Post by Ryan Evans on Oct 15, 2007 23:02:30 GMT -5
Ryan had decided to call it an early night, especially after he heard that the Evans' suite was going to be filled with girls, an opportunity he would have leapt at even two weeks ago.
He sighed happily, he was a commited man, or boy rather considering he had shaved his beard off quite willingly that very morning, knowing that his facial hair meant so much more now, and he was going to be the most clean shaven guy in all over Albuquerque so as not to seem presumptuous.
As he heard the first guests arrive, he walked over to his door and locked it, and then went over to the connecting door, locking and propping a chair up. The last time he had neglected to do so and had woken up covered in make-up.
He slumped onto his bed softly, placing his Ipod ear buds into his ears as the sounds of Michael Buble washed over him, singing the words softly in his head.
You're a falling star, You're the get away car.
You're the line in the sand when I go too far.
You're the swimming pool, on an August day.
And you're the perfect thing to say.
He leaned over onto his stomach, giving one last peak at the door, his eyes catching the floor as he noticed a spiral notebook lying their abandoned.
Maybe it's time to start keeping a journal, He thought as he rolled back over, his eyes closing with a smile on his face.
He sighed happily, he was a commited man, or boy rather considering he had shaved his beard off quite willingly that very morning, knowing that his facial hair meant so much more now, and he was going to be the most clean shaven guy in all over Albuquerque so as not to seem presumptuous.
As he heard the first guests arrive, he walked over to his door and locked it, and then went over to the connecting door, locking and propping a chair up. The last time he had neglected to do so and had woken up covered in make-up.
He slumped onto his bed softly, placing his Ipod ear buds into his ears as the sounds of Michael Buble washed over him, singing the words softly in his head.
You're a falling star, You're the get away car.
You're the line in the sand when I go too far.
You're the swimming pool, on an August day.
And you're the perfect thing to say.
He leaned over onto his stomach, giving one last peak at the door, his eyes catching the floor as he noticed a spiral notebook lying their abandoned.
Maybe it's time to start keeping a journal, He thought as he rolled back over, his eyes closing with a smile on his face.
