As she was walking one of her closest friends, Tom caught up to her and started his own conversation into why Rachel was so against Morgan. It was a almost daily ritual, he would have an idea why Rachel didn’t like the popular, beautiful new girl and Rachel would give a sarcastic reply.“I think the reason you don’t get on with her is because you and her are more alike you than you want to admit.”“Oh yes! We are both blonde, quite attractive and female. Wow, we might as well be sisters! Lets go out on a shopping trip together. Yay!.” Rachel exclaimed in as sarcastic attitude as she could muster complete with fake excited clapping. “That girl is nothing like me, she is just a common American who hasn’t learnt her place in British society yet, and I’m top class.”“God, you really are a snobby posh rich bitch!” laughed Tom as Rachel walked into Paul’s office, giving him the finger as she went.Rachel and Paul chatted for about ten minutes about nothing in particular, just general small. And Rachel understood, in a moment, in an instant. Love. He took her hand and began to kiss it softly, holding it against the smooth skin of his shaven cheek. He took her other hand and pressed it together with the first, locking them together in silent prayer and sealing them with kisses. Holding her clasped hands in one of his, he pulled her toward him, laying her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, and closed his eyes, rocking slowly back and forth. The day was warm, and Donald removed the dark jacket he had worn for the ceremony. Suddenly, Rachel was worried about her dress. She tried to jump up, but Donald held her, commenting, ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it later. You look so beautiful in it. Lie down.’ So she reclined on the blanket, and Donald propped himself on his arm, leaning over her with his other arm for support. He placed his lips to Rachel’s, watching her eyes. She stared back at him. ‘Close your eyes. Relax,’ he murmured, kissing her.
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