Member No.: 13
Joined: 18-July 06
Summary: He never thought he'd see her again. Not in a million years. Maybe, when they were old and married to other people... but not this soon.
New York City, late 2004
“Mom, where do you want this box?” Shawn Spencer shouted, setting the cardboard box down on the kitchen counter briefly.
“What does it say on the front?” Claire West – formerly known as Claire Spencer – shouted, from somewhere within the apartment’s depths. It seemed like she might have been in the bedroom.
“Um… living room…” He shrugged. “So I guess it goes in the… living room?”
“And I thought you were just a pretty face,” Claire replied.
He had opened the box on the coffee table in the living room and started unpacking lamps when he heard the tapping of feet on the stairs in the hall outside. The person – whoever they were – stopped on that floor.
If there was one thing Shawn had noticed about this apartment building (and all of New York City, really) was that nobody used stairs. Every living person, man, woman, and child, used the thousands of elevators.
Deciding that whoever was on the stairs was obviously worth meeting, he stuck his head out door. The only person in the hallway was a brunette in her early twenties. She had large headphones on, connected to her MP3 player, the kind that block out noise to make the music better, and she was strolling leisurely down the corridor, her hands shoved into her pockets.
He couldn’t tell with her back to him whether she was pretty, but she had very nice hair. Longish, sort of wavy, a dark brown, and shiny.
She stopped across the hall six doors down and began fishing around in her bag for her keys. Shawn took the opportunity and jogged down to her. The girl looked up at him, somewhat confused. She was pretty, just not in the usual way. Like a girl out of a forties movie, with fair skin, pink cheeks, and big, hazel eyes.
“Hi.” He grinned widely. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at him as if he were crazy. “You have to take off your headphones,” he stated slowly, pointing to his head.
“Oh! Right!” She smiled sheepishly and pulled the headphones down around her neck. He could hear what sounded like Abba filtering through them. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget I have them on.”
“It’s okay. Is that Abba?”
“Um…” She bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, actually. It is.”
“Cool.” Shawn nodded awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Are you new in the building?” the girl asked, watching him intently.
“Actually, my mom is. I’m helping her move in. And I’ll probably stay with her for a couple of months.”
“Oh, really? Where are you guys from?”
“Long way off…” She smiled, holding out her hand. “I’m Rosemary Wilder.”
“Nice to meet you, Rosie. I’m Shawn Spencer.” He grinned back and shook her hand.
“I’ve always wanted someone to call me Rosie,” she admitted, her cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink. “Most people just call me Rose.”
“You’re Rosie, like your rosy cheeks,” Shawn stated proudly. Her cheeks got a little brighter again. “So where are you from, Rosie Wilder? Have you always lived in the city?”
“No.” Rosie smiled fondly. “I’m originally from Maine. And then Florida. And after I graduated from college, I ended up… here.” She started to insert her key into the hole. “Do you and your mom want to come over for dinner tonight? I know you guys probably aren’t settled, and some of my cooking has to be better than some of the restaurants you could find around here.”
“That’s so nice!” He beamed. “Of course we’ll come! Just give me a time, and we’ll be there.”
“Does six-thirty work?”
“Sure. We’ll see you then.” He gave her a quick grin before running back to his mother’s apartment. “Hey, Mom! How’d you like to meet one of your neighbors?”
So... let me know what you think. I'd really like to gauge whether this is something I could run with. I have other chapter ready to go, as well.