Thread: Going Down? (Traveler & Charlotte)

Well, would you look at that. It was apparently one of those days. Olive hoped there would be something pleasant to balance out the scales of her day. In truth, Vanessa wasnt a terrible person. Not that Olive knew her personally or really by any means the blonde just wasnt interested in associating with people who drained her. Not unless she got paid for doing so. But that was a point better brushed on later, right then shed spotted her dashing upstairs neighbor and her heart went a pitter-patter all over the place. It wasnt a crush. Olive Dallas did not have crushes. Not since the tenth grade. Not since Eric Palmer thought it would be cute to pluck on her bra strap persistently from the seat he held behind her during world history. Not since shed had enough of it, turned around and smacked him. Not since she got called to the deans office to explain, her father having thrown so many obscenities at the boy in question and the dean that her mother had to glare him into a silent submission while Olive laughed at the absurdity. Not since her father said that he was proud of her for having the patience, and then defended herself when that hadn't worked. Not since he told her that boys werent worth it. And not since she agreed. This wasnt a crush. Men ordinarily just looked like that when they walked towards her. The sun was streaming into the building, it was backlighting the familiar form. There was nothing magical about this. All regular things. That smile, the devilish charm and the way she couldve sworn he looked visibly happy to see her. Not a crush. Hi, the woman greeted with a warm, already slightly flustered smile. She fussed with her hair with her free hand, smoothing and curling it with her fingers until it was back in place in response to his comment. The laugh that accompanied the gesture proved she hadnt been offended, just mildly embarrassed. Coming Im coming. The woman fumbled, her grip on her case tightening as she mentally slapped herself for the poor phrasing. Im going up, I mean. She tried to salvage, unable to keep her eyes from rolling exasperatedly up into the ceiling of the elevator. Olive never had this much trouble just fucking talking to another person. Once more for those in back. Not a crush . Olive shook her head briefly and tried to laugh away her sudden discomfort, stepping to the side a bit in order to offer him space. Like she was somehow taking up all the goddamned space in one elevator. But her laugh, at least, was genuinely easy. She knew she was a mess, and knew in all likelihood that it brightened her neighbors brief journey to his apartment. Or so she hoped, anyway. So she told herself. To ease the crushing shame thatd otherwise drown her later on. She waited and watched as the man stepped into the elevator, careful not to let her eyes stray too long on his suit or get caught admiring the form underneath. Didnt Olive have to get her mail? Yes. But it made total sense to go up, drop her things off, then return to the lobby than it did just to get the mail right then, didnt it? No? Well, fuck it. Because handsome-neighbor was in play and he changed the priorities and rules of ease. The door shut closed and she sighed softly, allowing herself a moment of tranquility with good-looking company. When she opened her eyes, she found the reflection of her riding buddy looking at her through the shiny surface of the elevator doors. She chuckled as their eyes met, the corner of her lips pulling into a pleasant half-smile. Its been a long day, again.. she spilled, admiring the two of them quietly in the parallel-world of elevator land. Where both of them rode up to the same apartment and the distance wasnt so far away. She probably didnt match, though. He likely saw a better suited reflection all the time. One with his high-end, lavish girlfriend tucked into his side. Not Olive, standing a few feet away. Standing at a striking 54, too-pale skin and almost silver hair. The seam of the doors separated their images. Olive, with her shitty car, check-by-check lifestyle, who only splurged a couple times a month and rarely enough to cause a real dent in her bank account. Standing next to nameless-overly-hunky neighbor. He probably sat by fireplace, read a book with his money-bunny in his lap. Sipping idly at expensive alcoholic drinks. Talked about stocks and bonds with his pals from some country club or something. Was that still a thing? It was under a year ago that she was finding walk-of-shamers in that very elevator, so that probably didnt help dismiss the image of swanky playboy in her head. Plus, it was fun. Shed never really know what his story was. This would do. How about you? the blonde nodded after a moment, still talking to him via-reflection rather than in person. Lord knew the kind of fucking mess shed make if she attempted to speak directly to him. Luckily for her, her expertly-applied makeup hid any trace of the blush thatd flooded her face. All she had to do was keep her voice from cracking. She just had to keep it together for two floors. Two floors. Riding along with her crush. God help her.