&& [we're] running out of T I M E }} BENJIEKINS.

[pfft]

Adam ooked nervously at the door to the Ice Rink, eyeing it carefully as he grimanced. He wasn't scared, no, just…well, y7es, I lie, he was absolutely, 100% terrified. Why would a grown man be skated of skating? He was a writer and had an imagination that tended up run away with itself sometimes. Yes, Adam had put the idea into his head that he was going to fall over and was going to get his fingers sliced off, blood leaking from it and ruining the perfect ice as everyone skated around him taunting him for being moronic and clumsy. Adam was clumsy and, yes, at times, he as moronic, but he just didn't have very much faith if the American people. Nope, not one bit. So what if he was frightened of skating? He was allowed to be, after all, he was a grown man. Just as he thought a small child and his father walked through the door, the child clutching his own pair of mini skates with a large grin on his face, claiming to his father that it was "the best fun ever". Adam gulped. Now he had to do it, otherwise he'd have to go and wallow in self pity.

Pushing open the large navy painted door he pushed his hands into his dark grey coat, the lined pockets smooth on his black glove covered hands. It had taken all his strength that morning not to put pads on his knees and elbows but he'd managed. As he looked at the bubble gum blowing teen carefully he bit his bottom lip hard. No, he just couldn't do it. Chickening out he smiled nervously and mumbled, "I'm meeting someone...i'll wait outside" quickly before slinking outside to find somewhere to sit. As he walked slowly along the side of the building he came to an old bench, the navy blue paint peeling off it's edge slowly as he looked at it. Smirking he shook his head and slumped down onto it, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Pulling them out he brought his phone with them, sliding it and pressing te nessicarry buttons to get to text messages. Finding himself texting he smirked as he sent a text to Benjie reading, Hey there Shortstop A.. Quickly sliding it back together he held it in his palm as his hands disappeared, once more, into his pockets and waiting for the soft vibration of his phone to signal he had retrieved a text message.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[evie3]

&&this thread has now ended