Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Throwing Stones At A Glass Moon
Dry Your Eyes
7 reviewsThese chapters might seem to be moving slowly now, but I promise there will be something to catch your attention in the near furture.
5Exciting
FOUR
Dry Your Eyes
May 25, 2006
Lindsey couldn't decide what to make of this stranger, this man named Andy. He drove cautiously through the storm that overwhelmed the narrow streets of Chicago mumbling the words to the song on the radio instead of initiating what was sure to become an awkward conversation. He watched her hesitantly out of the corner of his eye so slyly she wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to fall apart or disappear. She kept her eyes on the windshield wipers squeaking with every stroke. Focusing on their rhythmic pattern made it easier to pretend she didn't notice his slight smile.
Andy smirked just to keep himself calm. He wasn't one to just bring strange girls back to his apartment. He wasn't one to bring any girls home these days. He left that to Pete. He didn't want to scare her away with even the idea of this, simply because his intentions were pure. Mumbling along with the radio was easier than thinking of something clever to say. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her staring out the window, her eyes seemed as glassy as the rain droplets being wiped away.
"This is it!" Andy announced although he wasn't quite sure why. Lindsey's eyes moved slowly to him. She mirrored his smile although she wasn't quite sure why. Neither one moved from there.
"I'll grab your stuff out of the back." He suggested, "So you don't get wet anymore."
"Thanks." She replied quietly. It was obviously neither of them knew what to do.
After another few seconds of stillness, Andy unlocked the doors with a press of a button, and Lindsey hurried into the lobby of the building he had parked in front of. She gazed out the front window almost expecting Andy to just leave her there. A chill ran down her spine as a burst of the storm made it in behind Andy.
She took the guitar case as they waited in silence for an elevator. Andy shook water from his hair.
"It's level 3," Andy told her as the elevator doors slid open before them. Lindsey gave him a suspicious look. Andy shrugged, "I usually let Pete push the button." Her suspicious look continued.
Andy laughed nervously shifting the garbage bag into his left hand so he could push the round "3" with his right. "You'll probably get a chance to meet him. He's always stopping by."
Lindsey didn't reply. He interpreted her stare as confusion but in all actuality, she was just trying to figure him out. She read in a magazine left in a rest stop bathroom that said you can tell a lot about someone from just looking at them. All she got out of looking at Andy was his image imprinted in her memory. His silver framed glasses fogging up as the elevator rose three floors, his hair hanging limply around his face, the gray sweatshirt he wore dotted with raindrops. Maybe she could have figured out more if the second page of that article hadn't been ripped out before she found it.
Lindsey was searching him for an explanation; that twinge of something that would assure her she had been the right decision. The way her heart raced as she followed his steps down the hallway reminded her that she was always wrong.
It surprised Andy how much he could infer about Lindsey by just watching her. As cliché as it may seem, he understood how much her music meant to her. She kept her guitar in a much closer range that the rest of her belongings. The rest of her belongings, shoved all together in a bag kept in her trunk made it obvious she moved around a lot. Her eyes were always shifting, surveying and observing. She paid attention to detail while disregarding the unimportant. He couldn't decide if anything about her was unimportant.
As intriguing as Lindsey seemed, Andy couldn't help but wonder maybe there was a reason she seemed to be alone in the world. He might have willingly brought home a criminal. The broken innocence in her eyes seemed to mirror the heartbreak he harbored in his own. This girl was too wounded to even think about hurting someone else.
Wrapped in a blanket he had given her, Lindsey sat silently gazing around this unfamiliar apartment. It was quaint, but in the most comforting sense of the word. Everything was neat and orderly, almost like it hadn't been lived in for long. She was immediately drawn to shelves full of vinyl records. She had never seen so many.
"I've got a friend who's pretty into music." Andy used her interest as an icebreaker. He needed some way to get her to talk to him. He placed a warm mug of tea on the table in front of her.
"Thank you." She muttered recoiling after her first sip.
"It's hot." He joked looking back at the records, "I'm sure if you ask he'll let you look through them."
Lindsey didn't reply. Instead she swallowed small gulps of the warm liquid and relished in the coziness of the apartment. She hadn't been inside anywhere that wasn't a public building for quite a long time.
"So, what brings you to Chicago?" Andy posed a question he assumed she'd find a way to get around. She didn't seem like a very trusting type. He was right.
"I'm just passing through. Just of the road to somewhere better."
He nodded. An answer general enough to satisfy the question asked yet broad enough to not reveal too much. He sipped tea from his own mug as Lindsey's eyes wandered around the apartment again.
"If you need a place to stay...." He trailed off when he couldn't decide if her gaze was one of hope or offense.
The front door opened quick enough to catch Lindsey's attention. A man whose face was mostly covered beneath the brim of his hat entered with a booming, "I like your nurse's uniform, guy."
Lindsey blinked at him.
"These are O.R. scrubs." He continued hanging his coat on the rack besides the door.
Lindsey blinked again.
"O, R they?" The man chuckled to himself as he nodded towards Andy and disappeared into a room on the far side of the apartment.
Andy chuckled at the general confusion spreading across Lindsey's face, "That's Patrick. He lives here too. He's big on quoting movies. That was Rushmore. Have you seen it?"
"I should probably go." Lindsey said both louder and faster than she had previously been speaking. She had left the blanket and mug in her spot and had collected her bag and guitar before Andy was able to stop her. But the lump in his throat told him he did have to stop her.
"Look outside." He insisted gesturing toward the window pane still being pelted by the storm, "At least stay until the rain stops."
Lindsey placed the bag down besides her still fidgeting with the handle on the guitar case. Looking Andy directly in the eye for the first time she finally understood what that article in that rest stop magazine meant. She was filled with a warm feeling she hadn't felt before.
"Do you always invite strangers into your home?"
Andy smiled. Her eyes were gorgeous. "Only the pretty ones," He joked. He smiled as her cheeks filled with pink. "Are you always this difficult to get along with?"
"I guess so." Lindsey shrugged.
"In that case, I'll show you too your room."
Dry Your Eyes
May 25, 2006
Lindsey couldn't decide what to make of this stranger, this man named Andy. He drove cautiously through the storm that overwhelmed the narrow streets of Chicago mumbling the words to the song on the radio instead of initiating what was sure to become an awkward conversation. He watched her hesitantly out of the corner of his eye so slyly she wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to fall apart or disappear. She kept her eyes on the windshield wipers squeaking with every stroke. Focusing on their rhythmic pattern made it easier to pretend she didn't notice his slight smile.
Andy smirked just to keep himself calm. He wasn't one to just bring strange girls back to his apartment. He wasn't one to bring any girls home these days. He left that to Pete. He didn't want to scare her away with even the idea of this, simply because his intentions were pure. Mumbling along with the radio was easier than thinking of something clever to say. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her staring out the window, her eyes seemed as glassy as the rain droplets being wiped away.
"This is it!" Andy announced although he wasn't quite sure why. Lindsey's eyes moved slowly to him. She mirrored his smile although she wasn't quite sure why. Neither one moved from there.
"I'll grab your stuff out of the back." He suggested, "So you don't get wet anymore."
"Thanks." She replied quietly. It was obviously neither of them knew what to do.
After another few seconds of stillness, Andy unlocked the doors with a press of a button, and Lindsey hurried into the lobby of the building he had parked in front of. She gazed out the front window almost expecting Andy to just leave her there. A chill ran down her spine as a burst of the storm made it in behind Andy.
She took the guitar case as they waited in silence for an elevator. Andy shook water from his hair.
"It's level 3," Andy told her as the elevator doors slid open before them. Lindsey gave him a suspicious look. Andy shrugged, "I usually let Pete push the button." Her suspicious look continued.
Andy laughed nervously shifting the garbage bag into his left hand so he could push the round "3" with his right. "You'll probably get a chance to meet him. He's always stopping by."
Lindsey didn't reply. He interpreted her stare as confusion but in all actuality, she was just trying to figure him out. She read in a magazine left in a rest stop bathroom that said you can tell a lot about someone from just looking at them. All she got out of looking at Andy was his image imprinted in her memory. His silver framed glasses fogging up as the elevator rose three floors, his hair hanging limply around his face, the gray sweatshirt he wore dotted with raindrops. Maybe she could have figured out more if the second page of that article hadn't been ripped out before she found it.
Lindsey was searching him for an explanation; that twinge of something that would assure her she had been the right decision. The way her heart raced as she followed his steps down the hallway reminded her that she was always wrong.
It surprised Andy how much he could infer about Lindsey by just watching her. As cliché as it may seem, he understood how much her music meant to her. She kept her guitar in a much closer range that the rest of her belongings. The rest of her belongings, shoved all together in a bag kept in her trunk made it obvious she moved around a lot. Her eyes were always shifting, surveying and observing. She paid attention to detail while disregarding the unimportant. He couldn't decide if anything about her was unimportant.
As intriguing as Lindsey seemed, Andy couldn't help but wonder maybe there was a reason she seemed to be alone in the world. He might have willingly brought home a criminal. The broken innocence in her eyes seemed to mirror the heartbreak he harbored in his own. This girl was too wounded to even think about hurting someone else.
Wrapped in a blanket he had given her, Lindsey sat silently gazing around this unfamiliar apartment. It was quaint, but in the most comforting sense of the word. Everything was neat and orderly, almost like it hadn't been lived in for long. She was immediately drawn to shelves full of vinyl records. She had never seen so many.
"I've got a friend who's pretty into music." Andy used her interest as an icebreaker. He needed some way to get her to talk to him. He placed a warm mug of tea on the table in front of her.
"Thank you." She muttered recoiling after her first sip.
"It's hot." He joked looking back at the records, "I'm sure if you ask he'll let you look through them."
Lindsey didn't reply. Instead she swallowed small gulps of the warm liquid and relished in the coziness of the apartment. She hadn't been inside anywhere that wasn't a public building for quite a long time.
"So, what brings you to Chicago?" Andy posed a question he assumed she'd find a way to get around. She didn't seem like a very trusting type. He was right.
"I'm just passing through. Just of the road to somewhere better."
He nodded. An answer general enough to satisfy the question asked yet broad enough to not reveal too much. He sipped tea from his own mug as Lindsey's eyes wandered around the apartment again.
"If you need a place to stay...." He trailed off when he couldn't decide if her gaze was one of hope or offense.
The front door opened quick enough to catch Lindsey's attention. A man whose face was mostly covered beneath the brim of his hat entered with a booming, "I like your nurse's uniform, guy."
Lindsey blinked at him.
"These are O.R. scrubs." He continued hanging his coat on the rack besides the door.
Lindsey blinked again.
"O, R they?" The man chuckled to himself as he nodded towards Andy and disappeared into a room on the far side of the apartment.
Andy chuckled at the general confusion spreading across Lindsey's face, "That's Patrick. He lives here too. He's big on quoting movies. That was Rushmore. Have you seen it?"
"I should probably go." Lindsey said both louder and faster than she had previously been speaking. She had left the blanket and mug in her spot and had collected her bag and guitar before Andy was able to stop her. But the lump in his throat told him he did have to stop her.
"Look outside." He insisted gesturing toward the window pane still being pelted by the storm, "At least stay until the rain stops."
Lindsey placed the bag down besides her still fidgeting with the handle on the guitar case. Looking Andy directly in the eye for the first time she finally understood what that article in that rest stop magazine meant. She was filled with a warm feeling she hadn't felt before.
"Do you always invite strangers into your home?"
Andy smiled. Her eyes were gorgeous. "Only the pretty ones," He joked. He smiled as her cheeks filled with pink. "Are you always this difficult to get along with?"
"I guess so." Lindsey shrugged.
"In that case, I'll show you too your room."
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