far it was proving to be.
“Nasty water soda?” Oliver thought to himself. “What the hell is she talking about?” He looked down at his half empty bottle. Was she referring to his beer as nasty water soda? From the looks of it, that’s what he inferred. Not wanting to create a scene, Oliver ignored her and pushed the glass towards the bartender in a sly way. “It’s Oliver,” he said quickly, hoping that this girl didn’t stick to his side the whole evening. Then again, he wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her so as much as she was irritating him, he sucked it up. “What about your’s?” he asked, and added in his brain, “if you can even think of it…”