``sippin coffee {open}

[Erica Anderson]

Erica clung to her jacket, wrapping it tighter around her as she walked up the snowy streets in Times Square, New York. It hadn't been long since she had moved here on her own, from a small town in the middle of the countryside in North Carolina. What a big change this was for her. She never in a million years would have guessed that she would make such a bold decision: to move away from her family, friends, and from the lifestyle she had enjoyed for sixteen years. Things would definitely be different here up north, and they would surely take some getting used to. First of all, the weather here felt like the arctic compared to what Erica was used to experiencing in the south. She missed being able to wear short sleeve shirts for most of the winter, and not bothering to own more than a jacket or two. Those things weren't really needed in North Carolina. But up here, the first thing Erica did was head to a clothing shop to purchase a thick, winter coat, which she was currently wearing, along with some light brown furry boots and a fuzzy scarf. She grabbed the scarf and pulled it over her mouth as she continued scaling the windy street.

Something she was desperately craving, as well as needing, was some of the famous Starbucks coffee she had enjoyed so frequently back home. However, where the temperatures skyrocketed in the south, she had always ordered frappuccinos (frozen coffee blends that were more refreshing than comforting). Today, however, the temperatures were nearly at zero, and snow covered the grounds. She doubted that a frappuccino would be necessary this morning, but instead, a much warmer drink would be needed. Finally, she reached the corner of the street where Starbucks Coffee was located. She forced her legs to walk a little faster, even though it seemed impossible since her skinny legs were so numb from the frigid air. The next shopping trip she took would definitely require her to buy some pants that were thicker than the jeans she was currently wearing. Her frozen fingers, desperately needing a pair of gloves, clinched the door handle as Erica's weak arm opened it. She barely took a step into the shop before bumping into someone. Looking up from the floor, she was unhappily greeted by a middle-aged man who stood before her. He fussed at her for a few seconds to watch where she was going, and then went on his way leaving she shop. Erica rolled her eyes.

Great, a line, she thought as she pursued forward to the queue of about five people waiting at the counter. She looked around behind the counter, and was reluctant to count that only two people were working. This will take forever, she assured herself. Having been to Starbucks before, it took about three to five minutes minimum to make each drink, so, unless everyone had ordered the same thing, it looked like Erica would be standing here for quite a while. She sighed loudly, hoping to attract attention, as she put all of her weight on one foot, crossing her arms. Erica bit her lip, and had a sort of bitchy expression on her face as she stood in the same spot, not moving. She was frustrated with this place, and it was taking too long. More than anything, Erica absolutely hated standing there in silence, not being able to talk to anyone. She didn't know a soul in this entire town, and the days of silence were growing old. She hadn't spoken to anyone since the concierge on her way out of her apartment earlier this morning. It made her mad that no one went out of their way to talk to her like they did back home. In North Carolina, she was known as the rich, obnoxious girl who everyone wanted to be friends with. Up here, it seemed like none of that matters. She was just one of many no-life specks living in New York, and she wasn't too thrilled about that idea. Erica shifted her weight to her other foot, desperately wanting someone to talk to.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[twiggy]

Sinead had been in New York for a total of about thee months, though it was nothing new to her. She had visited the city before having come from Boston where she had lived during her teen years. She originally came across the Atlantic from Ireland her family moving to the states when she was about thirteen. She still had a fair accent. It came and went, strongest when she was angry or upset, like with most people. She had come to New York for opportunities, at first she wanted to enroll in NYU perhaps but then someone told her she should consider a career in modeling. If a random stranger thinks you got what it takes you must have a chance right? With that she had went to the Covington Modeling Agency for that very chance. There had been many girls that had tried to get in with this new competition but they had chosen her along side of twenty four other girls. She had always dreamed of modeling as a young girl, but she didn’t have the typical blond hair blue eyes look. She was a redhead with a million and one freckles but perhaps that would work for her. It would make her stand out she’d be unique; it would be her signature look.

Today it was a bit chilly outside, so she had on long coat on. It had a classic plaid pattern in a bluish gray color with black and sash belt at her waist. The buttons were just above the sash. Then she had one some black leggings and some black boots with faux fur as the trimming on the top. He didn’t believe in using real fur, killing and animal for fashion wasn’t very cool. Killing it served no purpose. It wasn’t used for survival people didn’t eat minks or rabbits n a daily basis at least she hoped not. Then to accentuate her outfit she had on a dark blue scarf woven from cotton. It was pretty much simple but had a fashionesque look to it at the same time. If she was going to be a model she would have to look like one at all times. That’s what she had heard anyway; you never know who you might run into in NYC. Right now she could go for a little pick me up. Coffee she was addicted but she couldn’t help it. Maybe not so much coffee but Starbucks. During the warmer seasons she loved their ice fraps with extra whip. Yeah she lived a little. She didn’t starve or deprive her self like some models did. The ribcage look wasn’t her thing. Though she was thin she wasn’t going to be blown away in the wind either. Right now she could go for a nice big cup of hot coffee the mint chocolate one they had would be great. Maybe she would have a scone or something to go alone with her coffee. Sinead walked another block before she turned the corner to see the Starbucks she opened the door and stepped inside only to be greeted by a very long line. Sinead sighed knowing this wasn’t going to be a quick ordeal. Oh well at least it was warm in here, probably from all the body heat.

It seemed like she wasn’t the only impatient person in the room. The girl in front of her gave and exasperated sigh as well. Well who could blame her, there was only two people working the counter and they seemed like they were in a daze. Dazed and confused was more like it. Sinead watched as the one girl dropped the blender on the floor, which proceeded on shattering and of course a big mess. “Oh lovely” Sinead muttered. Now she would wait here for all of eternity. Why did she have to go to this Starbucks? She should have walked a few more blocks to the next one. This was absolutely boring and she was one second away from being Baker Acted. She was a social person and didn’t like standing in silence when there were people around. Sinead looked down and noticed she liked the shoes on the girl standing in front of her. At least it was something useful to start a conversation. Since they would probably both be here for an eternity. “Those are cute shoes, where did you get them?” Sinead asked hoping this girl wasn’t a bitch and would talk to her.

[Erica Anderson]

Erica stood there. She stood, and stood, and stood. She knew that she could make all of these drinks one thousand times faster than the two no-brains working the counter right now. She wished that she was chewing some gum, so that she could smack it loudly and get on everyone's nerves to the point that they would let her go to the front of the line and order, simply so that she could get out of this place. Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning to the left as she sucked in her cheeks, hoping to show how impatient she was. That was one thing about Erica that wasn't very polite; if she was thinking something, you'd know it. She isn't the type of person who is going to try and be nice, and inside be incredibly angry. No, that's not her at all. Instead, Erica would just make a scene and attract attention, having no intentions of being nice or polite at all. Growing up in the family that she did, and being an only child, she was used to getting her way when she wanted it. Erica had grown up a rich, spoiled brat. She knew it, and everyone knew it, and Erica was more than happy to live up to it. But here in New York, there were way more people than there were back in North Carolina, so no one ever seemed to pay attention to her at all. If she were waiting in line back home, she would say, "Don't you know who I am?" And, of course, everyone knew who she was. She was the famed daughter of the doctor in that small town. Up here, if she asked that question, the answer would be, "I don't know nor care." So, for right now, her only option was to wait in line.

She shifted her weight to the other foot, and pulled out her cell phone. She had planned to send a text message to her friend Abby, and probably rant and complain about the stupid line she was in at the slowest Starbucks in world history. However, there was no service in this damn building. How convenient, she thought to herself. What other joyful surprises might make her day even better? Well, just as she looked up, one of the slow-moving Starbucks employees dropped whatever they were making, which spilled all over the floor. "Dear Lord," she said angrily, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips. It was then that she realized another girl, probably near her age, was in line behind her. Erica's first impression of her was that she was elegantly beautiful, with gorgeous red locks and freckles. She had a friendly appearance to her, but it was apparent that she too was upset with the slow service here. The girl spoke first, making a comment about Erica's shoes and then asking where she got them. Amazed that someone had actually spoken to her, Erica answered, "Thanks. I got them at Michael Kors, just a few days ago. It's down the block, I think. There's a big sale going on, you might want to check it out."

She smiled at the girl, just as the first person in line finally got their drink, and exited the cramped store. "Great, someone's leaving. Now it'll only be another hour and a half," she muttered sarcastically, though it was loud enough for the people surrounding her to hear it. The man in front of her turned back and gave her a strange, upset look. Erica was in no mood to deal with this, so she raised her eyebrows, and gave the man a sort of 'what are you looking at' look. He turned back around, and Erica uncrossed her arms. Yeah, that's what I thought, she sarcastically pondered. She shifted her weight back to the other foot, since her left one was hurting from having her body rest on it for some ten minutes or so now. Erica turned back to the girl, eager for some conversation. "I'm Erica Anderson," she introduced herself in her noticeably southern accent, trying to be more friendly and less bitchy than her usual self. She was desperate for some friends up here in this unusual place she was having to live in. "Oh, and I love your coat, by the way," she complimented back, noticing the blue-gray plaid overcoat the girl was wearing. Erica hoped that maybe the two could get along well enough and maybe become friends. That is, if this girl could tolerate Erica's frequent sarcasm and short temper. Not many people could, hence the reason she only had a handful of friends. But hopefully, she could hold in her temper tantrums, and the two could get along great. But then again, this girl might have just been being friendly, and really had no interest in making friends with a complete stranger. Erica didn't know of her intentions, but hopefully they were positive ones.