Abby let her fake smile drop as the door clicked shut behind her. Angrily pulling the pins from her hair and throwing them vaguely towards her room, she stalked towards the kitchen, her heels click-clacking on the linoleum. She didn't care. No one would be here right now to wake up anyway, but they had left the lights on for her. Sighing, she ran a slender hand through her loose locks and leaned against the counter to undo the straps on her stilettos, being careful so she wouldn't crinkle the expensive scarlet dress she'd bought (and planned on returning to the store) for the event.

"Charity Ball didn't go so well, huh?"

Abby's head snapped up in alarm before she met familiar blue eyes from across the room and relaxed, allowing a lazy grin to seep across her tired features. "Oh, the dance was fine," she started with false cheerfulness. Then her eyes flamed and her tone became dangerous. "It was the date that was a bust."

Hoagie 'hmm'd in understanding as her shoes dropped to the floor and she rubbed her sore feet, placing them gently on the cool tile. "He got gropey, huh?" He shifted uncomfortably at his own words against the pantry door, but he wanted to know if he should get his hands on this guy (Bryan? Mark? Anthony?) and threaten to strangle him with his own intestines should he ever touch her inappropriately again. She rolled her eyes fondly at him before she eased herself onto one of the barstools and propped her head up with her hand, elbow digging into the marble as she grinned.

"Nah, he was boring as a sloth and twice as slow." She frowned, contemplating for a moment. "Matter of fact, if he had gotten touchy-feely, at least it would'a made the night interestin'."

Hoagie made a face. "Are you seriously saying that you would rather have been felt up by some guy your dad set you up with than to listen to said guy speak?"

There was an embarrassed silence. "…It sounds so-" she paused, looking for the word she wanted.


"-skanky when you say it like that." She chewed her lip as her stomach growled like a rabid dog. She wrapped her arms around her midsection as he chuckled and checked his watch.

"Well, it's not quite a midnight snack if it's actually two in the morning, but," his eyes twinkled mischievously over the tops of his glasses at her. "I think I'll make an exception. One late night feast, Gilligan Style, coming right up." He pushed away from the door and began to rummage through the pantry as she smiled thankfully at his back.

"You're a lifesaver, Hoags. A sliver of chicken and one green bean is not dinner; I don't care what high society says." Sliding from her perch, she strode to him, pecked his cheek gratefully and made a beeline for her room, telling him that she'd change and be right back. He watched her go and raised a hand to his face, allowing a victorious smirk to tug at his mouth.

Well. That was...random and sorta stupid. Badly written, too. Ah well. And it all started because my tummy rumbled twenty minutes ago.

On another note, I'm in way over my head here. Therefore, I'm extending the due date for my contest to September 30th.

Also, you ever order something online, then run out and check the mailbox every day, only to be disappointed? Yeah, that's my life right now. Sad, ain't it?

So make me happy while I wait for my soundtracks and drop me a review! (Sorry I haven't been replying to past reviews. I mean to, but after I check them, I forget to respond right away. I'll reply this time! Hopefully...)

Love always,