sincerelyme

Why You Shouldn't Date a Musician chapter 2 I was sick of having to go to his basement every Tuesday and Friday nights. It smelled like rotting socks and joints. His friends always hit on me. Every time it was the same thing, sitting on a raggedy chair missing a leg, listening to the same songs over and over, while other people around me not in the band would sit there smoking and talking about which indie bands had deeper lyrics and the meaning of existentialism.

"My speech is on the sexual analogies of modern day high schoolers," she began, and at once fifty eight eyes shot up at her maroon lips. The professor sitting at the back of the class fidgeted with her watch at the choice of words.