Post by kate erin harrison on Aug 1, 2012 14:27:25 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]i'm a real good friend.[/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;] [/style][STYLE=background-image: url(); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443]Kate Harrison was not a happy bunny this morning. With a face like thunder, she wasn't even going to turn up to the country club today. In fact, what she really wanted to do was to burrow under her duvets at home and never come out again. Ever. The morning was beautiful though; the sky was bright blue and clear from clouds, the sun high in the sky and it felt nice on her exposed skin. Pulling up to the club in her battered old VW Beetle, the red paint was starting to peel and there was a number of dents in the body work. Not caused by her, obviously but the previous owner. It looked horrifically out of place next to the pristine BMWs, Mercedes and Audis that had all been professionally cleaned. Slamming the door, she slid her key in and locked it because her car didn't have this fancy central locking systems or even power steering. Walking around the back of her car to the trunk, she had to jiggle the handle around and yank it open before rummaging to pull out her sports bag and her tennis racquet before slamming it shut and storming into the country club. Kate's long blond hair was tied back into a neat albeit severe ponytail at the base of her neck, all stray hairs neatly clipped back with a hairpin. The tall girl was dressed in traditional tennis whites consisting of a pair of expensive white sneakers, a sleeveless vest and a super short white gym skirt that revealed all of her long, toned legs. After what happened with Logeun, she'd tried to calm down. She'd put on her meditation CD, lit some candles and joss sticks, got out her yoga mat and tried to chill out. Of course, she'd been too worked up to get the full effect and she'd had a restless night with little to no sleep and so she'd done the only thing she knew that would help; hitting tennis balls at Troy Miller's lovely, perfect face. Dipping into the country club, her big green eyes looked around, landing on a few familiar faces and she offered a polite smile and a nod to some of the members. Most of them here were actually the parents of a number of the students in school, namely the Royals. She recognised a few but she just offered a "good morning" and breezed right by, shifting her bag and gripping the handle to her tennis racquet so tight that her knuckles turned white. She needed to chill. Meandering through the place, Troy's coach stopped her. Phillip was a handsome man; tanned, chiselled face and late twenties. He was taller and more imposing than Kate and he was popular with the ladies. As he stood there, a few of the older ladies stared at him, one or two giggling and one going as far to wink at the poor man. " Hey Katie," |
The money had persuaded her to help Mr. Miller out. Kate was the best under 25 tennis player in Ocean City and apparently, the only one willing to work the taller boy harder. Phillip had asked a few older boys but they'd all declined, saying that they didn't want to deal with the verbal abuse they got when they beat him because apparently, Troy was a terrible loser.
Kate didn't back down from a challenge. She knew that Troy was better than her, a more accomplished player but not a lot, she could keep pace and give a bloody good challenge. Popping the cap off her bottle, she took a long swing and swallowed, shrugging off her jacket to show a pair of long arms and freckled shoulder blades. Unzipping her racquet, she held it in her left hand and she grabbed her tube of tennis balls. Popping off the cap, she took three balls, shoving two of them into the pockets of her short skirt before absently tossing one up in the air and expertly catching it.
She walked to the net and backed up a little, taking a deep breath as she pursed her lips before nodding her head a little. It was a little after ten thirty in the morning so the club wasn't full, it was mainly older ladies wanting to get in some morning aerobics. With her racquet in her left hand, she swung it back, tossing the ball high into the air before putting all of her strength into the swing and catapulting the ball across the net with such force that it actually made a loud clunk when it collided with the netting around the edges of the court. So much so that a few people actually stopped to stare at her. She was eighteen but she had a ninety miles per hour serve.
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words[/color] 863
music[/color] "Lemon" - U2
notes[/color] I hope this is okay! <3333[/style]
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