

Title: L is for Life
Author: Queenie_Zan7
Rating: Teen
Summary: You can't drop out of Harvard, move in with your parents, and still have a life...or maybe you can?
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell or associated characters, the belong to writers and producers of the show.
Chapter 1: No Girls Allowed
I just saw him...and I knew. He was one of those untouchable people. A widower, whose wife died tragically 'before her time, extinguishing his star along with hers'. One of those men only messed with by women too desperate to see or women bursting with enough 'femininity' to try and push him into something with their attributes and charm. 'Probably baked goods, too. Hussies...'
He was the type that end up madly in love with some gorgeous woman years later, only I wasn't gorgeous and he no doubt still loved his wife. And then and there I decided to leave him alone. Not to bother him with my pathetic attempts, although they might've been too pathetic for him to notice the way my life so far indicated.
I'd be friendly but distant.
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Chapter 2: Glutton for punishment
'I'm a glutton for punishment.' I just nodded my head when he slid into my booth, explaining that he was grateful to find someone that wasn't always staring at him or trying to weasel into his pants. He went on, asking if we could be friends...and like I said, I just nodded. Nodded, and bit my lip to contain my smile and at the same time punish myself for my stupidity.
He was like the last cookie...you know, the one you meant to save out of love for somebody else, but just couldn't help yourself? Well, I meant to save my heart, but the tiniest little hopeless romantic part got in there and screwed it up for me. The saddest thing was as he kept talking all I could think of was what kind of cookie he would be. I was a chocolate chip girl, especially the double chocolate, but it had always bummed me out that some idiot ruined perfectly delicious oatmeal cookies by adding raisins. 'Oh, Max. My oatmeal cookie.'
He put his hand over mine when I blushed moments later, thinking he'd embarrassed me. He might've though, 'cause I still only had a vague clue of what he'd actually been saying. Making some lame excuse about work, I slid out of the booth with a wave. Only when I was safely behind the double doors did I succumb to my desire. The lockers felt wonderful against my head as I mumbled "stupid" for the next 30 seconds or so.
'I love my life.'
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Chapter 3: Home, Sweet Home
I'm sure you're wondering how I ended up a sarcastic 28 year old, living with and working for my parents. Well, I didn't plan it this way. Far to the contrary, as all through high school I ignored everything that didn't have to do with academics. There was that year of Chorus to appear 'well-rounded', but I would never been caught out past 10:00 pm unless it was school-related. I'm almost certain that if I'd never known Maria I never would have seen the world outside my textbooks.
I graduated with a 4.675 GPA, (that's weighted for thos of you idiots going wtf?). I went to Harvard to pursue my career as a molecular biologist and 1 semester later I ended up home. I, Liz Parker, failed out of college.
My parents, the loving people they are graciously moved me back in at home and let me wallow approximately three days before shoving my old order in my hands, saying simply, "Life goes on, Lizzie."
It was an easy statement for them to make because neither one of them failed all of their semester exams because they couldn't concentrate with the image of their drunk boyfriend naked on top of their equally drunk and naked roomate burned into their brains. And seeing as my dad has never had a boyfriend in his life, I am especially sure he did not knoe how I was feeling.
They were right though, as I did pick up my order pad and later enrolled in an online business college for restaurant management. Leave it to my dad to remind me that when he dies, "which could be soon, Lizzie. Who knows? Soemone has to take over The Crash."
So, that is more or less the story of how I got here: bitter female resident of Roswell, NM, assistant manager of The Crashdown, non-graduate of Harvard, official president of the 'How the frick did my life end up like this?' Club.
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