Creative Misspellings and Rude Introductions

Frank ran a hand through his unwashed black hair

"Shit," He said quietly, waving a quick goodbye to Patrick and striding his way outside. He looked at the classic maroon '72 Dodge Charger he owned in the parking lot, a vanity-plate reading Ier0 donning the back. This car was his baby. He felt like he was...cheating on her, looking at the Trans-AM from earlier that way. But damn...It was gorgeous! His thoughts took a dark and secretive turn, his face taking on a light shade of pink, and for a moment, he thought he wanted to have sex with the angry red-head in back seat- Wait, no! Stop! Don't think like that! Frank was mentally slapping himself. He shook the thoughts away, opened the driver side door, and drove home a bit quicker than he should've. He narrowly escaped a rough encounter with a burly police officer walking a German Shepard on the sidewalk. He sighed quietly, and was home. His thoughts were racing with the image of the red-haired man. Then, to his car. He wanted it...He wanted to be in the passenger seat while Gerard drove around New Jersey. He only hoped Gerard liked Misfits and Iron Maiden...

He was inside as soon as he stepped out of his car. He was desperate for something to get his mind off the man. So, he flicked on his iPod and put on Metallica. Every single line, somehow, made him think of Gerard. Odd, considering he was listening to The Four Horsemen.

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