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Naomi was a teenage girl. An obvious statement to most, but she always tried her best not to act like one. At least not the typical image associated with teenage girls. Giggling and obsessing over lipstick and terrible literature.

But there was one part of the teenage experience that, unfortunately, Naomi couldn't avoid. Infatuation. Annoying crushes that she didn't want nor need, but they were certainly there. Looming and waiting to catch her off-guard when some pretty, charming guy asked for help on some Math work. In this case, it was Paris Ardennes. It had just... happened. One moment they'd been discussing calculus and the next they were set to meet in a coffee shop.

Which was where she was now. Sitting in a coffee shop called 'One Of A Grind,' waiting for Paris to show up. How had this happened? Oh, right. He was charming and not a moron. Also pretty. Very pretty. ...Not that Naomi was that shallow, of course. But she'd checked around a little to make sure she wasn't walking into anything horrible, and by all accounts Paris seemed to be normal. No inclinations to go to loud parties, consume chemicals or hump anything that moves. The closest thing she'd heard to negative was that he was very religious, but she could handle that.

Naomi sipped her coffee and flicked through the book she was reading, A Clockwork Orange. It was one she enjoyed immensely. She'd read it before, but she hadn't wanted to bring anything new. If it was a good book, she would have difficulty putting it down during this date, and if it was terrible she'd be bored until the date started.

Plus, reading something that was a piece of iconic literature (okay, the film was probably more iconic, but she preferred the source material) was a lot better than reading the latest story about a soppy and/or creepy romance with a mythological being. Made her look more intelligent, because she was. And if she had to have these ridiculous crushes, then she at least wanted to make a good impression on them.

Naomi sat there, holding the book with one hand and turning to the page where they started the treatments, all the while trying to maintain a picture of detached coolness. The only nervous tic she was displaying was that her other hand was absently fiddling with an empty sugar packet.
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Beware Of The Boys · Memories (The Past)