[ hamletfactory ]
An untamed enigma is this boy of John who so eagerly wishes to stay out and away from their family-owned garage long enough for his father’s anger to fizzle out —— and for the most part, he trusts menial tasks to keep him out and about for as long as he could accrue items for a select few. Get Stephen’s controller from Jack, run to Stephen’s, check on Sam and avoid John.
Step one of very many tasks initiates with a ring, a private cough of nerves as though someone would tattle that he’s not working on a prized Chrysler with his father barking commands at him in the most disappointed voice he’ll ever hear of.
Still imagine his surprise when he comes to find her instead of Jack once the door creaks open, vivid absinthe oculi widening in almost comical shock because when Jack said yeah, someone will be there, Dean had expected Jack and not her.
He says instead of whatever other intelligent remark he could have uttered, tongue tied like a cherry stem at a bar by a virgin tempted to get laid. He balks.
The young heiress from across the pond could only find amusement within the other’s surprise, a smirk of sorts playing upon gently stained lips. She has seen him around— a proper introduction never truly conducted, a matter of which she’ll bring up to her charming Jack later. For now, the girl was pressed for time. Her haste one she’ll apologise for once she’s passed the awkwardness that’s threatened to make her blush a pretty pink.
She could only imagine what an impression this must be.
❝What? Seeing a girl in her intimates somethin’ foreign to you?❞
She was going to hide her embarrassment. Or make an attempt. A lady should never be seen under such lacking circumstances; it was improper, an act of insolence that would have her mother most displeased.
Slender digits rise to curl an auburn lock behind her ear, expectation burning a fire within russet depths.
Was he always so tongue-tied?