{ owen -- the changes of my tide

[ramilda ulysses-jane matsen]

{ ramilda matsen tugged on the gold chain of her locket as she strolled into piece of cake bakery. she was meeting up with owen blake, this guy she'd met in her prose course. they'd had some really mad discussion not over structure and theme but just about prose, what it meant and where it was leading. this guy, owen, had totally listened to ramilda all afternoon and she had a bustling craving for some birthed from sugar macaroons, so ramilda thought nothing of inviting him to join her.

okay, that was totally a lie. she had been making mental punnett squares of them during that entire discussion. ramilda thought something of it. but, you know, he didn't have to know that. owen blake had never met, and hopefully had never heard of, ramilda matsen before, and she was seizing good advantage of this. it's not everyday that a boy came along who pulled at ramilda's heart strings for like, a full twenty minutes.

ramilda entered the bakery and was nervous to see that owen hadn't yet arrived. what if he had decided not to come? ramilda had been so secretly afraid of rejection when asking him that she hadn't even remembered if she'd slipped him her number or not. how ridiculous she was. ramilda formed attachments far too easily, and had, over one class period, formualted an eentsy beetsy crush on this strange owen guy. mostly she just wanted to jump his bones, but it really came to his beautiful and open mind that he'd so generaously shared with her (and the rest of the class.)

after ordering a plate of one of every flavor macaroon, because why not?, ramilda took a seat near the back by a window. she set the plate in the middle of the table. the macaroons made a colorful pyramid and she couldn't help but bite her lip and smile to stop from laughing at how outrageous she must have looked. but, eh, fuck em. ramilda looked outrageous ninety nine percent of the time. macaroons were nothing. unless owen didn't show up, then they became tissues for her sappy teenage girl issues...

[owen blake]

He was running late. It was the story of his life; at the top of his list of things he most wanted to improve about himself was the fact he would always leave five minutes early in order to stop being late. Some might find it casual or chic, he always found it annoying enough to construct a stupid list of things to change about himself in the first place. Sadly, it wasn't the only item. He knew he had far too much time on his hands if he was making his own lists. Being on time was right up there with 'cast friendly archetypes for film' and 'avoid evil redheads.'

And, yet, he couldn't quite get the image of the pretty, golden-haired fashionista from class. She had ideas and they weren't all dried-up and hashed out theories from old ideas. He couldn't help but get caught up in the moment as she started talking and he was quick to admit to himself that he hadn't minded her asking him out. Wasn't really a study date if they discussed ideas. Or even if he just got her talking. He wouldn't mind just sitting back and watch how animated her face got or how she seemed to sparkle. He liked that type of intensity. It was almost as attractive as the blonde hair or killer body.

He paused outside the bakery and looked inside. He'd only been in this particular bakery a few times, mostly for the scones. A good latte and a hot cinnamon scone were to die for when one was used to French pastries. He could almost taste the chocolate as the scent wafted from the shop as he tugged the door open and strolled inside. He spotted the blonde sitting by the window. Somehow, the natural light seemed to enhance her features. And sitting in front of her was a small mountain of cookies.

He couldn't help but smirk as he greeted her with, "Planning on sweetening up the whole island?"

[ramilda ulysses-jane matsen]

{ ramilda lifted her eyes to a statuesque owen blake, smirking in her direction and standing up over the table she sat it. he looked good up close. 'planning on sweetening up the whole island?' he asked through those confident smirked lips of his. ramilda laughed to herself. how embarrassing, he must think she was harboring a baby under her shirt or something, with such an affliction towards sweets. "no, silly. these are for us, duh." she looked up at him and smiled, beckoning him to sit down across from her and her pile of ridiculously bright cookies.

ramilda leaned forward, excited, as he took a seat. "so, i had a mad craving for these babies," ramilda sat with a head nod towards the plate of cookies "i call the pink one, but second choice is all on you." ramilda winked, but immediately laughed at herself after wards. god, she got so swept away, what a loser.

ramilda sipped on a cappucino she'd also picked up upon arrival as she held the bright pink macaroon in her other hand. she looked at for a second before taking a small bite out the side of it. "mmm.." she closed her eyes and moaned. "macaroons are soooo fuggin good" she added with a laugh. she set the unfinished macaroon down on the small plate her cappucino cup rested on and whipped the crumbs off her fingers using a doily napkin that was already placed on the table. this place really was frilly.

she rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward towards owen, speaking in hushed tones now. "so, i was really into all that jazz we were discussing in class today. you've got good ideas, you know. you should put them to use. i mean, i'm just saying i bet your talents could take you to, you know, new levels." ramilda added a smirk to these last words, hoping he was picking up what she was putting down.

[owen blake]

"no, silly. these are for us, duh." Owen almost laughed, instead settled down at her gracious invitation as he unzipped his jacket and slung it over the back of the booth and sat down, letting his hands fall on the shiny surface of the table. Now he realized the reason he really hadn't noticed this place other than a quick stop-by; most of the decor was just a little frilly and overdone and more his mother's style, which was so not his.

And, of course, she'd pick the pink cookie. Sure, they were all pastel colors, but he couldn't help but eye a lonely yellow cookie surrounded by pink and white. "I think I'll take this one," he replied as he picked it up and bit into it. Goodness, it was fabulous, all coconutty and delicious. He didn't partake in his sweet tooth very often, save... well, he'd think about such things later. Right now, he had his eye on something sweet and was giving her his full attention.

Then she leaned closer and talked in a hushed voice. "...i mean, i'm just saying i bet your talents could take you to, you know, new levels." He couldn't help but chuckle dryly at that. The little smirk on her face was so delicious and he could sense there was a deeper meaning behind it. "They're just words," he replied, leaning back as he popped the rest of the macaroon in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I'm more into action, myself."

It took him a full two seconds to realize what he said. He swallowed quickly and cut his eyes back to the table. Not that he didn't want any sort of action, but he had known her all of, what, one class? "More like doing actions through words," he finally said after his own awkward silence. "Good cookies."

[ramilda ulysses-jane matsen]

{ ramilda's face warmed as owen let her know that he was "more into action, himself." god, ramilda loved boys. ramilda hadn't realized that she was smiling until she forced herself to straighten out and very rock solidly nod at his "action through words." the whole reason ramilda had dragged him here was so they could talk about literature. you know, finally someone to listen to her talk about books and play writing! but, how could she have fallen for the cruel joke she'd played on herself that made her believe that if she was put across the table from an attractive and smart new guy that she'd actually settle down enough to want to discuss literature with him? sure it got her all hot and bothered, but really. now her mind was a million different places, namely on what she thought owen would look like with a shirt off.

"good cookies..." owen mentioned, interrupting ramilda's awesome run at being entirely awkward. she nodded at this, "see? i told you." ramilda hadn't actually told him. "well, you know, though my actions." ramilda raised an eyebrow at this last word and took another small bite out of her macaroon, smiling as she chewed on it. alright, baby cakes, straighten out. ramilda cleared her throat and sat up, taking yet another time stalling sip from her cappucino. "what do you even want to do with english? i don't think i ever got around to asking. like, i'm totallly feeling your whole actions through words business. i want to do children's theatre. i know... it's weird. but, i think plays are good for them! they're good for everyone. i want to write plays for kids in africa and stuff..." ramilda was rambling. she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "wow, sorry..." dude, what had gotten into her? ramilda didn't get nervous. and for the most awkward person alive, she never ever felt awkward. god she needed a bathroom make out session, pronto.

[owen blake]

It was easy to fall into a stare, seeing how animated she got when she started talking. He reached idly for another macaroon and bit through half of it, rather thankful for his good genes that he could probably put down this whole plate and not an ounce of it would show. He'd so need a jog on the beach later. Or, maybe, another extracurricular activity... he turned his attention back to her. Being an eighteen year old male, it didn't take him long to realize just how gutter-minded he could be, just by looking at the hottie sitting across the table from him. He liked girls and he liked them blonde. Not stupid blonde, but intelligent blonde and this one was... well, she was something.

"what do you even want to do with english?" she was saying, before continuing on about children's theatre and Africa and how weird it sounded. He popped the second half of the macaroon in his mouth and caught the barista's eye, waving her over to order himself a cup of caffeine. The intensity and passion behind her words belied the fact that she seemed more nervous than focused and he could get that.

"I want to write movies," he finally said, selecting a third macaroon and eying the pink sugar on top. "And then I want to direct them. There's my part in the action... at least, that action." He looked up briefly and caught a trace of her smile. God, did she have one, a simple gesture that seemed to blot out the rest of the world. Totally. Inspiring.

[ramilda ulysses-jane matsen]

{ ramilda nodded, in what she thought was a knowingly stare, but ended up looking for like wide eyed fascination. he wanted to make movies, oh my god. rich! ramilda played with the ends of her hair, twirling them in a mocking sense. "when you're a big famous director can i be your star?" she batted her eyes and pucked her lips at him, poking fun at herself. she'd be a horrible actress, flailing all over the place, making up her own renditions of the lines. that's why she wanted to do childrens' theatre. there were no rules, and nothing was serious. it was just about, you know, taking in those around you and engaging your senses.

ramilda yawned, stretching so that her black lace top rode up slightly showing just a hint of her recently tanned stomach. ha, she toootally did that on purpose. she picked up her cappuccino cup, looking into it and noting that it was empty. "hey, i think i'm going to go grab and iced tea or something." ramilda said, signaling up to the counter. "keep me company?" she smiled. god, ramilda hoped scarlett scandal was there to see her with owen fucking blake. she could see it now, all over the top of scarlett scandal's blog, ramilda matsen lands english department man candy -- all girls on campus claim to want to be 'just like her.' okay, well. ramilda had one hell of an imagination at least.

once up and in line with owen, ramilda played with her belt loops and eyed the menu hanging behind the counter, furrowing her brow and biting her lower lip, having a bit of trouble reading it. ramilda never wore her glasses. so embarrassing. then x makrs the spot, ramilda saw and open door leading to the 'family restroom.' she was willing to bet money that no one around was betting on using that one any time soon. "ah," ramilds scratched at her neck where the tag of her shirt was. "my tag is killing me, do you think you could get it?" ramilda pointed to the open family restroom door innocently. of course. she was such a coy, demure sort of girl who wouldn't even stoop so low to have her tag ripped off in public. joke.

[owen blake]

"when you're a big famous director can i be your star?" OWen had to smirk at that. Truth was, he wasn't writing people to act in his movies, but was writing his movies around the people he surrounded himself with. He didn't know Ramilda well enough to really typecast her, but he had to wonder if she didn't have the focus for acting. Childrens' theatre really seemed to suit her. Something bright, bubbly and imaginative was a bit more youthful than his grim 'nightmare from elm street' redux.

He was so lost in his thoughts that when she started stretching, his eyes were drawn to taut, tanned flesh. God, she had some curves.... he pushed the thought aside as she asking him to keep her company. Why not? It wasn't like he wanted to be anywhere else, especially since she rocked killer curves like that. Now if he could slowly check out the rest of her, standing slightly behind her as he pretended to study the menu.

"my tag is killing me, do you think you could get it?" She was pointing at the family restroom door and scratching at her neck. He should have known that she wouldn't want him to clip the tag off in full public view. He wasn't sure he wanted to be seen peeking down the back of a girl's shirt in full public view just to clip a tag, either. He shrugged casually and stepped back. "Yeah." It was good, straight-forward and not too enthusiastic. He'd rather keep it calm and collected, but he had a sense that she was up to something and he wasn't entirely sure what is was yet. He half-wondered if she knew about all the handwritten stories in that room...

[ramilda ulysses-jane matsen]

{ ramilda smiled back at owen as she led him to the family restroom. alright, it wasn't the most glamorous but you had to admit there was a certain taboo about it, which heightened her lust even more. ramilda never held back or let anything she wanted to wiggle out of her reach, including owen blake, her chosen romp of the day. "just here," ramilda said sweetly, pointing to the tag. owen brought a hand up, loyal to his word, and ramilda, whose fingers still lay on the collar of her shirt, inched her fingers closer to his, letting them brush against each other before she dropped them back to down to her waist. she played with the hem of her shirt, letting it bunch up slightly and show even a little more of her flat stomach.

ramilda spun around, mindless to whether owen and finished ripping off the tag, which, in all honesty hadn't been too annoying to begin with. her breast brushed against owen's chest, and their stomachs nearly touched as she breathed in and out. standing close to him, not budging an inch ramilda looked him up and down, hungrily. she normally wasn't so direct, but he had stirred up her passions earlier that day and her fire refused to be put out. for the day, at least. ramilda slipped a hand, beneath the hem of his shirt, letting her pinky and ring finger rest on the top of his pants, while her middle and index finger and thumb sat on the warm, supple skin across the small of his back. with this small and swift motion, she pulled him just a little closer. just enough to lean up and kiss him, pulling him towards her with only her lips and her lust.

she pulled away, maintaining eye contact with him as her lashes batted up and her eyes opened. "sorry..." she said softly, with an exhale, not really meaning it. she wasn't sorry. she wanted him to pick her up and nail her on the sink just then. god, who was she?