[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

In an unexpected turn of events, Ashley’s manager had messed up. Instead of arranging for two meetings on either side of lunchtime, she’d managed to schedule the “morning” meeting for 8:00 PM (in retrospect, that booking had been met with a surprising amount of hesitation) and now half the people expected to attend were still out of town, waiting for flights or at other prior commitments. So, a late night meeting it would just have to be.

Consequently, delightfully, Ashley had a free morning. She was in Los Angeles too, rather than her usual San Francisco base, so there wasn’t really anything else she could do besides enjoy herself.

It was a pretty hot day, so she wasn’t really in the mood for tourist stuff. Additionally, in her experience, anyone she knew who lived in LA needed about a week’s notice before they could consider making time to hang out, so a spontaneous coffee trip was a no-go. Sometimes it was rather boring socialising with people in her industry – everyone was just so busy all the time.

There was one thing that she’d like to do, but she wasn’t sure of how to go about it. She’d been happily experimenting in the studio the previous week, seeking new sounds and trying to persuade the rest of the room that she could afford to take musical risks. It was a difficult, on-going task but she felt like she could get there with the right demo tape. In any case, in between experimenting she’d got to talking to a group of college students who were home for the summer and they’d been telling her all about their favourite professor.

Despite the general, mainstream appeal of McKenna Chase, Ashley did actually know or thing or two about music and was always happy to learn a thing or two more about it. They’d mentioned that UCLA ran summer sessions and Ashley was jumping at the chance to check out this enthusiastic, knowledgeable lecturer and maybe see if he could offer her some lessons in something new. She’d always fancied learning a bowed string instrument.

And so that was how Ashley had found herself lost on a college campus.

It took a lot of searching and a lot of asking anybody who looked friendly, but she eventually worked out where this Professor Lane was lecturing. Unfortunately, it was a lecture that had already started ten minutes ago, but she was sure no one would mind. Somebody might mind that she wasn’t paying for the privilege of being here, but Ashley had every intention of making a donation once she figured out who to make it to.

Quietly, Ashley slipped into the back of the lecture hall and tip-toed her way to the nearest seat. She caught a few dirty looks as she settled down but just cast a broad smile back at them. There was no need to take notes – she was just here to listen – so she shuffled forward in her seat, propped her head up with her arms and stared with an expectant look at the professor.

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: A lesson in influence

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

Another day, another lesson. Alistair adored the idea of summer courses. Generally, it meant the students taking them were fairly interested or dedicated to the subject either to simply get to graduating faster or to learn more in their field while they paid the tuition. Why not take more classes if you had the time and were already paying the money? But the best thing about it, above all of that, was the fact that he could work year-round. He tried taking a summer off once.. and couldn't stand it. He had no idea what to do with himself.

He stood in front of fresher faces - those he'd just met a couple of weeks ago - and waited for them to get to their seats. Alistair took his place behind the desk down the lecture hall by the large boards, setting his leather messenger back on its surface but remaining standing by the desk's edge. "I'll give you the first ten minutes to settle in, pull out your notes, and get out your essays from last week. I'd like you to exchange yours with someone nearby you and give it a quick read. Pick one thing in their research that catches your interest."

Turning to the boards, he began to draw a long line and create dashes along it. He labelled each with either a specific event or composer as well as a year. After it was finished, he turned around and brushed his hands free of chalk before looking at the many students to see that most had finished reading one another's essays. "Mr. Rouse, what did you find interesting in what you read today?" he leaned the back of his waist against the desk, hands sliding into his trouser pockets as he called on a student. "Uhhh.." the student looked back down at the paper and flipped a page to locate where he'd been looking, "Chopin like.. started professionally performing when he was eight years old. I dunno, found that kinda cool."

"Definitely kinda cool," he agreed, eyes wrinkling at the sides as he smirked, "I don't know about you, but when I was eight I was obsessed with how I could prove I was responsible enough to own a puppy. Didn't work, by the way." The small joke earned a few chuckles here and there, but he moved quickly on to another student. It was so weird, teaching... He felt like a completely different person. It was calm. Free. The personal excitement of the subject made him crawl out of his shell. After the girl answered he turned to the board and pointed to the timeline. It wasn't anything they had to study or memorize. Simply understand.

The lecture revolved around the subject of 'influence'. There was a bubble in history - a couple of hundred years where influence switched and moved around so fast through so many different mediums, fields, and societies that everything about the arts exploded into fame and created an increasingly ornate culture. He spoke of how the church influenced art. Then how that art influenced drama. Then drama's influence to incorporate music. It was a circle. The music then grew to support the church, then the state, then more art, and so on.

What he centered on, though, was that music had been the medium that had no longer become majorly influenced by outside things. Instead, it was the source. A time period where geniuses were born nearly back-to-back with outstanding ideas to blaze the trail for artists of all kinds. An interesting thought, that 'bubble in history'. He was constantly walking in front of the class, explaining with his hands in a calm manner that was also engaging and excitable. He spoke like any good, memorable teacher spoke - like he loved the subject. And boy, did he love it. "Think on this while finishing up your final drafts about what composer you decided to write on. How were they a genius in this.. 'influence bubble'?"

A student raised his hand and he lifted his eyes silently to give him his attention. "Why hasn't something like this happened again like.. in another field? In science or language or something? This influence era of geniuses?" Such a bright young man.. Eyes looked to him, then to Alistair, and he thought about an answer for a moment. "Maybe it has and the world is simply too big and unattached now to notice it." The clock ended his hour and the students began to pack up and leave. "Looking forward to seeing your thoughts. Have them printed out and ready no later than Friday. If you have any questions, I should reply to most of your emails in less than a day."

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #494156; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #494156 0%, #494156 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #494156 0%, #494156 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #494156 0%, #494156 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

She wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting. Ashley had only heard good things about the impressive music professor but it was still surprising just how captivating he was being. Part of her had expected some old, jaded rock star in sunglasses to stand at the front and drawl about the good old days of rock and roll so it was a pleasant surprise that he looked so… well, normal.

Mostly normal, anyway. He was a giant of a man, somewhere far above six foot, and he was broadly built too. He was smartly dressed, which Ashley appreciated, and was generally quite neat in his overall appearance. Younger than she’d anticipated though. Maybe not even over thirty yet. It was only when she really settled into his lecture and began to feel his enthusiasm wash over the theatre that she understood how he’d reached such a position and with such a reputation at his apparent young age.

Somebody nearby had been kind enough to let her peek over their shoulder while the rest of the students exchanged papers. It was pretty dull for the most part – Ashley was sure the work had borrowed heavily from Wikipedia articles – but there were splashes of promise here and there where the student had actually had an original thought.

His rapport with the summer students was good. Very good. It was like watching a professional performer which, considering the subject, very well could have been the case. She sniggered at his mini-anecdote about wanting puppies although she couldn’t really relate. If she’d wanted a puppy, she knew that she would have had one. Mom and dad could never really say no and, if they did, Ashley always had Will to fight her corner.

If she could choose a composer to write an essay on, she’d probably select Clara Schumann – wife of Robert Schumann. Ashley was an unabashed proponent of “girl power” and had always had quite the bias for female artists. Sure, Schumann had been more renowned as a pianist than she had been as a composer, but that wasn’t the point. Ashley was half-tempted to try and write the essay in her spare time and send it off to Professor Lane anyway, just to see what he thought. She liked to consider herself a good judge of character and was pretty sure that he’d be entirely on board with it.

The idea of influence was as fascinating as it was utterly essential knowledge for somebody like Ashley. She had big dreams and an endless supply of determination – she just needed the tools and the good fortune to get there.

As he wrapped the lecture up, Ashley quickly slipped out of her seat and down one of the aisles. She wasn’t giving him a chance to get away, even if he did deserve the rest after that performance.

“Professor Lane, hi, hi!” She waved, trying to catch his attention as she drew closer. “Amazing, incredible stuff. And I think you have a point there, about this big world of ours,” she said, pausing to catch her breath. “Sorry, I’m Ashley. Ashley McKenna-Chase. Just another girl in LA trying to influence the world.”

She grinned. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything; it’d be real awesome if you had time to talk.”

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: Lunch?

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

There was a specific order he put his things away in every day. Even as a few students gave him a quick 'goodbye' as they passed him towards the door he was still setting everything back in order into his bag. He hardly had used anything that he pulled out of it, but it was still all set out in a very specific way - pens, papers, laptop, notebook, everything. It had all been pulled out one way and he made sure to put it back the exact same, only backwards.

His head lifted when he heard his name being called from a bit up an isle, a hand still in the opening of the leather as he took time to try and place a name to the face he didn't recognize. "Amazing, incredible stuff. And I think you have a point there, about this big world of ours," she came closer and stood excitingly in front of his desk while he wore a very telling expression of not recognizing her. Flattered, though, he let a bashful smile lift on his face. "Oh, well thank you. Miss-?"

"Sorry, I’m Ashley. Ashley McKenna-Chase. Just another girl in LA trying to influence the world." His smile widened at this and he extended his hand as an offer to shake. Obviously she'd been a sit-in and he let out a breath of relief that he had been struggling to remember someone who hadn't been her before. He made it a point to try and get every student's name correct. It was important to him. "A pleasure."

Already, he was more than happy to listen, though he couldn't imagine what she'd want to talk to him about. She seemed awful young.. maybe a journalism student doing staff interviews? Highly likely, he'd answered some emails and questionnaires before. "N-no, not at all! Of course. Headed to lunch actually. You're more than welcome to join. Just a uh.. sandwich place around the corner. Short walk." he offered, lifting the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #6c9d73; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

“Great! I love sandwiches!”

Ashley leapt at the invitation. She didn’t need to be out of here until 1:00 pm, which gave her plenty of time to continue enjoying her free time. There was something so satisfying about guilt-free time off. It wasn’t like she could be doing much else. Besides, she liked to think that attending a lecture and hanging out with an extremely knowledgeable professor after class was pretty productive. At least she wasn’t holed up in her hotel room having a bubble bath or something.

Mmm bubble baths.

She walked with him, trying her hardest to make it look effortless to keep up with this giant of a man. It was tough. Ashley was in heels and still probably at least a whole foot shorter than him.

“So what can I call you? Mr Lane?” It felt awkward to call him anything more formal than his first name, but she didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable in his place of work if he was used to being addressed in a certain way by his students.

She decided to introduce herself to get the ball rolling. He hadn’t reacted to her surname so she assumed he wasn’t all too familiar with McKenna Chase as a musician which, while not surprising, was the softest and most minor of blows to her. Sure, she wasn’t exactly famous, but she’d been hoping that he might have heard of her in passing at least considering his profession. Hey, no big deal, she was promoting and publicising for a reason.

“You can call me Ash if you like,” she began, smiling up at him and trying not to crane her neck too much. “I write music as McKenna Chase, kinda… country pop stuff,” she said with a happy shrug. “I’ve been in studio for what feels like forever and I’ve got all these voices around me trying to tell me what to write and how it should sound – ugh, you gotta understand how crazy it makes me. I love my job, don’t get me wrong,” Ashley added with a laugh.

“I want to make real, good music. I’ve been trying my hardest to experiment without pushing the songs out of radio-friendly territory and I think I’m pretty good at it for the most part but I can also accept my limitations,” she said, sticking her tongue out. “Someone said you’re, like, the authority on music so… here I am!”

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: Lunch?

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

"Great! I love sandwiches!" she agreed as they headed out of the lecture hall and earned a smirk from the already socially-altered professor. It was as if the classroom door frame changed him the second he walked through it - from confident and sturdy to a much more enclosed, awkward version of his earlier self. Anything that wasn't music he just wasn't good at speaking on/about..

"Their BLT is delicious," he recommended, looking down at her to his side and noticing how far she had to stretch her legs. Consciously, he tried to shorten his strides with a little bit of guilt. He didn't often like his size.. It made people nervous and he wasn't near coordinated enough to feel comfortable towering over everyone. Often, it just intimidated others before he'd even had the chance to speak with them. "Ah, yes, Mr. Lane is just fine," he smirked and nodded. He preferred it in the workplace.

He did his best to keep looking down at her the more they spoke (well, the more she spoke and he listened). While enjoying the fresh air of the campus grounds on their way to the cafe, he kept his mouth shut until she'd said everything she needed to - his expression attentive and pace even, one hand still holding the strap of his bag. And here he thought she was some journalism student.. Maybe 'Mr. Lane' was inappropriate, then.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he admitted, shaking his head, "I thought you were a student. Alistair is fine if it's more comfortable. I hadn't meant to seem too overly professional-," he started putting his free hand up during his apology but backtracked to hearing her last statement. "...Me? Oh goodness," the large man chuckled, reaching his arm forward to hold the door open for her. "Nooo.. Not me, I just teach and.. play and listen.. Really. I'm very flattered but-.. I'm afraid that's far too much credit." The more he tried to rewind and brush off the compliment, the faster his speech became - rushing out to deny.

"I doubt you'd be successful without having been making 'real' music," he offered her his best reassuring smile, "and it sounds like you're already quite successful. I doubt I'll be of any help but I'm willing to be however I can." Following her inside the small restaurant, Alistair allowed her to go first for ordering at the counter. "Lunch is on me. I insist." Ever the gentleman. She was a guest of the school's, after all.

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #6c9d73; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

Ashley giggled. “Well, let’s compromise – how about Mr Alistair?”

She hoped that he’d pick up on her tone and recognise the suggestion for the joke that it was. The moment they’d stepped out of the lecture theatre, Alistair Lane had seemed much less confident. Maybe she was being too bold, too presumptuous, forcing him out for lunch with her. After a performance like that, she could imagine the need for peace, quiet and recharging.

Personally though, Ashley never really felt that need. After a night on stage, Ashley would ride the high like an excitable surfer. Being surrounded by people wasn’t exhausting – it was energising! There was nothing that she wanted to do more than collect with fellow human beings and blabber away until it was all she could do to keep her eyes open, feeling alive in the glow of attention. Obviously, there were times when Ashley wasn’t actively socialising… they just weren’t as common for her as she knew they could be for others.

The change in Alistair’s disposition was most apparent as he hurriedly dismissed her praises. Gosh, she was starting to feel bad for thrusting this social situation upon him. Maybe she should’ve just grabbed his email and left.

“Hey, just what a couple of kids from your school told me,” she said gently. “Anyone who can get a college student to show up, let alone enjoy the lecture, must be pretty good.”

Ashley hadn’t been to college but she knew plenty from high school who were currently studying. More accurately, she knew plenty who should be studying, but were probably napping.

It was Ashley’s turn for modesty. “Oh I don’t know about successful – on my way, I think.”

She went for the BLT, as per Alistair’s suggestion, and did her best to rein in any protests over lunch payments. It was a bad habit of hers and she’d recently made a resolution to appreciate people’s acts of generosity more. After all, she was quite the hypocrite when the situation was reversed. Ashley had fond memories of tackling a friend in middle school for objecting to a free milkshake. (They’d been en route to giving their money to Ashley’s mum; a tackle was definitely justified).

“So tell me, Mr Alistair, how did you get into music? Did your parents approve?”

Her parents had always been nothing but exceptionally supportive of all of Ashley’s endeavours, but she knew plenty who had had to fight to prove that they could make a career from their passion. Parental disapproval was a common theme amongst many of her fellow musicians but, hey, at least it gave them something to write about.

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: He's much better at speaking to women.

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

Mr. Alistair? It sounded strange, but the giggle just had him exchanging a soft smile. If it was what she preferred, that was just fine. The only time his name mattered to him was honestly just when he was at work and around his students. He was still just 'Alistair' to co-workers. "Hey, just what a couple of kids from your school told me." His head turned to her while they were at the counter, giving her a 'really?' expression without a word. "Well they're.. They're good kids. All of them," he commented, nodding his head. He honestly believed it to - every student in that room had a different shine to their excellence.

"Anyone who can get a college student to show up, let alone enjoy the lecture, must be pretty good." "Ohhh, I don't know about that," he gave a bashful grin, dropping his head away slightly, "I enjoyed school. Not some of the general studies courses but," his large shoulders shrugged, silently finishing the statement. "I'm lucky to have the students I do."

It wasn't long til they both sat across from one another with the same sandwich. For as large as he was, he took polite and conservative bites with elbows off the tabletop. "If you're doing something that makes you happy for work, I'd call that success," he offered with a light and optimistic expression. It surprised him that he didn't know what kind of questions to expect, but that - one of the most generic - definitely hadn't been one of them for some reason.

"Oh, well, actually," he swallowed his bite and lifted a napkin to wipe his mouth and clear his throat. Alistair straightened himself and didn't seem too uncomfortable speaking on the subject. It was hard to explain.. but not difficult to explain on. As long as no one thought it seemed like he was seeking pity. He wouldn't have changed his foster parents for anything. "I wasn't in a solid home until high school. They were wonderful people. He really liked football but.. I couldn't tackle anyone," he huffed through his nose and shook his head, a smirk showing briefly.

"I loved the piano. I played in the band room after school and the director had heard me. They came to every concert. Rest is history I guess.." He went to secondary school for a degree in music education and right into the university to teach. "Do your parents enjoy what you do?" he inquired, having had a week's worth of fill for talking about himself. It wasn't his favorite subject. "You're obviously dedicated," he motioned between them at the conversation with a grin. He was sure they were very proud of her.

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #6c9d73; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

There was a certain pride and fondness in Alistair’s tone as he spoke of his students. Obviously he was extremely flattered and slightly bemused by word of his students’ praise, perhaps tinged with a warm sense of affirmation. Ashley always liked to hear feedback from people who had played her music to their friends and family – particularly (obviously) when it was positive. Hearing that she’d “gained a new fan” was music to her ears.

“Oh come on, there must be a few naughty kids,” she teased. “A bad apple or two always spices up the classroom, right?”

Ashley bit her lip, pondering whether she’d have been a good college student. From what she could tell, it was a very different experience to high school. “I think I might do some more studying some day,” she said, a little quietly. “I’ve sorta prioritised my career for now but it would be nice to get a bachelor’s if life ever gets less hectic. Hey, maybe you can be my future teacher!”

Her eyes lit up as she said this, her enthusiasm genuine. She was already wondering if she could broach the subject of some music lessons but was holding back for now.

It took Ashley a little while to process what he meant by not being in a solid home until high school, and once she did figure it out she felt her hand rise involuntarily to her mouth. Alistair didn’t seem too concerned about discussing the subject but she still felt bad for assuming he’d been raised in the typical nuclear family setup.

“Ya, I was always too short to hit anyone very hard,” Ashley laughed. “I could probably hold my own a lot more now that I actually go to the gym,” she mused, “But I think I’d take music over football any day.”

Ashley couldn’t help but beam at his comment on dedication. “They’re really supportive, it’s amazing. My mom especially – although I think more because she’s hoping being famous will land me a guy,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And my big brother has always been there for me too. He’s like, my number one cheerleader,” she added, grinning. “Without the short skirts and pompoms. And the cheer routines. And the- oh, you get it.” Ashley giggled and took a large bite of her sandwich in a bid to keep herself from rambling. Ahhh… it was goddamn delicious.

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: bumbling and stumbling.

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

His new young acquaintance went on in thought about the future and its possibilities and when she mentioned going back to school he couldn't help but smile with some sort of pride for the little time he'd known her. Good for her. She deserved to see herself succeed in whatever it was she wanted to achieve. "Hey, maybe you can be my future teacher!" A quiet, low chuckle came from his mouth before he'd just about taken a bite, making him drop the sandwich a few inches and look as professionally flattered as he could over the table at her. "It'd be my pleasure."

It was strange, this 'loosened' feeling.. Not unlike how it was with students one-on-one in their private lessons; but he'd known most of them for years now. An eternal tension in his jaw and shoulders was easing without him even knowing - the anxious feeling of never knowing how to converse drifting away. Until she put her hand over her mouth at his mention of home. Thinking back on it.. that probably hadn't been the best way to explain.

"Oh.. no, it's okay.." he shook his head and looked down slightly at the surface between them. He felt guilty that she felt guilty. "We're uh.. even still in contact," sometimes. He was poor at returning Christmas cards or exchanging in deep conversations on the phone. He knew it disappointed them.. but every time he spoke to them, he couldn't help but hurt. It was probably easier for them, if they were honest with themselves, to spend less time thinking about him.

Eternally grateful that the subject had turned into something much happier and about her rather than him. It was refreshing to hear the joy of how loved she was. Her little jokes had him smirking again and even remembering to take another bite of his own sandwich. "You both are lucky to have each other," he grinned, folding the paper sheet that his lunch had come in. A quirk of his. He couldn't bring himself to simply crumple it before throwing it away.

Oh.. was it his turn to ask a question? He wasn't good at this.. "So you sing? Do you play any instruments?" he pushed the trash a bit aside and folded his hands one on top of the other to spend some patient time listening.

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #6c9d73; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

“Don’t say stuff like that without being serious,” Ashley warned, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I’ll make you keep to that, Mr Alistair! Before you know it you’ll be supervising my thesis or something. Which, I’m warning you now, will drive you mad.”

She probably shouldn’t finish this sandwich, her manager would kill her if she knew how much bacon she was planning on consuming in one sitting. They had a difference of opinions when it came to the definition of a healthy lifestyle. Ashley kept fit and exercised, rewarding herself with a balanced diet that was nonetheless filled with treats, while she was sure a lot of girls in her career did less exercise but made up for it by heavily restricting what they ate. She couldn’t handle the stress of that, to be honest. As long as she could continue to be happy with what she saw in the mirror, Ashley wasn’t about to start counting calories.

It annoyed her that she’d even thought of not finishing the sandwich. She took a huge bite out of spite, suddenly determined to consume the whole thing immediately.

“That’s nice!” she said quickly. “It’s hard to keep in touch with people when you’re busy, but I think it’s worth the effort.”

Ashley watched him delicately folding his rubbish, faintly amused and faintly confused. She hoped he wasn’t doing it out of boredom. Maybe it was just a habit.

“We are so lucky; he’s especially lucky,” she said with a laugh. “I totally set him up on a date this week. I haven’t told mom yet cause she’d freak about baby names or whatever. Kidding,” Ashley added quickly, worried that she was giving too bad an impression of her admittedly kinda-obsessive mother. “But ya, just call me cupid.”

She smiled as he moved into full “listening” mode. Maybe he was actually enjoying talking to her… Yay!

“I sing and play guitar… I’ve messed around with ukulele and mandolin too but not really enough to say I can play them properly, you know? I’m okay at piano too. Don’t give me drumsticks, there is way too much multi-tasking involved with drums,” she said, giggling. “I’ve been wanting to try something different so I can work it into the studio but I’m not really sure where to start. I’m quite into songs with bowed strings in at the moment I guess. They’ve got a nice… classical vibe.” She wasn’t really sure how to describe her attraction to the sound, but she hoped he would understand.

“What do you play?”

ψ

[Deleted]

[attr="class","ohlove"]

[attr="class","lacking"]

[attr="class","eyes"]
✎ tag: Ashley McKenna-Chase

※ wearing: Here

✉ notes: Eat them calories!

both were silent.

the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys.

"I’ll make you keep to that, Mr Alistair! Before you know it you’ll be supervising my thesis or something. Which, I’m warning you now, will drive you mad." The mischief-drenched grin on her face and the challenge in her words made him both smile and raise his posture a bit. He wasn't ever the man that had his pride easily tested. Nothing to prove. But this was different. Admittedly, he felt a small urge to accept the challenge and it showed on his face. "Or pleasantly impressed," he suggested the alternative, hands still folded on the table.

The way she looked at the sandwich in some kind of locked mental debate had him raise an eyebrow slightly until she practically swallowed the rest of it whole with quite the satisfied expression. A soft grin of approval stretched along his features and he relaxed his posture back down to where it had been throughout the duration of their casual lunch. He had plenty of early 20's women in and out of his lecture room every day that frequently pulled out their phones to check apps and had sectioned-off lunch boxes with measured portions. He knew that 'debating' look.

While she spoke about her brother, he found himself both smirking and slightly overwhelmed. Her energy and adoration was endearing, but to hear that their mother was levels beyond that was quite something to try and imagine. Then again, mothers were stereotyped to be heavy on the whole 'start a family' chapter when their kids got older and it just sounded like Ashley's was the poster woman for it. Nothing wrong with that.

Hearing that she not only sang, but played instruments, had an impressed and enjoyable look lifting his features as he listened. Alistair could sing.. his nerves had just never been the right fit for the performance aspect, so he stuck to instrumental. He was nearly about to comment on her partial statement on bowed strings when the question came, catching him semi-off guard. "Cello, actually," he huffed ironically, head dipping down with a bashful weight, "Uhm... cello and piano. Well, I mean, among other things but mainly just cello and piano." With a small realization he shook his head and took a few mental steps backwards, looking up at her. "Did you want desert or anything?"

[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #d4d4d4;background: #6c9d73; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #6c9d73 0%, #6c9d73 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Open Sans][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass]

[Ashley McKenna-Chase]

String Theory

Ashley grinned, enjoying Alistair’s positive retort. “What can I say? I’m an impressive girl.” She jokingly flexed her arms to illustrate her point. It was a fair demonstration, in actual fact, because it was quite obvious that she was in shape. Her muscles weren’t large by any means, but they were well toned. For all that she was kidding around, her guns sure weren’t.

It felt like her modest musical CV had earned some kind of respect, which was nice. McKenna Chase was hardly publicised as the music geek that Ashley truly was at heart so she rarely got the opportunity to show off. She liked to mention the mandolin because it had been a gift from her high school music teacher. The guitar was definitely where she was most comfortable but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to branch out. As she’d said, she was definitely “okay” at the piano but she just didn’t click with it in the same way. Music was weirdly personal like that.

“Cello?” she echoed, eyes wide. “Man, that’s cool, I have got to hear you play some time. It’s a shame you can’t just pull one out your pocket, huh.” Despite herself, Ashley peeked over the table to make sure there wasn’t a cello poking out of his waistcoat.

The question caught her by surprise, and again she was disappointed with herself by the ensuing internal debate. Of course she wanted dessert.

“What does this place have? If it’s chocolate flavoured, count me in.”

ψ