NOTHING AT ALL.

Story for ADG IS UP. Woo. Layout inspired by @fashioneaters. La-la-la.
 
You should PM me. Just because. Yeah. Also, CHECK OUT THIS STORY. Please.
 
http://www.polyvore.com/breathe_me_mtw/set?id=43832657
 
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Colin Everhardt likes Chinese food, but Sergei doesn’t. That’s okay. I like Chinese food.
 
Everyone was really shocked when Sergei and I fought. I mean, I’m sure his parents are glad that we’re not really together now, but it’s a weird feeling. Even Mari seems unnerved by the sudden change. And it’s not just a change in him. She claims that I’ve changed, too.
 
I guess it’s true. I spent a night last week watching Audrey Hepburn films and eating ice cream and trying not to cry. Colin Everhardt is nice, but he is not Sergei. He will never be.
 
I heard that your second love is better than your first. But I’m still too hung up on Sergei to find my second love. I guess that’s why Colin has to do for now.
 
I just want things to go back to the way they were.
 
Colin pulls out a chair for me, a perfect gentleman. The restaurant isn’t honestly in the best neighborhood, but he said on the way here that the food well makes up for the atmosphere. I hope this is true.
 
He orders for me in a rapid-fire language I don’t even understand. I assume the restaurant is authentic – you have to speak their language to even order. None of the menu, I notice, is in English.
 
Suddenly, the door bursts open. “Hello,” a man says, strolling in. He’s the kind of smooth man I never trust. Since nobody seems to speak English, he quickly finds a better way to get his point across. Whipping out a gun, he holds it to the head of the man at the counter. “Money,” he demands. “Yen.”
 
“Yen are Japanese, a/sshole, It’s a Chinese restaurant,” Colin’s voice says. I’m surprised that he’s not by my side. Somehow, he’s managed to get himself across the room. I feel more concerned for him than I should, considering how I think I feel about him. Maybe I’m wrong.
 
Colin is pointing a gu/n at the man’s head. What’s going on?
 
“Put the gun down,” Colin says, a menacing tone creeping into his voice. He seems to have this, whatever it is, under some kind of strange control. I respect that.
 
“Who are you?” the man replies.
 
“Detective Nick Bachelor. I’m with the NYPD. Put the gun down.”
 
The man complies. Pulling out handcuffs, Colin (Nick?) cuffs the man to the counter, takes away the gun, and pulls out a badge, flashing it at the employees of the restaurant. Then, he says something that must be along the lines of, “Don’t worry, I’m with the police.”
 
He may have calmed down the restaurant owners, but I’m not relieved.
 
Picking up his phone, he speaks rapidly into the mouthpiece. “Detective Nick Bachelor, here to report an attempted robbery.” He reads the address of the restaurant off quickly.
 
Before he can even notice me, I’ve picked up my phone. “Mari, pick up. Please pick up. Pick up pick up pick up.”
 
“Hello?” Mari says, yawning.
 
“Mari, I need you to come get me. Right now.”
 
“Look, Yulee. Can this wait? I’m kind of busy.”
 
“No,” I snap. “This cannot wait. It’s an emergency.”
 
She must hear the urgency in my tone, because she stops protesting. “I’ll be there in five minutes or less, guaranteed. Where are you?”
 
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