Habit

In honour of my contest on my LJ blog, I give you my use of "habit" in a word-a-day entry.

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Jarina had the habit of biting her lip whenever Cole stood in her line of sight. He was so dreamily-awesome, with his strong features, clear skin, and that kind-of-but-not-quite beard. The boy was the prime example of swoonerific-yummy-goodness.

On this particular Tuesday, Jarina had spotted Cole walking outside after lunch. With twenty minutes left before the bell, she hurried to the nearest girls' washroom and checked out her hot-factor.

Hair- she quickly re-braided the long plait down her back, to kill the dishevelled look of post-boring-history-class frazzle.

Makeup - a quick re-application of lipstick and an extra plump to her mascara for that luscious-lashes-look.

Clothes - no stains, no wrinkles, but she couldn't do much more than that considering her single-mother's current state of I'm-so-broke-it-makes-me-cry-at-night.

Smile - a couple of practices (with teeth showing and without), finally settling on I'm-the-girl-next-door-plus-a-little-something-extra grin.

Good to go, she slung her book bag over her shoulder and headed outside to the field.

To her right, the smoke hole. Luckily Cole wasn't hanging there, because the last thing Jarina wanted to explain to her mother at dinner was why her clothes smelled like smoke. To her left, the grass-covered hill where a flock of students were lying on their backs, trying to rid themselves of the winter-pasties. And there, dead centre in the sun-bathing group, was Cole. He had taken his shirt off, and Jarina nearly yelped with delight.

Taking a deep breath, she strutted towards the strip of gravel at the bottom of the grass-covered hill, hoping to catch the eye of one stud-muffin.