Druggies get their fix through needles and pills- she gets hers through original cast recordings. [Introduction. Story title taken from The Drowsy Chaperone. Yes, another one of -those- romance ...
And, honestly, what the hell kind of name is Saffron? She isn't blonde, or fair, or remotely 'European-looking'; no, Saffron is surly and dark- dark raven hair, dark, almond-shaped eyes, tanned skin- a not-quite even mixture between her Filipino father and white mother. And, they had to go ahead and name her Saffron Blanche Verde. Perhaps her mother was a little high on the meds a little while after the birth, perhaps her father was having a mid-life crisis at age twenty-six and briefly decided to go down the hippy, bohemian route, or perhaps it was just a coincidence that her mother wanted to name her "Blanche" and her father wanted to name her "Saffron" and they honestly couldn't argue over what to call the baby, keeping both. Saffron Blanche Verde has a love-hate relationship with her name.
Saffron listens to showtunes.
She secretly likes to 'rebel' against the rest of the school. While everyone else is plugged into their iPods, listening to their Top 40 hits, their flavor of the week, she's putting on her vintage record player, ready to settle in with her precious vinyl records of Godspell, Les Miserables or Sweeney Todd. Druggies get their fix through needles and pills- she gets hers through original cast recordings; it's well past addiction, though she hides it well. She loves every aspect of theatre: the lyrics, the script, the costumes, the pain of auditioning and rejection, the thrill of landing a role, the stress-inducing rehearsals, the makeup still around one's ear after a shower, the fake eyelashes, the set changes-everything.
Saffron also dances.
She might look discomfited and frail in any other situation, but when she's dancing, she has grace; she is beautiful. Her feet are not pretty, but when they are covered with those satin pink Pointe shoes or shiny black taps, they give her elegance. Saffron can do anything on stage, she can become someone else.
Saffron does not know how she ended up on the set of a music video for some band she had only heard of once, nor does she know how she ended up becoming the dance partner of the lead singer, nor does she realize her walls are about to be broken.
Note: Believe me, there will be bulkier chapters later on- this is just the 'prologue'-ish thing. I hope you keep reading and please review!
Preview for Next Chapter!
"What did you say your name was?" he asks with a pleasant grin as he slips one hand on her waist, the other grasping her own free hand.
"Saffron," she replies brusquely, glancing somewhere over her partner's shoulder as they stand, alone, in the mirrored rehearsal room, "and you're not supposed to have your hand around my waist just yet."
"I'm a little eager," Brendon replies with what he thinks to be a charming smirk before releasing Saffron's waist, gently taking her other hand.