🌸 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 ⎯
chris sturniolo winds up
messaging a stranger without
realising his mistake and somehow
finds himself falling for her the
more they get to know one another,
their mee...
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♯ irl + social media !
♯ irl 🍒
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andrea hit play on her and rena's shared playlist and they were off, rena behind the steering wheel and drea in the passenger seat. the windows were rolled down and there was a small breeze that was flowing through their hair as they sang along to the words, not a single care about how loud they were being or anything at all, for that matter.
the sound of the neighbourhood filled their ears and probably the ears of many who were passing by the car. the music shifted between the soft and louder mediums, engulfing them in the best way possible through the heat ensnared surroundings.
rena turned to drea, smiling largely at the girl as she took in the sight of her best friend singing her heart out. andrea returned the smile with utmost ease and despite the lack of conversation, the mere presence of contentment alongside the belting of songs was enough for them to have the best time possible.
the drive to their destination was easily 20 minutes but it flew by much quicker than they had anticipated and they arrived in what felt like no time at all. they had been planning to go ceramics painting for a while now and to finally be following through with the activity was thrilling to say the least.
they stepped out of the black-coated car, the sun hitting their faces as soon as their feet hit the ground and the fresh smell of air wafting up their noses delightfully. they turned to each other with smiles once again as they comfortably walked to the entrance of the building, eyes scanning the various pieces of pottery and the painting scattered on the walls in the most beautiful of arrays, commenting on how wonderful it all looked.
they approached the front desk with nothing but pure excitement cursing through them and before they knew it, they had been assigned a room where they could sit and paint as they pleased.
