I am...posting again? + Freewrite/short!

I do believe I'm getting back into this blogging thing. This is my third post within the last two weeks. Part of my motivation may be the new layout, all credit due to the loverly Q, who is genius. It's a total departure from my previous layouts, and I love the change.

I may free-write a little here, as I've also started actually working on a novel again. It's been a long time. While I have this semester off, I might as well start up again. I may not have the time next semester. But perhaps I shall. My life is up in the air.

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"I don't understand it," she said. She looked across the path, where pigeons fluttered around a toddler and his heavily pregnant mother, tossing breadcrumbs onto the sidewalk. "What they call love is so clearly a biological function, designed for survival of the specie. A potent mix of chemicals."

Rob laughed, leaning into the wrought-iron bench. "You're such a skeptic, Cin."

She crossed her ankles and looked over at him. "Forgive me for bringing up Laurie, but her professed love for you had more to do with your looks. She was a beautiful girl, and innately, wanted a mate whose qualities resembled her own. It's scientific fact the better-looking are evolutionarily more suited for survival."

He grinned at her. "You're saying I'm good-looking?"

She felt the tops of her cheeks warm. "I was stating a fact established by current societal definitions of good-looking. It's a terribly vague term. In her day, Marilyn Monroe was considered a paragon of beauty. Today, she'd probably be told to lose weight."

Rob shrugged easily. "Eh, Marilyn Monroe. Blondes aren't my type."

"Hypocrite."

"Hey, I already get called the blond-haired blue-eyed American poster child. I won't submit my future children to the same indignity."

"But that would be-" She shook her head. "Never mind."

"Let me guess, evolutionarily responsible?" Rob drawled.

She straightened her spine, so it wasn't touching the slanted back of the bench. "It's not nice to make fun of people."

Rob's smirk softened into a smile. "Sorry, Cin. It's just - I can't figure out why you're so insistent on denying the existence of love outside biology."

The pigeons fluttered, catching her gaze again. "Chemistry, actually," she said absently. "I suppose it's both. Biology can't exist without chemistry." She watched the birds primping and pecking, battling for bread crumbs. Evolution at its basics, the need for sustenance, the bigger birds bullying the weaklings to the edges of the crowd. Over the years, she supposed, the birds developed an odd symbiotic relationship with humans. It made sense. Homo sapiens provided an easy source of food.

The left corner of Rob's mouth lifted. "There you go into your own head. I can only imagine what's going on in there. A discussion about mating pigeons?"

She blinked. "Close enough. How'd you know?"

"As insistent as the rest of the team is about your being impossible to read, I find it an interesting challenge."

"Ah," she said.

"It wasn't that hard, once I got past your tripwires and land mines."

She looked sideways at him, finding it hard to suppress the smile breaking her glower.

The pigeons broke and scattered, iridescent feathers loose and floating on the breeze. She looked up to see the toddler stampeding after them, a hunter and prey - no. Not a hunter and prey. She watched as the boy ran past the birds, into the arms of a man wearing a suit jacket a size too large and short in the ankles. The man swung the boy up and around until he was squealing with delight, before tossing him onto his shoulders and walking back towards the pregnant woman.

She watched, heart constricting as the family walked off together. "I kind of wish it were real," she whispered. Ashamed she'd said it out loud, she lifted her chin. "Doesn't really matter, though. Anyway, I heard someone from our group got a promotion to Blue line. Didn't hear the name, but I guess we'll know soon enough when someone's gone next week."

"Maybe," said Rob. He gazed at the lake as stray raindrops danced on the surface.

She looked askance at him. "Why wouldn't we? I figure that's pretty much the dream of anyone in the group, so someone's saying sayonara come Monday."

"Nah," said Rob. "Won't happen."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

He shrugged casually. "Because I turned down the offer."

She looked at him, mouth cracked open. "What? Why in the world would you not take a promotion?" He was the golden boy of graphic design, and she'd honestly expected him to get promoted sooner.

"It would entail a move to D.C.," he said.

"So? You love D.C. It's a great city."

He still wasn't looking at her. "Love makes people do crazy things."

She "Oh, god, tell me you're not staying for Laurie. She already hurt you so badly-"

Rob turned and looked her square in the eye. "I'm not going to D.C. because you aren't there."

The tirade died on her lips. "What - what do you mean?"

"You can go on all you want about love being a jumble of chemicals and crap, but tell me what evolutionary sense this makes."

Her mind whirred. This decision of his disregarded the instinct to move up the food chain, be it literal or metaphorical, and saying she was the reason - perhaps because their IQs were on the average, high - but that entirely threw the most attractive mate theory out the window, because she was so plain, and while he was a little on the nerd side, he was darling.

She couldn't find most of her voice. "But - why me?"

He leaned over and kissed her, slowly. She felt her eyes close of their own accord, and something stirring in her chest she hadn't felt since she was a child, safe with her parents, before their accident.

A moment later, Rob pulled back, still cupping her face in his hands, his beautiful, capable hands. "Because, despite all your minefields and massive resistance to the very idea of the sentiment, I love you."

She felt the first tear break, a hot streak down her face. He wiped it away with his thumb. The stirring in her chest bloomed, and it hurt, but she felt it like she hadn't felt anything in so long.

"I -" she faltered. How could it be true? But perhaps it didn't matter, because it just was. "I love you too."