alice liddell (inquisitive) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2014-02-07 18:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | alice, boy blue |
WHO: Angie and Nate
WHAT: The delivery guy has a package for Angie. Tee hee.
WHERE: Angie's suite at Vdara
WHEN: Recently?
WARNINGS: It's so sweet and gross. Brush your teeth.
Nate was on his route, it was one of his last - he had two weeks to go before he joined up the fire department and got started on what he hoped would remain a career after his Marine days were over (if they ever were). But it was a more solid foundation than UPS driver. He was still delivering the backlog of packages from the holidays that had been delayed for whatever reason. Winter weather. Last minute shoppers. Either way he liked delivering packages after the holiday. People weren’t usually expecting them, and even though he wasn’t exactly a flower delivery man - packages weren’t always terrible. It was Saturday - working overtime on the backlog, so he didn’t know if he was going to Angie King (according to the package) at home or not. He knocked anyway. “Hold on!” The voice was shouted from behind the closed hotel room door as Angie rose from her couch. Her lap was filled with reports and her laptop jostled closed as she pushed it away from her. She tried her best not to take her work home with her but some days she wanted to loaf around in her pajamas and take skype conference calls. Thankfully, at the top of the ladder, no one cared to tell her not to. As she padded to the door she idly wondered who it was. She didn’t often leave the “Do Not Disturb” sign up on her door, she did love coming back to a freshly turned down suite, but when she worked she didn’t like to be disturbed. Besides, she hadn’t thought yet to order food. Her stomach growled at the reminder and she smiled ruefully to herself. “Yes?” She opened the door without hesitation, only later realizing that maybe she should have made sure she was presentable. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose, messy, low ponytail and she wore dark grey yoga pants that cut off at the calf, a light blue shirt that draped off one shoulder. She thought she might look like she rolled out of a cat nap which, that late in the afternoon, was pretty embarrassing to her. The thought disappeared as she surveyed the man before him. Cute, from what she could tell, but her attention was mostly on his uniform. “Did I get drunk and go on ebay again?” She hadn’t been expecting any deliveries today. He smiled pleasantly at her, “Happy New Year, UPS,” he said and even tipped his hat while he used the big brown scanner to scan the barcode, he shook the box - not damagingly - and thought for a moment. “Feels like a soda stream,” he said after giving it some thought. “Or a Keurig. Either one really. Probably a soda stream.” He handed the brown scanner to her, and the stylus pen for her to sign on the impossible screen. When he proclaimed Happy New Year she reflexively lifted her palms and quietly mouthed a soft, “Yaaaay?” before breaking off into an amused grin. His suggestions as to what she bought made her laugh and she gently nabbed the stylus from him. “I can’t imagine why drunk me thought a soda stream was a good idea. I don’t think I need that much sparkling water. Guess that’s no more beer and computers for me,” she said, scrawling out her name on the screen and watching haphazard black lines show up. Good enough. “So,” she said, handing him back the pen. “Your package?” As soon as the words left her lips, she felt an embarrassed grin tugging up one side of her mouth. Of course she would ask her cute UPS guy for his package. Of course. “My package—The package.” It wasn’t the first time someone had made that mistake. Hell even if it had been on purpose it wouldn’t be the first time. Nate was pretty sure he heard at least 20 package jokes a day. He didn’t mind, he was a good sport, and this was a cute girl rather than the 57 year old man that had said it to him yesterday. He handed her the package and grinned. “On the bright side, if it is a sodastream, which it is by the way - I am an expert, you’ll save the planet and money.” She was thankful he didn’t make too much light of her foot in mouth syndrome, her shoulders losing their nervous tension as she tucked her hair over her ear. “Pity you can’t help me set it up, oh expert. I’m pretty sure I’m going to unpack it, stare at it, and then promptly ignore it and the instructions.” Putting together things wasn’t high on her list of priorities these days. Not when there was work and internet to be distracted by, but she took the package from him all the same. “I don’t think I’m much of a soda stream expert, but I am a package expert,” oh good god. He just rolled with it, it was best not to think about it, and he was just going with it. “And that is definitely a soda stream,” he said with a grin once he handed it off. He wondered how long he was supposed to stand there awkwardly. Clearly their business was done. And over with. And she had her package and she could go inside and leave her sodastream in the box and he’d go back to his truck - which was double parked- and everything would be fine. But she’d been a little funny, and on the cute side, and he felt compelled to stay for just a couple of seconds longer. Even if that meant he was standing there awkwardly in the hallway saying absolutely nothing. “A package expert,” she said with a huge grin, glad to see she wasn’t the only one with this problem. “Well, I’d say if you didn’t have enough a lot of things to deliver otherwise I’d say you could come in and help with the package.” As soon as the word left her lips, she closed her eyes in sheer mortification. Laughing and turning away, she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Package, package, package, package,” Angie said, words rolling into giggles. “I’m hoping that by the end of this I can stop laughing like a twelve year old. Package.” “The shorts are my qualification,” he said shaking his head a bit. It wasn’t getting much better. But before too long she had turned away and was just repeating the word package over and over again. Which was amusing, a bit troubling, and he wondered if he ought to leave her to it. Perhaps he was only making it worse. “Have a good day, Miss,” he said as he turned to go. He was a few paces down the hallway, he didn’t hear the door close so he stopped in his tracks, because well he was likely never going to get the opportunity, and he was always saying that he wanted to take opportunities as they came. So he turned on his heel and jogged the few paces back to her door and knocked just as it was closing. “Hey, can I have your phone number?” he said almost out of breath (not from the jog that was about fifteen feet long, but from the nerves). It wasn’t the most suave thing anyone had ever done, but it was genuine, “I’m Nate by the way.” He probably should have led with that. She had just been about to close the door, eyes on the box in her hands and trying, pointedly, to forget the conversation they just had, when he returned. Needless to say, she was shocked, and she blinked at him for a quiet beat in confusion. “My number?” She furrowed her brow even as her lips quirked into soft smile, equal parts amusement and disbelief. “Did we not have a super awkward exchange? Because I remember me being a weirdo really clearly. I’d run.” He nodded, “I’m in the marines,” he said with a grin, “Nothing is more awkward than that, and believe me I’ve met even bigger weirdos than you,” he paused. Maybe she didn’t want to give him her number, at least it was one of the nicer shoot downs he’d gotten in his life. “Not that I think you’re a weirdo,” he corrected. “Charming,” he said smiling at her. “Charming is the word that sticks out.” “You think I’m charming?” She couldn’t have possibly sounded more pleased, smile bright and side. Shifting the box she was holding to one hip, she reached out and held her other hand out expectantly. “Phone. I’ll punch it in.” Oh, she was definitely not shooting him down. “I just really like the way you say package,” He was about to make an offhand comment about how his gauge for charming wasn’t great, because he had been overseas for the last ten years - but he didn’t want to miss the opportunity. He’d pick on her later - just for fun. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was small. And black. And said “verizon” on the cover. It was a flip phone. It was a flip phone with scratches, and an antenna that one could pull up if they were so inclined. It was the flip phone he’d had when he left for deployment. And it still worked, and he was way too lazy to switch. When she opened it she’d be greeted by an incredibly pixelated picture, on the incredibly small screen, of a pitbull mix sticking her head out of the window of a beat up Ford truck with her tongue hanging out of her head. “Oh my god, are you a time traveler? This thing’s ancient!” She couldn’t help but tease him, her smile getting wider, as she held the phone – a relic, even – in her hand. Flipping it open with her thumb she thought that it was like being a teenager all over again. She wondered if razr phones were still a thing somewhere. “Your dog is very cute though.” Her eyes were glued to the screen as she typed out her phone number under the name Charming Angie. “What’s the name?” “Yes, Time Traveling UPS Men. It’s a thing now,” he replied as she examined his phone. And it certainly wasn’t the first time someone had harassed him about it, if anything he’d keep it as a conversation piece. “Thank you, she’s ridiculous.” He responded about the dog. He looked at her a bit strangely when she asked for his name - if only because he’d already given it to her. “Nate. Nate Ryan.” “No,” she laughed, embarrassed and feeling her cheeks go a little rosy. “God, I know your name, Nate, Nate Ryan.” Even if he hadn’t said it like he was a secret agent, it wasn’t as if she would forget his name so easily. “I meant your dog. What’s her name.” Her thumb finished punching in the number and she closed it shut with a satisfying clicking noise and handing it back to him. Now he was being ridiculous. Lovely. He should have just delivered the package and left but now he had her phone number in his phone and that was what mattered. He took it before she changed her mind. “Khaleesi, just like every other dog rescued in the last year,” he said just a bit sheepishly. “But mostly we call her Khallie, rolls off the tongue when she’s in trouble for chewing up my couch.” “Khaleesi,” she cooed, the smile showing she approved greatly of the name choice. “She looks and sounds adorable. One day maybe I’ll meet her. For now I have to go and wrangle with my soda stream.” She tapped the side of the box she held with her fingers. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure half the dogs adopted from the pound that month wound up with that name, I love joining bandwagons,” he said with a bit of a wink. “And maybe one day you will, it depends on if you return my calls or not - and if you use a napkin when I inevitably get you to agree to go out with me. There are just some things I can’t expose my dog too,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’ll let you get back to your sodastream.” |