Author's Note: Those of you who also read 'This Is Who I Am' I'm having a terrible case of writer's block with it and am trying to write the next chapter.
Those who are here for this story, be forewarned: I WROTE THIS IN A FIT OF INSANITY. Also, there is a ridiculous amount of swearing. Mostly the f-bomb. Now you can't say I didn't warn you. Um. Enjoy?

I was calmly minding my own business at the grocery store when, out of fuckin' nowhere, some asshat slaps my ass. I whip around, just about spitting poison, to find this probably 6'4", huge, buff dude, with a jughead and a bad haircut standing behind me with a shit-eating grin on his face. One that drops off his face as soon as he gets a look at mine.

"Holy shit! You're a not a chick?" Jughead exclaims, I shoot him my best death glare before answering.
"No. I'm not a fucking chick. I have a penis." I tell him, clenching my fists. My nails bite into the palms of my hands. I cannot punch this 300 pound frat boy. He will beat the ever-loving shit out of me. I'm not exactly very big. Okay, actually most people would classify me in the 'small' category. "Also, fuck off. Who grabs people's asses in the grocery store?"

Jughead stares at me. I flip him off and return to looking for my cereal. He must not be used to skinny blonde dudes who are 5'4" and three quarters giving him shit. Jughead has got to be a full foot taller than me. I grab the biggest box of Froot Loops the store carries and tuck it under my arm. I fucking love Froot Loops.

I leave the aisle with my cereal and head towards the cookies. I like cookies.

I grab a package of double-stuff Oreos off the shelf and then walk towards the back of the store, in search of a gallon of skim milk. I get my milk, and carry all my shit to the speedy check-out lanes. There's a slightly pudgy girl in front of me buying fruit. Bright purple shirt. I set my Froot Loops, Oreos and milk on the moving belt thingy, and grab four boxes of Nerds. I eat so fucking healthy. To top it off, I get a root beer from the little cooler. A&W root beer, oh yes.

The cashier stares at my purchases as he rings them up.

"I have a huge sweet tooth." I tell him calmly, he nods. I pay for my food and

leave the store, plastic bag of deliciousness in hand. I am going to take the bus back to my apartment and then maybe I will watch some crappy TV. And have a huge bowl of Froot Loops. Yup.

I hate the bus. Screw public transportation. It's fucking packed. There's one open seat. Two, actually. I sit near the window.

There is one stop before my stop. The bus rolls to a halt, and several people board. The first one is a skinny guy with extremely wild, curly orange hair. It looks dyed. But he has freckles. Maybe it's natural...anyways. He's fucking adorable. Honestly. FUCKING ADORABLE. Big, dark blue eyes. I didn't even know dark blue eyes existed. Those cheekbones are killing me. I want to touch his hair. It's so pretty. I have a huge weakness for redheads. Well, his hair is more orange. But whatever.

For the love of Batman. He just walked up the aisle and sat down next to me.

I look awful. I didn't brush my hair, I'm wearing this old, too small Green Lantern shirt

with several holes, and a pair of equally old (and bleach stained) black sweatpants. They're not too small. They're very baggy.

On the contrary, Sexy Ginger looks like he stepped off the runway. He's tall and willowy. He's wearing a blue and green plaid button up with a neat black vest. And faded blue skinny jeans. They're so tight. He has really fucking nice ankles. His jeans are cuffed right above his really fucking nice ankles. Like high waters or whatever, which I usually hate because people who wear high waters tend to have cankles. I hate cankles. But his ankles are beautiful. Delicate, almost.

I should say something instead of just staring at his ankles. I glance at his face out of the corner of my eye, only to realize he's staring at me. We make eye contact for a moment, but I immediately look down at my plastic bag of groceries. Fuck, I'm blushing. Blushing is not a good look for me. Not when I'm this pale. My ears are probably bright red now too. At least my hair covers them for the most part. I need a haircut. Maybe not. I like Kurt Cobain, and right now I'm rocking his grunge-style messy blonde hair. But I'm not very grunge. More just 'comic book nerd who forgot to brush his hair this morning'.

"Um, I'm Elvis." He says. "I, uh, noticed we were checking each other out and I thought maybe I should introduce myself."

My mouth drops open. He did NOT just say that. Who says that? Like that? So bluntly?

Elvis notices my look and backpedals frantically. "Oh, shit, if you weren't and I was just imagining it-"

"No, no, nonononono. I'm Alexis." I tell him, clutching my bag of groceries.

"Phew. I was afraid for a second that you were just looking out the opposite window or something and I only thought you were looking at me." Elvis says, scratching his head.

"There's nothing to look at outside that's as nice as you." HOLY MOTHER OF THOR I JUST FUCKING SAID THAT OUT LOUD. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Elvis giggles like a schoolgirl. I blush. My face feels like someone took a flamethrower to it. I bury my head in my hands.

Elvis stifles his giggles long enough to say "Why, thank you."

The bus grinds to a stop. I look at him. "Um, this is my stop." But before I get up, I impulsively seize his hand and get a pen out of my pocket. AND I WROTE MY FUCKING NUMBER ON HIS FUCKING HAND. Elvis grins delightedly, and stands to let me out.

"I'll call you, okay?" He says, and I blush again. Geez, I've been doing that a lot today.

"Okay." Then I take my Froot Loops and whatnot and get off the bus. Elvis waves at me from the window as I walk towards my apartment building. I wave back.

Then I go right the fuck up the sidewalk into my apartment building and right the fuck up the stairs to my apartment. I like the word 'fuck' way too fucking much. OH FUCKING WELL.

I open the door and go inside. It looks the same as when I left, unsurprisingly. Like a pigsty. Pizza boxes, clothes, cat hair, sketchbooks and random drawings on scrap paper, and dozens and dozens of pens and pencils.

My two cats are named Batman and Robin. Robin is the little striped one, and Batman is the slightly larger all black one. They're very sweet. Except they shed.

I put away my Oreos and set my Nerds on the counter. Then I get out a bowl and a spoon and pour myself a huge bowl of Froot Loops. Yum.

My cell phone is sitting on the table where I left before setting off to the store. I sit down at the table with my Froot Loops and start shoveling cereal into my mouth with my right hand, and doodling with my left hand. I am far from ambidextrous, so it takes ages to get Froot Loops onto the spoon and then I end up spilling most of them on the table and back into the bowl and basically anywhere except my mouth. I'm doodling Elvis. His curls aren't wild enough so I erase a little of his hair and draw them messier. That's better. But I can't get his chin to look quite right. It's too square, it's too round, it's too pointy.

Fine. I go with some sort of compromise between the two 'too round too pointy'. It still doesn't look right, but I can't fix it right now. I stop doodling and finish my Froot Loops with my left hand. Now I can get more than three pieces of cereal into my mouth at a time.

I dump my bowl in the sink and pick up the envelope with the drawing of Elvis. I pick up a sketchbook and two pencils as well, and go sit on my couch to draw for a while.