Romance? Not Really...
Today's prompt is "red", more than likely because Valentine's Day is just around the corner. (By the way, in case you missed yesterdayPrince Charming's Search is officially available Friday, but you can start ordering today!)I didn't particularly feel like writing something mushy-gushy, Valentine-y for the prompt. So I started thinking about red. As a color it's intense and vibrant, being linked to a wide array of human emotions. There's an awful lot you can do with red, but if you do too much it can be overwhelming. So I thought I'd make red more of an accessory (kind of literally) in this story. Next week I'll be writing based on the prompt "landscape". For now enjoy a "red" story...
She wrapped the scarf about her neck, almost as an afterthought, as she opened the door to go outside. As she locked her apartment door behind herself, fluffy snowflakes kissed the crimson wool of her scarf. It stood out against her charcoal coat and the cascading, dark brown curls spilling from beneath a maroon beret. Snug in her winter wear, she began walking across the street and through the campus grounds to class. The warmth of the color seemed to add to the scarf's efficiency, keeping her cozy and comfortable. She walked at a calm pace. It wasn't far to the building and she had time enough to get there. No sense rushing when it was so peaceful out.
Haphazardly pulling on a scarlet sweatshirt, the young man grabbed his backpack before sprinting from the dorms. He'd lost track of time again and knew that this time the professor would dock points from his grade if he came in late. He was already sitting at a C and couldn't afford to lose more points. Ignoring the cold, he continued running until he reached the building.
He took the stairs two at a time, panting when he reached the top. But he didn't pause for breath. Speed-walking, he saw a girl with a red scarf ahead of him walking slowly. He could see an open folder poking out from the sides and could tell her attention was on organizing its contents. Desperate to be on time, he tried to move around her, but misjudged the distance. He knocked her arm, scattering her papers across the floor.
"Hey, watch it!" The girl bent to start picking up the folder.
"Well next time don't be so slow," he retorted, continuing to the classroom. There were a couple minutes to spare. He thought about the irritating girl outside who was probably going to be late. His grandmother would have tanned his hide if she'd seen his behavior. For a moment he debated going out to help. It was his fault, but he also knew the bell would ring soon.
He didn't have the chance to go out. Just as the bell rang, the girl rushed inside, her crimson scarf sliding down her shoulder and a mess of papers in her arms. She saw him looking at her and glared back before taking her seat near the front of the room.
As the professor started class, he watched the girl reorganize her folder. Her hands worked quickly, bright red nails popping out against the white sheets of paper. He felt bad for making her late and messing up her folder. He decided to apologize after class.
Once her papers were reorganized, the young woman took out her notebook and began taking notes. She was glad this professor typically did not start his lectures right away. It had given her time to clean up the mess caused by that scruffy moron. The fact that he hadn't bothered to help, hadn't even had the decency to apologize, infuriated her. But she tried to keep her attention on class and not on the guy in the red sweatshirt.
When the lecture was finished, the professor asked them to turn in their assignments. She took the maroon folder to the basket at the front of the room before going back to her seat to gather her things.
AS she was tying the crimson scarf about her neck, the guy who'd knocked her over walked up. She scowled, "What do you want?"
"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," he began. "I've been late a few too many times as is and can't afford to lose any more points. This class is hard enough, right?"
Her expression didn't change much as she shrugged. "Whatever. Nothing was lost so don't worry about it."
"I should still apologize. It was rude of me not to help."
"Really, it's no big deal."
"Is there a way for me to make it up to you?"
She eyed him curiously. "What did you have in mind?"
"Coffee in the library?"
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Make it a cocoa and you've got a deal."
They started outside silently. Flurries clung to the scarlet sweatshirt and charcoal coat. "I don't think we've really met before. My name's Greg."
"I'm Ruby," she smiled, the wind playing with the ends of her crimson scarf.
She wrapped the scarf about her neck, almost as an afterthought, as she opened the door to go outside. As she locked her apartment door behind herself, fluffy snowflakes kissed the crimson wool of her scarf. It stood out against her charcoal coat and the cascading, dark brown curls spilling from beneath a maroon beret. Snug in her winter wear, she began walking across the street and through the campus grounds to class. The warmth of the color seemed to add to the scarf's efficiency, keeping her cozy and comfortable. She walked at a calm pace. It wasn't far to the building and she had time enough to get there. No sense rushing when it was so peaceful out.
Haphazardly pulling on a scarlet sweatshirt, the young man grabbed his backpack before sprinting from the dorms. He'd lost track of time again and knew that this time the professor would dock points from his grade if he came in late. He was already sitting at a C and couldn't afford to lose more points. Ignoring the cold, he continued running until he reached the building.
He took the stairs two at a time, panting when he reached the top. But he didn't pause for breath. Speed-walking, he saw a girl with a red scarf ahead of him walking slowly. He could see an open folder poking out from the sides and could tell her attention was on organizing its contents. Desperate to be on time, he tried to move around her, but misjudged the distance. He knocked her arm, scattering her papers across the floor.
"Hey, watch it!" The girl bent to start picking up the folder.
"Well next time don't be so slow," he retorted, continuing to the classroom. There were a couple minutes to spare. He thought about the irritating girl outside who was probably going to be late. His grandmother would have tanned his hide if she'd seen his behavior. For a moment he debated going out to help. It was his fault, but he also knew the bell would ring soon.
He didn't have the chance to go out. Just as the bell rang, the girl rushed inside, her crimson scarf sliding down her shoulder and a mess of papers in her arms. She saw him looking at her and glared back before taking her seat near the front of the room.
As the professor started class, he watched the girl reorganize her folder. Her hands worked quickly, bright red nails popping out against the white sheets of paper. He felt bad for making her late and messing up her folder. He decided to apologize after class.
Once her papers were reorganized, the young woman took out her notebook and began taking notes. She was glad this professor typically did not start his lectures right away. It had given her time to clean up the mess caused by that scruffy moron. The fact that he hadn't bothered to help, hadn't even had the decency to apologize, infuriated her. But she tried to keep her attention on class and not on the guy in the red sweatshirt.
When the lecture was finished, the professor asked them to turn in their assignments. She took the maroon folder to the basket at the front of the room before going back to her seat to gather her things.
AS she was tying the crimson scarf about her neck, the guy who'd knocked her over walked up. She scowled, "What do you want?"
"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," he began. "I've been late a few too many times as is and can't afford to lose any more points. This class is hard enough, right?"
Her expression didn't change much as she shrugged. "Whatever. Nothing was lost so don't worry about it."
"I should still apologize. It was rude of me not to help."
"Really, it's no big deal."
"Is there a way for me to make it up to you?"
She eyed him curiously. "What did you have in mind?"
"Coffee in the library?"
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Make it a cocoa and you've got a deal."
They started outside silently. Flurries clung to the scarlet sweatshirt and charcoal coat. "I don't think we've really met before. My name's Greg."
"I'm Ruby," she smiled, the wind playing with the ends of her crimson scarf.
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