Penny Stock Fortunes

I know its long, don’t read it if it bores you lol. It’s not finnished it’s just an intro to my fantasy/romance book. The main character; Sunny McDonald writes about her day in her blog. Please let me know what you think (btw some of it is meant to be in italics so it’s rather confusing).

Blood and Velvet
OMG I am so pissed right now!
As you know I have been keeping this blog for like EVER and then I find out that the website decides to go down taking all my previous blog posts with it. I have been posting my whole life on here for years, like a diary, and now it’s all vanished into cyberspace air. Grrrrrrrrr!!!
Okay, deep breath, Sunny. There’s nothing you can do about it except send threatening hate e-mail to blogfast.com. And end up being banned all together, better just deal with the fact that my past three years of blogs has just been deleted.
Major grrr, if you ask me.
Anyway last night I went to ‘Blood and Velvet’, and yes, that’s a gothic bar. My best friend in the world, Charlotte, black mailed me in going with her, despite all my complaining. She practically threatened to post my year seven photograph which is enough to send anyone running for days. In the photo I have spots and braces not to mention my hair; tied back into a ponytail with a full fringe that has a gap in the middle, (Worst photo in the world). I no longer look like that, thank god. I have blonde wavy hair and pale skin with a few freckles over my nose, and my eyes are light green mixed with brown. I’m no longer wearing braces and my spots have completely gone. My hair is still wavy but I’ve learnt to deal with it.
Charlotte agreed to pick me up at my house at 7pm giving me time to find an almost gothic outfit to wear. I searched through my wardrobe finding only two items of clothing that is black; a dress and a tank top. I decide to go with the tank top, as Charlotte had told me to keep it simple, I accessorized it with a skirt just above my knees and some stilettos. I threw on some jewelry and brushed my hair vigorously before leaving the house. I didn’t look gothic but at least I wouldn’t standout like a shiny penny.
When Charlotte picked me up in her silver ford (not the most flashiest of cars), I hardly recognized her wearing a black miniskirt with a wonder woman top and a white mask of makeup and eyeliner on. She ran up and hugged me, she owes me big time).
“Wow, I’ve never seen you in so much black” she cries.
“Tell me about it, this club better be worth the effort” I replied and held up my fingers on the ‘effort’ using sarcasm. Then we entered the car and drove off.
When we arrived at Blood and Velvet it was surprisingly crowded and almost everyone was plastered in gothic makeup and black stockings. Rachel went to get a drink and I walked onto the dance floor. I allowed myself to be completely taken over by the music, might as well make the most of it, because I know for a fact that I won’t be coming here again. Rachel joined me with our drinks and hours passed by.
I walked outside to get some fresh air as the smoke machines inside was making the air almost unbreathable. I found a ‘comfortable’ looking bench, A.K.A one without chewing gum plastered all over it, and to my amazement, I was actually enjoying myself at the gothic bar.
“Good evening.”
I look up and my gaze falls on the most gorgeous pair of eyes I’ve ever seen in my sixteen years on the planet. They are literally the colour of sapphires. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of blue eyes in my day, but nothing like these. Better yet, the eyes are attached to a face equally amazing. I quickly take stock: smooth skin, high cheekbones, sooty black eyelashes, short blonde hair. He looks like a blue-eyed Orlando Bloom. Best of all, unlike the other Gothed-out club kids; he isn’t wearing a stitch of black. Just a simple tight white T-shirt and a pair of low-rise jeans. No eyeliner either, thank goodness. I scan the area, sure that "Orlando" must be speaking to someone other than me. Some supermodel to my right, perhaps. But I see no one in the general vicinity.

“Hey,” I reply, regretting it instantly; my voice sounds so squeaky that anyone could mix me up with Minnie mouse. Instead of replying, the guy reaches out and presses his palm against my cheek. His skin is cool, but his touch scorches my skin. His eyes study my face, then roam my body and I suddenly feel naked under his glare. I give an involuntary shiver and I can feel goose bumps popping up all over my arms. Wow. I can’t remember the last time a guy gave me actual goose bumps! Maybe never. I know I should be questioning why this random guy has approached me in a nightclub and evidently feels it’s no big deal to reach out and touch me so intimately, but I can’t find the words to voice any objections.

I can see his lips speaking but I cannot tell what he is saying over the loud music, he realizes and takes my hand, leading me further away from