ace-omalley:
iamthefirechild:
By the time the sun went down, Summer had actually forgotten her resolution to go talk to her neighbour. The apartment was still fairly hot, and stray wisps of red hair stuck to the back of her neck. But she had turned her music up loud, ensconced herself crosslegged on the floor, and dragged out her jewellery-making gear. Now she sang happily along as clever hands constructed a shining necklace out of the rainbow piles of gemstone chips in front of her.
As did Ace.
The curls that once loosely adorned the top and sides of his head, that kicked back wildly just at the nape of his neck looked drenched from where they lay matted against his pale skin.
But, when he walked past the open door, flinching as the volume to her otherwise tolerable music heightened, cold gaze fixated on her rather curiously as she settled on her floor.
The lad just couldn’t not look on as she began to sing, fingers working nimbly as she began to fashion a necklace from her little kit.
He decided to cop a squat on his own rather mucky wood floors, legs kicked out in front of him, his curious gaze never wavering, not even for a second.
She finished two throat-hugging necklaces before she surfaced enough from her concentration to be aware of him. Flexing her fingers and easing out the cramps from the finicky work, she glanced sidewise at him, not picking up on the next song. “I can feel you watching me,” she said, instead, and unwound herself to turn the music down. “Am I too loud?” Setting her hands on her hips, Summer turned to look at her neighbour fully, and hoped he couldn’t see the slight shock that went through her.
Damn, he was hot. And not just in the literal sense — in the ‘wow I wish I could get with that’ kind of way. Long practise kept the awareness of it off her face, but she just knew that feeling was going to make things frustrating and awkward for her. It always did.
