the daily grind, tag; august

[georgia reynolds]

Georgia sat at a table for two at the Daily Grind. She hadn't ordered anything yet because she was too busy concentrating on her huge dilemna. Which was the fact that she didn't look Mexican. She should have said that she was an immigrant from Iceland. Did she look Icelandic? She didn't know. But forget Iceland. Georgia had to come up with some clever story as to why she didn't look Mexican. Hm. The prince of Cancun had met her at a grand ball and whisked her away to be his princess. Was that believable? She smiled, satisfied with her story.

Leaving her jacket on the back of her chair to save the table, Georgia walked up to the counter and ordered an espresso. Returning to the chair, she contemplated how August would recognize her. Especially if he was looking for a Mexican-esque person. Hm. She couldn't think of anything, so she supposed he would have to guess.

[august hartnett]

August dressed casually, for comfort, as he almost always did. The boy would have worn jeans to his graduation were he given the option. Paying his fare as he got on to the bus, he took a seat next to the window, closer to the back of the bus. He pondered idly what she would look like. She'd said she was from Cancun, right? So she must be of mexican descent. An olive skinned beauty to make even his home a living hell. She was nice enough, from what he could tell. One thing that has never changed all through his life, is that he was intimidated by women.

With that he had convinced himself that his new room-mate was an olive-skinned beauty with dark curls and mesmerizing eyes. She'd said that her father was a chef for the Eqyptian royalty. Maybe she was a nutcase.

In any case, he'd reached his stop and alighted at fells point. He made his way over to the daily grind and stood at the door for a second. He spotted a woman sitting by the window with a duffle bag by her side, she had the olive skin he'd imagined and features that were without a doubt mexican.

He walked over and asked her in a stuttering voice "Ex-excuse me, are you Georgia?"

She politely said that she was not and that he must be mistaken. He thanked her and turned. No-one else in the cafe, looked to be of mexican descent.

[georgia reynolds]

Some guy was going around asking random women if they were Georgia. She wondered if it was August. Well, of course it was him! What were the chances that there were two guys meeting two separate Georgia's in the Daily Grind? Pretty much zero. Georgia slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses to look more like a mysterious Mexican princess. "August?" she inquired, as the boy walked past her table. He seemed nervous about this whole thing and she hoped that she hadn't made him nervous with the whole immigrant thing. If he was nervous about rooming with immigrants, she should have said that she was Egyptian royalty and her dad was the immigrant. Eh. Too late for that. The object of affection of a Mexican royal was good enough and it probably wasn't the immigrant part that was making him nervous. Maybe he was just nervous about something coming up in his future. Maybe he got nervous about decisions and couldn't decide what coffee he wanted.

[august hartnett]

He looked over to the woman that had just called his name. She didn't look mexican at all. And the dark glasses? They were inside. So no he was having second thoughts about having this person as a room-mate. She was definetely a nutcase. Did Egypt even have royalty anymore?

Quickly in his mind he started to think up ways to get her not to move in with him. He wasn't used to people who were off their rockers. All his life, he's spent with an average family, average grades and an average personality. He preffered to have an average and non-dramatic experience in Baltimore.

Plucking up his courage, he turned to face her. "I'm August Hartnett, you must be Georgia"

[georgia reynolds]

"Yes, I am," she said with a nod. He must be thinking how ever-so-mysterious she looked right now. The dark glasses were definitely adding to her overall appeal.

"Did you want to order something?" Georgia gestured to the counter, still wondering if the anxiety of choosing just one thing from the menu was the factor that was making August so incredibly nervous. "I would be more than happy to help you pick something out! I'm absolutely fabulous at picking out types of coffee from menus like this. See, I picked out my own coffee. And I would love to pick one out for my new roommate. Unless you want to pick." Oh god, what if he really wanted to pick? She didn't want to seem like she was pressuring him into doing something. No one wanted a roommate who peer pressured him or her. Oops.