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Ten college students get lessons in life, love, and lust. *OPEN SPOT* |
| [Introduction]
THE CHARACTER OF JAMIE IS NOW OPEN. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I began this campfire last year under my former writing.com account, but things got too hectic with school at that point for me to focus on it. I've decided to try it again with a new cast of characters. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- College: An institution of higher learning that grants the bachelor's degree in liberal arts or science or both. Wilkinson Unversity: The premier party school on the continental east coast. Wilkinson University is located just ouside of Boston, Massachusetts. It is here that many Bostonians choose to go, as well as anybody looking for a good time. For ten students, college isn't just about the future employment opportunity. It's about the make-up, hook-ups, and break-ups. It's about the 'booze, the tunes, and the hotties.' For these ten college students, ranging from freshmen to seniors, it's all about lust, love, heartbreak, and revenge. -------------------------------------- Character Bios First off, I want there to be an even distribution of guys and gals. When you accept the invitation, let me know what sex you'd prefer to be, and I'll make sure to put you in the spot. Character bios will be posted as your first entries. In your bio, please include: Name: Age: Year: (freshman, sophomore, junior, senior) Major: Main club/sport in which involved: Appearance: Personality: Current Status: (relationships) Additional information: (not necessary) ***Please, try not to make all of the characters seem the same. There can only be so many skinny, big busted girls with long blonde hair and sky blue eyes.*** And please be specific. These bios should be more than: "She is tall. She is mean. She likes music." NEW! ****Also, I encourage you to establish connections with other characters while writing your own bios. These people will all be connected in some way eventually, so having established relationships is helpful to getting the campfire off the ground. --------------------------------------------------------------- GENERAL RULES I want to keep this campfire has realistic as possible, and therefore will only be imposing one rule. This campfire is rated 18+, and I have no problem with the content of your additions reflecting that rating. I encourage you to establish your own boundaries in your writing. There is no censorship here. Rule #1. No character shall kill another character. ***You have 3 days in which to make an addition. You will be skipped if you do not contact me requesting more time.*** |
Name: Rozalyn “Roz” Amberton Age: 20 Year: Junior Major: Film Studies Main club/sport in which involved: College Filmmakers Appearance: Rozalyn takes on traits from her Latina mother and white father. She stands at an average 5’6”. She has a nicely feminine shape, but is carrying around a couple of extra pounds. She’s tan and curvaceous like her mother, but brown-haired and green-eyed like her father. Her hair flows to mid-back in thick, messy waves. Rozalyn dresses very casually, and is usually seen in jeans and tighter fitting tee-shirts that she’s cut up to make fit her perfectly. She does dress it up once in awhile and adores denim. Roz has a tattoo of a small rose on her upper thigh that only the lucky ones get to see as well as eight piercings. Her ears are pierced three times each, the cartilage on her left ear is pierced, and she has a stud in the left side of her nose. Personality: Rozalyn is confident. She’s not stick thin, and she’s happy with that. She feels that she is a sexy, vibrant young woman, and her extra weight doesn't get the disapproval from too many men. Her vices are alcohol and casual sex, and she's in no hurry to change that. Aside from Rozalyn’s social nature, she laid-back, spunky, and independent, but sometimes can get hot tempered. She’s willing to befriend anybody, but if you screw up, you rarely get a second chance. Roz isn't incredibly book smart and was never big on studying. She is, however, street wise. She also exudes creativity. Roz had been planning on going to film school for as long as she can remember, and she takes a great deal of pride in what films she's created thus far. Current Status: She’s not currently attached to anybody in particular, but there is a man in Rozalyn’s sights. Roz has done the ‘walk of shame’ on more than one occasion, and even though she enjoys meeting new people, she wouldn’t mind a steady relationship. Additional information: Rozalyn sings for a pseudo-punk mod rock band decently well known around campus. She plays a little guitar, too, but she prefers being on vocals. Also, Roz is currently developing her thesis film for her major. |
Name: Viviana Medley Age: 19 Year: sophomore Major: Fine arts Main club/sport in which involved: The swim club. Appearance: Viviana is always seen dressed in a black tutleneck and jeans. Hidden beneath the sweater is a slender body with soft curves. Viviana is taller than an average person for she stands at 175 cm. She has a smooth ivory complexion which she sometimes complained for being too fair. Her hair is straight and black, flowing down to her mid back. She might not be the average beauty, but Viviana stands out for her height and also the colour of her eyes. They were the colour of the sky on a sunny day but will darken to a stormy gray when she's angry. Personality: Viviana is not exactly a social butterfly. In fact, she'd only had her one and only full glass of beer when she turned 18. Quiet in temperament, Viviana unconsciously made enemies who resented her for her seemingly stuck up ways. Viviana can't care much for she's a person too involved in her arts. She sees art as a medium of expression of feelings she can never speak of. Therefore, all her paintings are of bright rich texture and colour. They are all in contrast with her dull appearance. Besides art, her second passion is swimming. One of her favourite past time is to just dive under the water and meditate on the floor of the pool. It is only in water that she can shut out the rest of the noisy world and concentrate on her inner self. If a person were to just take the time to talk with Vivana, they would discover a passionate nature in her that she kept hidden. Though the number of her friends could very well be counted on one hand, Viviana is comfortable with herself and walks with her head held high. Current Status: Single for she didn't spend time socializing with guys. Due to that fact, she will always be quesy and nervous in the presence of a guy. Additional information: She has a beautiful full blown smile that only a few had the good fortune to see. |
Name: Wyatt Summers Age: 20 Year: Junior Major: Criminal Justice Main club/sports: Football/creative writing Appearance: Wyatt is 5' 10" with a stocky build. He had hazel eyes and light-brown hair. He has a small goatee which he always keeps well-trimmed. Spiked hair and somewhat muscular. Personality: Unlike other jocks, Wyatt is caring of other peoples needs. He loves to read and write and does that when not playing football. His position is a Left Defensive End. He has played that position since high school. Is best known for the amount of sacks, 37, he obtained his senior year of high school. Current status: Single and looking for Mrs. Right. Hoping to find someone with true beauty. Additional info: Just got out of a rough relationship and is trying to bury the past. |
Name: Bernadette "Bernie" Terrace Age: 20 Year: Junior Major: Pre-Law Main club/sport: Society for Future Attorneys, Creative Writing, Honors Society Appearance: Bernie stands at 5'9 and is rather striking, especially since she's always in a nice skirt or pants suit and heels when she goes to class. They can be rather sexy, in a professional, covered-up kind've way, but she looks great in them. Other times, she's very laid back- jeans, sweaters, t-shirts, etc. Bernie is usually pretty covered up- she doesn't own a tank-top and only has a couple pairs of shorts- but she always looks impeccable. She has long, honey blonde hair that falls, straight, to about half way down her back; she usually has it up in a messy bun. Large, bright amber eyes are framed by dark blonde lashes and brows, and they tilt up slightly at the outer corners. She has palish, peach skin with just a touch of a sunkissed glow, and a spray of light freckles along her high cheekbones and the bridge of her nose (a slope, button mix). Her lips a full, with a light pink tint, and her smile is full and beautiful, though she is usually stoic. Though she is always covered, it is very clear that Bernie has a great body- she takes great pride in being physically fit and wonderfully feminine at the same time. She doesn't look like she should be an attorney, but she has a reserved quality in her look that is rather appealing. Personality: Bernie is very focused on her studies. She sometimes finds that she doesn't have any time for anything but her job (clerking at a local Law Office) and her class load, which is very heavy. Everything in life for her is duty and she is very loyal and dedicated to everything in her life that needs that kind of attention. Bernie is always very professional in everything she does, and has only recently begun lightening up. She had her first alcoholic beverage for her twentieth birthday and has taken up creative writing as a hobby. Bernie is a wonderfully kind and loyal, always thinking about the well being of her friends and loved ones; she loves to see everything in its place and that includes happiness for those people she loves. She is also rather quirky- when writing depositions for class, she likes to dance around her apartment in her underwear and a big sweater, belting out oldies at the top of her lungs. But Bernie is that typical nice girl that no one notices because she hides it behind icy professionalism. Current Status: Single. Perpetually. In fact, Bernie's never been out on a date. Or even been kissed by a guy. Guys are really intimidated by her focus and ambition. Additional information: She's living in an apartment off-campus because she comes from a wealthy family. And she drives a silver BMW Z3 convertible. Also, she is Pagan, but she rarely makes it a point to let people know about her faith. |
Name: Jamie Edwards Age: 19 Year: Sophomore Major: Physics Main club/sport in which involved: Fencing, Soccer Appearance: His extremely pale skin contrasts sharply with his deathly black hair and crystal blue eyes, though the image works well. His hair has a "short at the back, long at the front" style and hangs over his forehead, so he is always pushing it out of those eyes that more than one girl in the past has called "beautiful". He is tall, about 6'3, and slim. He has one ear pierced at the top, and a tattoo on his left bicep, which is strangely a small black monkey. He is athletic, as can be guessed from the clubs he belongs to, and this has given him a slight muscular tone. He tends to wear black polo shirts and jeans, though if he really wants to impress he knows how to look good in a suit. His other clothes tend to be shorts and a t-shirt for soccer, a full on fencing outfit for fencing, or a lab coat when he's in the labs for physics. Personality: He is definitely a ladies man, and most girls would describe him as "witty" or "charming". Most guys would describe him as "arrogant" or "irritating" but he's decided they are just jealous. He is very self confident and self assured, and tends to be laid back about most things and to encourage others not to worry. His best qualities are that he is very friendly to everyone and rarely holds a grudge against anyone. He's also very flirtatious and playful with pretty much any girl he meets. His main problem is with commitment- he has had several very brief relationships, but they never seem to last more than a week because he gets bored or decides the girl is not the one for him, so what's the point? Current Status: Currently, he tends to prefer one-night stands, no strings attatched, but has a large number of friends (mainly female) who he is very close to. If the right girl came along, he might be encouraged to commit. Additional information: One of his best friends is Roz. They met in the student union a year ago, and had a very brief romantic encounter which ended abruptly because they decided to preserve their friendsip. He sometimes wonders what might have hapened if they hadn't finished it... |
| Name:Tristan James Age:20 Year:Junior Major:Drama with a minor in economics Main club/sport in which involved:Drama Club,Ceative Writing,Swim Team/Club Appearance:Tristan stands at 6'1 and has a lean muscular body,from being on the swim team.His hair is a dark brown that is just cut past his chin.(and all the ladies love it)Tristan's eyes are a light green color with little specks of gold in them.(the ladies love those too)His style just consists of jeans,tee-shirts, and sometimes hats.Nothing to flashy or what you would call "outthere".He just tries to blend in where ever he goes.Calls himself "The American Orlando Bloom". Personality:He's really shy around people he doesn't know.but when he gets to know you he can really be a loudmouth.Tristan is very family oriented.He loves to hang out with friends and just have a good time.Sometimes he has a bit of a temper,he just says the anger for the punching bag at the gym.Overall very easygoing. Current Status:He's currently single and looking.His type of girl would be someone who can hold a converation with him and who he can be himself around. Additional information:Secretly loves to sing.Nobody knows it though. |
| Name Jim Thomson Age: 21 Year: Senior Major: Business Main club/sport in which involved: Apha Kappa Phi Fraternity Appearance: Tall with a crew cut and a sleazy smile. He wears Polo shirts, expensive Nikes, and in general tries to make himself look really good, at which he's excessively successful. He has a great body and a handsome face, with full, chiseled features and a strong chin. Personality: Jim's a total jerk, but women rarely see it until it's too late. He loves to party, to go out drinking and, on occasion, use other forms of drugs. Loud, in your face, and inconsiderate to all but those he thinks he might have sex with. Of course, he keeps all these nasty personality traits very well hidden. He doesn't particularly have a reputation, and most people who insist that he's a bad guy get ignored or disbelieved. Even so, he's interested in fulfilling his own desires, and damned with anyone who gets in his way. Current Status: Single, and lovin' it. Additional information: He doesn't bother with school teams, but he and his friends often go out and play ball, and he has gotten fairly good at many sports. |
| Name:Jessie Ryan Age:19 Year:Sophomore Major:Forensic Science Main club/sport in which involved:Creative Writing Club Appearance:5'7" 130lbs Short, dark blonde hair that is easy to care for, basically wash and wear. Green-brown hazel eyes. She has a pale complexion from her irish ancestry. She's not overly sure of her body but does get looks here and there. Her favorite clothes are cargo or carpenter jeans and shorts so that she can carry her car keys and cards in the leg pockets. She hates to carry a purse but she usually had her backpack in tow. Tennis shoes or sandals finish of her outfits. She rarely dresses up and there might possibly be a dress in her closet but it's highly unlikely. She wears glasses or contact depending on how late she is running. Personality:Shy until she gets to know people. A big change for her moving from Arizona to Massachusetts. She likes all kinds of music. She uses the music to help in her writing. her temper is fairly even but if pushed she will come undone. She's also not a big party girl but will go for a beer or two once in awhile. Current Status: Jessie was usually helping take care of her handicapped brother thus she hasn't had many dates and no one steady. Additional information: She is pagan and hopes that whoever she rooms with will accept that. |
"I just think you'd have a really good time if you came out tonight, Jamie-Jam. Please. Pretty, pretty, please? Pretty, pretty please with all the fucking cherries on top that you can imagine. I mean, there will probably be a lot of freshmen there." Roz often spent Thursday afternoons having conversations similar to this. On this afternoon - the first 'Thirsty Thursday' of the academic year - Roz was doing her best to convince Jamie to join her for a night of complete debauchery. Rozalyn always knew where the best parties were going to be. She could map out the suburbs of Boston based on which parties would have the best to drink and who would most likely be where. She was into harder liquor herself, but she'd be anywhere with a keg if the pickings were ripe. She needed to get laid. It was the sheer, unadulterated truth. It had been a few weeks for her, and she wasn't used to waiting around for it. Roz had had a couple of sexual encounters over the summer, but none since the end of July. It was now the 31st of August, and her prowess was taking over. Roz was forever thinking of her social life. She always made her schedule based on her party habits, and rarely what would make sense academically. She's never had more than one class on a Friday, and this semester she was clear of Friday classes completely. It's not to be implied that Roz didn't care about her school work, she just cared more about having fun. She considered her lifestyle to be her muse. Her short films often reflected concepts she'd thought up while completely trashed. She always makes sure to carry a notebook with her wherever she goes. Despite how intoxicated Roz gets, she usually remembers to write down anything that might be useable for her coursework. After getting Jamie to agree to hit up some parties with her that night, she hung up her phone and headed back to her apartment for a quick nap. She figured she'd be out late into the night, and depending on how things went, she would need a good supply of energy. Roz smiled at the thought of getting lucky tonight. She was such a guy, and she knew it. It made perfect sense that her best friends were all male. She never had brilliant luck with having females as friends. Roz often felt as though girls were judgemental of her actions. A part of her liked that, and another part felt as if judgemental people had no right being in her life. If Roz had her way, it was going to be one hell of a night. And Roz always gets her way. |
| Ah, there she goes again, Viviana thought. She was sitting under this huge tree by the side of the field, her usual hangout on a Thursday. From where she was sitting, she got a clear view of people moving in and out of the campus building. All these movement was perfect for her to practise her skill in capturing moving objects on paper. This was her favourite spot at dusk. The light's perfect at this time of the day if she wanted to capture the play of shadows in her sketches. Her muse seemed to have left her for the past hour she had been sitting there. She had only been doodling on her sketch pad. That was until she saw her. Her, meaning the ever flamboyant "Roz" Amberton. It was not as if Viviana knew her personally, but she had definitely heard stories about her around campus. It seemed where ever Roz went, people will pick on the things she did and let the gossip spread like bush fire. However, it was not the things she heard that made Viviana took interest in Roz. It was the way Roz move and the way she expressed herself in her gestures. Once, with the memory of Roz in mind, Viviana did an oil paint of her. She used all shades of red; some angry, some dark and some pouty. Her final product was an expression of bright fiery colours in shapes that represented her impression of Roz. Since then, she had always take a second look whenever Roz passed by. It was not some queer interest. Not at all. It was just that Roz gave her inspiration for her art. Come to think of it, there had been quite a number of people on campus that picked on her interest. Smiling slyly, Viviana thought of a certain someone she saw the other day at the pool. Just as quikly as her thoughts flickered away from Roz, they just as quickly returned to her. I wonder where she's going. |
| Wyatt jumped out of his seat when his CJ Administration professor finally dismissed them from class. He liked his professor, it was just Wyatt was ready to enjoy his long weekend. No work or school until Monday, Wyatt felt the need to get out and meet some girls, single life sucked. As he walked down the halls toward the exit, numerous girls from campus and other classes he was in gave him a seductive smile, or a shy one. He preferred the shy smiles, it meant they actually liked him. The others just wanted to know if he was a good lay. He knew he could have his pick of any single girl on campus, but he was trying to find the right one. That's why he hated himself. He hated being single, but he wanted to make sure the girl he dated wouldn't end up like the last one. He currently took interest in one girl, Viviana Medley, but she seemed to be the only girl on campus that ignored him, or at least pretended to. Wyatt found this quite attractive, and probably why he made it a point to talk to her in the U.S. History class. But Roz was also a piece. She tried everything in her power to see what Wyatt was like. But he just showed himself off the way he did with everybody else. No time to ponder, Wyatt decided. He was going to practice. he felt excited. Rivalry against South Central Boston was this weekend, and he knew they would be the toughest game of the season. But Wilkinson was 4-0 going into the game. SCB was 3-1. He liked Wilkinson's chances. But who to ask to the pregame dance. |
| Her printer was likely to die at this point. Hell, Bernie was surprised that it hadn't started spewing fire in a fit of rage, or cursed at her in five different languages. Though, after all the work she'd put into this particular thirty-page theoretical analysis, if the printer had shouted merde at her, she probably would've agreed. Three sleepless nights, three trips to Starbucks a day, and lots of Micky Ds take-out had brought Bernie to her weekend. And, when her poor printer spit out the last sheet- a title page- her Democratic Theory mid-term was finally done. She clipped the monstrosity- her poor stapler would never get through thirty pieces of computer- and put it in her attache case before stretching and doing a bit of a giddy dance. Standing in nothing but an oversized sweater, some boyshort underwear, and socks, Bernie did a pretty fair Tom Cruise impersonation, laughing as she slid across the hardwood floors of her apartment. Alone, or not, Bernie was excited; her paper was the culmination of months of hard work, and now it was done. She could open a pint of Ben and Jerrys and veg out that night, curled up on the couch with a good movie and a glass of champagne. A ringing broke through Bernie's musicless dance performance, pulling her out of a frivolous reverie. The apartment phone was ringing. Bernie stopped and looked at it for a moment- that meant only one thing. Someone was looking for a roommate off-campus and had seen Bernie's flier. Bernie had posted in the student union- looking for a low-key, easy-going female who didn't smoke and didn't mind sharing in household chores. Bernie didn't need a roommate- she could afford the cost of living very easily- but she found that sometimes she wished she had one. So she posted the flier. She sighed and picked up the phone. "Hello? Bernie Terrace here." "Bernie? Hey, it's...um...Jessie Ryan? I'm in the Creative Writing club with you...And your Presidency class." The voice was hesitent and shy, as if the speaker had made a great personal effort just to pick up the phone and dial the number. And, if the person speaking was who Bernie thought it was, than picking up the phone had been an effort. "Yes, of course! What can I do for you, Jessie?" Bernie fingered her pentagram, running the hematite stone at the center of the star through her fingers. People rarely saw the necklace- she usually hid it beneath her shirts- but it gave Bernie a lot of comfort. She was Pagan- and it was something important to her. "I was calling about the flier you put up about looking for a roommate? I'm looking for a new place to live because of some problems with my old roommates and I thought yours would be a good place to start." Bernie smiled. She could almost hear Jessie crunch her face in consternation. "Of course! You don't have a problem with $650 a month? That includes everything, and is mostly for the upkeep of the apartment and stuff. There's a pool, you'd have your own room and bathroom and we're close enough to campus that you can ride a bike if you didn't want to drive. No pets, unfortunately, but it's definitely a good place to live. Hardwood floors throughout, the room is pre-furnished, but left mostly undecorated so you can do that on your own, and there's a really nice kitchen. And a balcony. Am I forgetting anything?" There was a pause. "Can I come and see it first?" Bernie laughed; it was free and unfettered, a nice laugh that made a person want to get to know her. She rarely used it, but Bernie liked to let go once in a while. "Of course. Just wanted to save you the trip if you had a problem. We can talk about other stuff- like house upkeep and schedule- at a live meeting. Is there anything you want to ask about before that meeting?" "Yeah." There was another pause and the sound of someone swallowing hard. "Before I come, I thought you might as well know, should this be a problem. I'm Pagan." Bernie chuckled again. "No problem, hun. We can share my altar come the Sabbats." "You're Pagan, too?" Jessie sounded shocked. "I've not met another one on campus yet! I can't believe it!" "There's a few of us around. Just have to know where to look, is all. So...erm...when can you come around? Maybe tomorrow? Unless you have class scheduled for Friday?" Friday was Bernie's day off. On any other day, she had at least two or three hours of work or class or something else she had to attend to. Fun wasn't something Bernie knew very much of. "Actually...I'm going to the pre-game dance tonight- for the football game. If you wanna go, too, we could hang out there for a while and then check out the apartment afterwards? I kinda need to find a place as soon as possible." Bernie looked at the clock. "It's in an hour, right?" "Yeah." Jessie sounded hopeful. "No problem. I'll meet you out front in an hour-and-a-half. Gotta be fashionably late, of course, darling." Bernie laughed and pulled her honey blonde hair out of the tight bun she kept it in, shaking her hair slightly and sending it cascading over her shoulders. "I'll see you there, alright?" "Sure! Great! See you later, Bernie! Bye!" "Bye!" Bernie waited for Jessie to hang up and placed the book on the cradle. "Crap. An hour to get ready for a friggen dance. I don't go to dances. I haven't been to a dance since high school! Crap crap crap!" She ran toward her closet, looking for a dress to wear. Nothing too work-space, but nothing too short. She didn't want the wrong kind of attention. Bernie eventually settled on a mid-thigh length strapless red dress; it was plain and unadorned, but Bernie had plenty of jewelry to accessorize. After a shower and some sort of hair intervention, she could figure that out. "Crap. I hate dances." She ran into the shower, almost slipping as she stepped in, and laughing at her own clumbsiness. "What a way to spend a Thursday night. There go Ben and Jerry..." |
| Jamie put down the phone and stretched out his arms, cracking his knuckles, and smiled. He loved those conversations with Roz, where she tried to 'persuade' him to come to a party. He didn't really need any persuasion, but he liked to trail it out- "Oh, I'm not sure, I mean I got a lot of stuff on and shit like that," he always let her talk him in to it. She was probably his best friend, though he would never acknowledge it to her. He lay back on the couch, and thought of all the young, drunken, naive girls he'd meet. He had a certain standard of drunk girl he liked to go for at parties. A little more than tipsy, he liked them giggly and fun, but not totally hammered and throwing up everywhere and then probably falling asleep before he even saw any action. Of course, these "standards" were a secret, he never even told Roz. There was one person he told though... He reached out and picked up the phone, and called the guy who constituted pretty much his only male friend. The phone rang about twenty times before Jim picked up. Jim stayed at a frat house, and at this time of year they probably had parties of their own going on, but Jamie knew he'd want to know if there were other parties going on, especially if Roz was going. Jim had always had a bit of a thing going for Roz- really, he just wanted to score with her, saw her as a challenge. "Hey asshole," Jamie said when Jim finally picked up. "Hey fucker," Jim replied, not missing a beat. "What do you want?" "My summer was great thanks, nice of you to ask, I'm doing dandy," Jamie continued, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Anyway, didn't just call to chat. There's a couple of parties tonight, freshmen will be involved. If you would like to tag along, the offer's there." "Thanks for the invite dickhead but in case you forgot I stay in a frat house. You think I'll be short of young hot freshmen?" "I wasn't talking about guys," Jamie laughed. "Anyway, Roz will be there. But I don't give a crap, come or don't come, I know I'd beat you anyway." He hung up, sure in the knowledge that Jim would be unable to resist a challenge. Since they had met, Jim and Jamie had played a game, rating every girl in a party and then scoring points. Girls could be rated 1- total minger to 5- absolute goddess. So for a girl who was 1, you got 1 point for every step you got with them, one for kiss, one for you touching them, one for them touching you etc. If the girl was two you got two points for everything you did and so on. The two guys were very competetive over the game. Jamie got up, and decided to go for a shower. Better start getting ready, it could well be the most productive night of the year... |
| "So, who was up last count?" Jamie asked idly as he walked down the sidewalk with Jim. "You, but only because your mom's just a one." Jamie didn't loose a beat. "Are you sure it was my mom, and not your hand?" "Pretty sure. My hand never moans and screams my name over and over again. Besides, I'm not a one like your ugly ass mom, I'm a fuckin five." "Good thing we decided your hand doesn't count, then. I'm too busy with women to get anywhere as much practice on myself as you do." The two stepped onto the lawn and moved toward the house. They could hear the sounds of the party inside. A heavy bass was jarring the windows and there were people everywhere. "Hey," Jim continued, "someone's gotta keep me satisfied. Your mom's always good for a lay, but she can't handle the likes of me." Jamie was about to respond, but it was just then that he saw Roz and waved to her. She was, as usual, talking to some guy. Jim grinned. He knew Roz casually, and knew more from talking to Jamie, and he was sure he knew enough to know she was probably just looking for a lay. He grinned. The solution was simple, and his plan had already begun to take shape. He would ignore her completely over the course of the night, but keep half an eye on her the whole time. Then he would, using different methods, somehow distract them from her. He would threaten the weaker ones when Roz wasn't around, ask some of the girls he knew to distract them away from Roz, and maybe Jamie would even help a bit, so she wouldn't get suspicious of Jim. Then, as the night wore on and she got more alcohol in her, she would get more and more desperate, and eventually she would jump at the chance to crawl into bed with anyone, and Jim would be there to save the day. He might even be able to make her beg a little, acting like he didn't really want to that badly. Some would criticize such tactics, but Jim knew that no lines would work on this girl. Besides, desperation had a certain... appeal to it. Jim smiled. With hard work, and a bit of luck, he would have her at his beck and call by the end of the night. His gaze wandered, and his eyes fell on a girl who was looking in Roz's direction. Of course, he would need something to distract him in the meanwhile. "Hey," he said to Jamie, "did we ever decide how many points you get for threesomes?" "What," Jamie asked, but Jim was already moving toward the girl. She was tall, and beautifully pale, but Jim couldn't actually tell how her body was because she was covered with long jeans and a turtleneck. That was okay. Jim always found a certain appeal to not knowing. There was a certain thrill to the risk of being caught with a complete hag. It was like opening your Christmas present as a child and not knowing whether you were going to get an action figure or socks. Jim confidently walked up to her. His smile was striking, but not over the top, and his eyes, which he had been complimented on many times, were full of sympathy and feeling. Jim was never one for sleazy lines. He just acted naturally and tried to get a connection going. He could tell by her lost expression that he probably shouldn't come on to strong with this girl, but rather be sensitive and polite, but not so much that he couldn't change his tactics if needed. Jim's mind raced as it was filled with the night's possibilities. He made his move. |
| Jessie waited for Bernie on the front steps of the building where the dance was. Watching couples and singles move up the stairs and through the doors, she smiled and waved at the few she recognized. Her roomates had gone to a party instead of coming here. She'd grown to hate them as much as they did her. Jessi wore a hooded red sweater and a pair of black cargo pants, kind of like what a member of a SWAT team might wear. She smiled to herself, knowing she should probably break down and buy a dress. Fingering her dragon pentacle nervously she watched for Bernie. Come on, hurry, she said silently. "Hey, Jessie," A male voice startled her. "What are ya doing out here?" "Hey, Wyatt," Jessie greeted him. He was in some of her classes and the creative writing club. "I'm waiting for Bernie, she is meeting me here. I may be her roommate shortly." The girl on his arm shifted impatiently but didn't say anything. "Oh, well, see ya inside," Wyatt and his date moved up the stairs and through the doors. Jessie sighed, why didn't a guy ever ask her to a dance. She'd gone stag to every dance in high school. Prom, well she had a date, but wished she hadn't, When Jessie saw Bernie coming down the sidewalk, she knew a dress should be a definite staple in her closet. Compared to the taller girl, she was way underdressed. "Hey, Jessie, you been waiting long?" Bernie asked as she approached. "Not too long. You look fabulous." Jessie answered. "Wow, I think I'm overdressed," stated Bernie "Nah, I'm underdressed. There isn't a dress or skirt in my closet. Never had a use for them," Jessie laughed. "Well, let's go in," said Bernie. She seemed a little nervous to Jessie. "You don't usually go to these do you?" Jessie asked. "No, you?" "No, I was kind of forcing myself to come. When you said you'd meet me here I was relieved. I am trying to get out and meet people but it's so hard." They made their way up the stairs and followed the loud music. The huge room was pounding with a fast beat. The center of the room was open for dancing and the edge of the room was crowded with tables and chairs. Jessi saw Wyatt and his date sitting a tabe with another guy from the Creative Writing. Tristan, she thought his name was. He wasn't in any other classes with her, his major was drama. She was surprised to see him sitting with Wyatt at first, then remembered Wyatt's open attitude towards everyone. He waved them over and they pushed their way through the crowd to the table. "Hi again, Jessie. Bernie, you look great! You guys remember Tristan from Creative Writing don't you?" "Yes of course, hello Tristan," Bernie held her hand out. Tristan took it and gave a little shake. Jessie smiled and nodded. Tristan was quite handsome but then, so was Wyatt. Her heart thudded in her heart as she sat down. Bernie took a chair next to her. "I've been thinking," Jessie practically shouted above the music after she got Bernie's attention. "I'll take the room. I don't need to see it." "Ok, you can move in tomorrow, is that soon enough?" "Yeah, you need my rent right away?" "Just half, since it's the middle of the month." "Ok." Wyatt and hid date went to dance and left Tristan with Bernie and Jessie. |
| "Find any prospects yet?" Roz asked Jamie when they met up at the Kool-Aid/Vodka punch bowl. Jamie eyed up a couple young passerby as he took a cup of punch from Roz. "Mmmhmm. You?" Roz looked off across the kitchen towards Jamie's good pal Jim. He had always caught her eye - mostly because he reminded her of herself. She'd heard wild stories about Jim Thomson since she'd started at Wilkinson a few years back, and they'd always left her extremely curious. With a casual toss of her hair, Roz responded, "I've got my eyes open." She downed her plastic cup of punch and tossed it onto the counter. "Good luck, Jamie-Jam. I trust you'll tell me all about your conquests tomorrow?" "Of course," he replied. He grabbed the ladle in the punch bowl and filled up another cup for Rozalyn. "Here." "I'd like to propose a toast," Roz said after taking the cup from Jamie. "To debauchery and wasting Mommy and Daddy's money." "To cheap liquor and pornography." The two crashed cups and parted ways with matching smiles. As the night progressed and the alcohol diminished, Roz found herself alone on the living room couch sulking in subtle defeat. Nobody. Not a one. She'd been at this party for at least two hours and hadn't had any classic 'Wanna go back to my place?' offers. If it was one thing that Roz truly wanted out of this night, it was a poorly prepared ill attempt at getting in her pants. Or skirt, rather. She desperately wanted somebody attempting to get into her pants. Have I lost it? Have I lost my game? she asked herself. Roz looked over what she was wearing: her favorite denim mini-skirt - it hugged her hips perfectly, and showed off her killer tan legs - a chest-hugging black scoop-neck tank top, and her infamous handcuff necklace. That handcuff necklace usually got Roz one offer alone. Usually from a kinky sonuvabitch who took the handcuff idea quite literally - but an offer nonetheless. Roz looked down at the coffee table to see some empty shot glasses and a half empty bottle of some mystery liquor. The label had been torn off, but Roz was too depressed to really care. She picked up the bottle, filled all six of the shotglasses and began downing them one after the next. "Shit-faced, here I come." |
| Leaning against the wall with her arm crossed, Viviana surveyed the people in the room. She saw most of them before on campus but could hardly point out any she knew. Truth be told, she didn’t know what she’s doing here. Partying was not really her thing. Carefully, she slid a glance over at where Tristan was sitting with a friend of his. Wyatt, his name was. Tristan had introduced her to him when they came in together. He was here with a date, quite pretty also. Tonight was not what she had planned to do. Normally, she’d just stay in the room, eat leftover pizza and finish some work. She did have this new art project that she didn’t know how to start. The project was to find a male model and build a collection of sketches on the model. The sketches would have to concentrate on every aspect of the subject, from profile of the face to full length body. Sketching, was one thing Viviana could do with eyes closed. But not choosing a male model. She didn’t even know enough guys to come up with anyone who would spend days around her for her to finish the project. She was contemplating this problem on the field when Tristan walked up to her. Her heart had skipped a beat when Tristan squatted down from where she was sitting. She knew him from the swim club they were in together. Tristan was a strong swimmer and Vivana had always admired the way he could rule the pool. He had asked her if she could go to this party with him. It was like a last minute thing and he didn’t want to turn up alone. Viviana knew she should be insulted or mildly annoyed that he was only talking to her because he had no date for a party, and a last minute one to boot. One the other hand, she knew that this was the perfect chance for to look for a male model. Or more specifically, asked Tristan to be her model. She knew that he had this perfect muscular body that she had always been itching to draw. Not to mention she could openly looked at him without restraint, all in the name of art. This might just be the chance for her to ask him. And what a chance it was, Viviana thought grudgingly. The moment they had arrived, assuming she would want to mix around with her own friends, he had left her alone to fend for herself. She had no heart to tell him that the little friends she had would never got invitation to parties like this. Or closer to the truth, she was reluctant to show him that she was not as sociable as he would like to think she was. Looking over to where he was sitting with Wyatt yet again, she frowned when two girls sat down with them. They were both really pretty but dressed in contrasting fashion. One was stylishly dressed and the other one really casual. Viviana nearly grinned, so she was not the only one not dressed for the occasion. Sighing, she scanned the crowd again. Maybe she’d do better if she looked elsewhere for a prospective candidate. “Hey, alone?” She looked up and saw this guy with a very charming smile. His eyes were so warm that she couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you see anyone else here with me?” He grinned. “A pity, really, for a pretty girl like you standing all alone here like this.” She knew it was just a line. Really a cliché, in fact. But he said it in such a way that she nearly, nearly believed that he meant it. She was bored up to this point, why not let herself be entertained? “Couldn’t be that bad now,” she said. “Jim Thomson,” he said, holding a hand out. Very formal, an act? Putting her hand on his, she said, “Viviana Medley.” Giving her hand a short pump, he released her. “I haven’t seen you around campus.” “I major in the arts, so I’m mostly in the art room.” “Ah, I see. Busy lately? Beginning of the year, projects must be piling.” “In fact, yeah, kind of.” “Would love to be of any help,” he said. “You know, do you think - ” “Do you mean it?” she cut in before he could finish his sentence. He took a step back. Seemingly surprised by her sudden enthusiasm. Carefully, he nodded. Maybe this is a sign. She had intended for Tristan to b her model but since he’s too busy for her, this guy will do. She rubbed her hands together. “Do you mind?” “Mind?” he asked, frowning. He must think she was a psycho. “Me, touching you.” “Uh…” She arched an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’re shy.” If that’s the case, she couldn’t use him, she needed someone who’s not so self-conscious. It seemed as if her words were a challenge to him, for he stood straighter and the frown was gone from his face. “Of course I’m not shy.” “Well then.” Putting two fingers under his chin, she turned his head to the side, admiring his profile. Then turning his head to face the front again, she traced her index finger over the bridge of his nose. Slightly bumpy, but will do. Her finger slid down to trace his lips and then to his strong chin, “Nice chin.” He smiled, curving his lips. Amused, he said, “That’s what people keep telling me.” She looked into his twinkling eyes and quickly dropped her hand. It must look strange for her to stand here in an open room touching a guy. But when it came to art, she’d lose all sense of propriety. “You mean it right, that you’ll help me?” He smiled. “Sure.” Someone touched her lightly on the elbow, so she turned and saw Tristan standing beside her. “Hey, we’re leaving now,” he said, gesturing to where Wyatt and the three girls waiting by the door. “Are you coming?” he asked, casting an uneasy look at Jim. She didn’t understand his uneasiness. “Yeah, sure, but give me a minute, will you?” Nodding, he left her. “Do you have a pen?” she asked Jim. He took one out from his pocket and handed it over to her. She looked at him closely once more, contemplating her decision. He’s good looking, and certainly nice enough. She shrugged, if it didn’t work out she could always start from scratch again. Taking his hand in hers, she turned it palm up. She scribbled her address on his palm. He had good hands. She’d enjoy drawing them, she’s sure. Returning his pen to him, she said, “That’s my address and don’t worry, I have the whole place to myself. No room mate to bother us. So drop by tomorrow evening.” He looked at his palm, his confusion clearly on his face. Getting a little worried herself, she said, “You did say you’ll help me. Is it okay?” He looked at her, his grin back in its place. “Okay.” Nodding, she backed away and hurried to where Tristan was waiting. “You alright?” Tristan asked as they left the place. “Of course,” she said, smiling. |
| Wyatt excused himself from the table, ensuring that none of the girls followed him. 'Jeez', he thought,' I'm here ten minutes, and I've already got half the girls here asking me to dance with them.' It was a good thing he was friends with the majority of the guys here. He didn't understand it, back in high school, girls never fawned on him like this. True he had his share of dates, but not from so many. Or so clingy. If he was gonna dance, he wanted to find someone that he had to ask, not the other way around. Someone who might turn him down. He looked over to the corner from where his buddy and former co-captain of their high school football team, Jim Thompson, had just left. He saw Viviana Medley standing there, looking alone, yet kinda out of place. He walked over to her. "Care to dance?" he asked her. She gave him an awkward smile and took his hand, just as a slow song started up. |
| Bernie watched as Wyatt squired a girl out to the dance floor and smiled softly as the couple positioned themselves awkwardly into eachother's arms and began to rock to the slow rhythm of the song. The group had been about to leave, but a series of good songs had come on, urging them to stay and hunker down at a table in the back corner. Jessie, Bernie, and Tristan sat together, quietly conversing about pieces they'd been working on for the school's Literary Magazine and carefully sipping at the spiked punch. It was enjoyable, but Bernie was itching to do something; part of her hoped Tristan would ask her to dance and another part wanted to go home and plop down on the couch. She needed to do a little cleaning before Jessie moved in the next morning, and wanted to relax a little bit. However, if she admitted anything to herself, Bernie wanted Tristan to ask her to dance more than she wanted to go home. She didn't pine for him in any romantic sense- Bernie had never dated and had learned to push the idea of ever dating out of her heart and mind- but she really wanted to dance and he was the nearest male. He was cute, she was dressed to the nines, and she felt she deserved to be showed off. And, if Tristan's major was any indication, he would be a rather passable dancer. "Tristan, wanna dance?" she asked, deciding that waiting for him to ask was a stupid decision. "My feet are itchin to get to that dance floor." The question had taken the man unawares and he started, blinking silently for a moment. "Uh...sure. Of course, Bernie." Tristan stood and offered Bernie his hand, which she took and looped through his arm. "Jessie...you don't mind?" Bernie hoped her now-roommate would see Bernie's need to dance and not object to sitting alone for a few moments. "I won't go if you don't want to sit by yourself..." Jessie grinned and shook her head. "Nah, I'm fine! Go ahead and dance. I gotta think about moving tomorrow morning." She laughed and waved Bernie and Tristan away. Grinning back, Bernie and Tristan walked to the dance floor as the slow song stopped and a much livelier tune pumped out from the speakers. Bernie was a good dancer- years of lessons growing up had given her definite poise and lent a certain charming sophistication to her movements- and Tristan was no dunce at movement, either. It really was enjoyable to let loose after two weeks of steady work, and Bernie had to admit that leaving the house to have some fun was something she would have to do more often. Maybe spending her Fridays in front of the television in sweats wasn't the best idea. "Hey Bernie," Tristan said as their dance ended. "You're pretty good at that. You ever considered trying out for the school musical?" The thought of being on a stage horrified Bernie. She shook her head quickly. "Definitely not. I don't...uh...I don't have time to do the school musical. Work and all." Tristan looked disappointed. "That's too bad, 'cause you'd fit right in. We're doing a dance heavy show this year and you've definitely got some good moves." "Oh? What show are you doing?" She might not want to be in the show, but Bernie loved theatre and wouldn't be against going to see the musical. Especially if Tristan would be in it. |
| "I have a piercing on my, how you say, my nepal? Would you like to see?" The tall slim Norwegian giggled, running her fingers through Jamie's hair. He gently pushed her hand off, and smiled in a way that was both charming and yet betrayed that he was slightly unnerved. "Um, I think you mean nipple... and maybe you can show me later, not here, in front of all these people," he replied. "I don't mind," she grinned, grabbing his arm with one hand and squeezing. "Look, I show!" With a flourish, she raised the little black top she was wearing to expose her breasts, showing very clearly the piercing she had mentioned. "Woah," said Jamie, ogling for a split second before he remembered himself. The two of them were standing in the middle of a busy room, and more than one person had turned to stare. He grabbed her top and jerked it back down. "While that was very nice Angelika, I don't think you should go baring your assets to every guy that fixes you a drink," he sighed. He hated these kinds of girls, the brash and brazen who always seemed so... easy. But on the other hand, he wondered how many points he'd get for that little display, the girl was at least a four. "I need to go find my friend," he told the girl, who simpered. "Oh, Jammy, you don't like me?" Aware that he probably should say something, but unable to think of anything, Jamie simply gave a sympathetic smile and picked his way across the room, looking for Jim. However, he stumbled on Roz first, sitting on the living room couch, and sat down beside her. "Hey chick, what happened to all that debauchery and pornography we were talking about earlier?" he sighed, taking a swig out of the nearest bottle and then recoiling at the taste. "Ugh, Sambuca. Have you been taking shots of this stuff?" It took a moment to realise that Roz wasn't really listening- she stared at him with slightly bleary eyes and giggled. "Ah, my friend, you are wasted!" Jamie grinned. Roz nodded and laughed a little, but then her smile turned into a frown. "Jamie, why does nobody want to sleep with me?" she murmured. "Oh, that's not true! I know for a fact that Jim Thompson has had his eye on you..." Jamie said, only to suddenly see Jim on the other side of the room, smiling at a dark haired girl in a black turtleneck. The girl was writing something on his palm- probably her number. "Ah, shit," Jamnie finished lamely. "Trust me Roz, there are lots of guys who'd love to spend the night with you. You're sexy, you're funny, you're sweet..." He trailed off, and tried to find some alcohol on the table before him- most of it seemed to have disappeared, probably down Roz's throat. "Is it just me, or does this party suck? Almost everyone has left and the people who are here seem really boring. What we need is a drinking game, or a party game, something to liven the spirits, what d'you reckon Roz?" She shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, but I need some fun." "What about... strip poker? Postman's knock?" Jamie said, routing out a half finished bottle of whisky and pouring himself a generous measure. "Spin the bottle?" Roz suggested. She seemed to be sobering up. "We could round up the people who are still here." "Yeah," mused Jamie, half drunk himself and gulping down more. "And if that doesn't work Roz, you know I'd never say no to a night with you." She just laughed and said "Sure Jamie Jam, like that would happen!" He laughed along and gave her a slight punch on the shoulder, muttering "only joking!", but felt somehow slightly upset by the remark. "Well, lets go see who we can round up then!" |
| “Spin the bottle? What are we, in high school?” Jim had a huge grin on his face as Roz and Jamie confronted him, “Don’t you usually have better things to do after parties?” Roz huffed. “Well, its been a dry night.” Jim shrugged. “Ah, same here.” “Wait, didn’t you get a number off of that one girl?” Jamie asked, with a mischievous grin on his face. Jim shot his friend a dirty look and said, “Well, ah, she’s one of those artist types, so there’s probably nothing there. She seemed more interesting in drawing me than putting out.” Roz sniggered. “She probably thinks that all those naked people were for art’s sake, and not just medieval porn.” Jim sucked in a breath, which caught in his chest. This was it. “So, then, Roz, why don’t you and me get out of here?” Roz hesitated for a moment, and Jim’s heart leapt into his throat. Then she smiled. “Yeah, sure. Just hold on a minute while I get my things.” Roz walked off and Jim grinned at her back. “Don’t wait up,” he said to Jamie, “Oh, and you’re a total wuss for turning down that Norwegian chick.” “Just because you don’t have standards,” Jamie quipped, “doesn’t mean I have to turn down everything that comes my way.” “I’d be careful how you talk about your mom.” “Yeah, yeah. It’s really not funny anymore.” Jim laughed, and walked to catch up with Roz. He stayed cool on the outside, but he could have been skipping for joy. He had been waiting years for this, and it was finally happening. It almost didn’t seem real. |
| Roz was ecstatic. Absolutely ecstatic. And drunk. Absolutely drunk. Lucky her, Roz could hold her liquor. She was going to get laid. And the bonus was that she was going to have an opportunity to fuck around with Jim Thomson. Jim intrigued Rozalyn so. He was the male version of her in so many ways, and Roz had always made a joke to her closest friends that if she ever had her the opportunity to have sex with her clone, she would. This was even better. Roz walked as best she could back to the living room to grab her purse and jacket. She opened up the cell phone pocket of her purse to make sure she was in good supply of protection. She always was. She looked up from her purse to see Jim walking towards her. She gave him a little lip-bitten smile and a teasing glare. Roz was well equipped with teasing glares. She has also had an amazing history of getting out of speeding and parking tickets. "Shall we?" she said motioning to the door. Jim smiled. "After you." Roz walked off to the door and shot Jamie a passing head nod as she and Jim left the house. For a split second Roz had to wonder what Jamie thought of the current situation. Roz never wanted Jamie's disapproval with anything. She hated disappointing people - Jamie especially. The split second ended, and Jim and Roz walked on down the sidewalk back towards campus. Roz came to a sudden hault after a few steps. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "What?" Jim asked, slightly eager and afraid. Roz stood staring at the '99 Cavalier parked on the street. "My car. My apartment's off the other side of campus, and I didn't feel like walking all the way over here earlier." Roz dug into her purse for her keys. She pulled them out and handed them to Jim. "You drive," she said. "My place - it's empty. My roommate's home for the weekend." Jim took the keys from Roz with a smile. He unlocked the doors via keyless entry, and opened the passenger door for Roz. Roz responded with a smile and plopped herself down in the seat. Jim got into the car and started it up, and the sounds of some obscure hip-hop came blasting out the stereo. He pushed the car into Drive, and off they went. It was about a four minute drive to Roz's apartment, but she didn't want to waste anytime. Roz wasn't one for talking in situations like these, so she let her hands speak her thoughts. Roz inched her hand onto Jim's thigh and walked her fingers ever so lightly from outer thigh to inner thigh. She pulled herself as close to him as the seats would allow, and leaned her face in towards his. She gently tugged at his earlobe with her teeth while continuing to walk her hand in between Jim's thigh. She could feel him tense up as he tried to keep his concentration on the road, but he let Roz continue without vocal interruption. Rozalyn loved to tease. She was damn good at it, too. Normally she'd wait until they at least pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, but Roz wanted to wow Jim. She wanted him to see her A game, and she was going to break out the big guns for him. "Wh-where do I have to turn again?" Jim finally said. He followed that with, "Mmmm. If you keep going like this I'll have nothing left when we get there." Roz took a quick break from her biting and kissing to squeeze in, "Left onto Hepner. Second lot on the right." Then she went right back to Jim's earlobe and neck. It didn't take them long to get to the apartment complex. Jim through the car in park, turned off the engine, and turned to Roz, crushing his lips into hers. His hands went every which way over her body, as hers did over his. Roz pulled herself away for second. "Upstairs. Come on." She grabbed her bag and got out of the car quickly. Jim followed close behind Roz as she practically jogged up to the door of her apartment. Jim still had the keys in hand, and he pinned Roz between himself and the door as he tried unlocking it. His lips once again met hers, and then traveled towards her neck. He was finally able to get the right key in the right keyhole, and the door flew open behind them. Jim pushed Roz backwards into her apartment, and kicked the door closed behind him, his lips never leaving her skin. |
| As the song finished, Wyatt and Viviana stopped dancing, but not quite letting go yet. The dance was, in truth, kind of awkward for Wyatt. He was never really a dancer. But he could if he wanted to. Wyatt and Viviana sat down on a coutch that was empty. "So," Wyatt asked," What's your major here?" "Art," Viviana replied."And yours?" "I'm a CJ major." "Cool." She smiled up at him. Wyatt smiled back. He had to admit, he thought this party was gonna suck, big time. But it was actually pretty good. He sat back and let his thoughts drift. He was exhausted. His eyes felt heavy. Viviana leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, just as he drifted off to sleep. |
| Bernie and Tristan left the floor, each laughing as they spoke about the school musical and just what Tristan had to do to get the part he had landed. She hadn't known that he could literally do every form of dance that might be required for a show- even tap and a little bit of ballet. The thought of Tristan in tights sent Bernie into paryoxms of laughter, the explanation of which got them a curious gaze from Jessie as they returned to the table. Bernie hadn't known how good a guy Tristan was. Hell, she'd never taken the opportunity to get to know anyone and she'd never known just how awesome the people at her school were. God, she needed to lighten up and get out more often. She was missing so much because of work and class that she had almost ceased to be a person because of it. When had she turned into such a workaholic? When had Bernie Terr become Bernadette Terrace, adult? It scared her that she had become what she hated so much. "What are you two laughing about?" Jessie asked as Bernie and Tristan sat down. "I abhor being left out of a good joke." Bernie laughed again. "Just the thought of Tristan in tights and a tutu. Apparently, we have a dance virtuoso at our table." Tristan grumbled. "Men do not wear tutus. Honestly, I wonder why I even tell people." His words were gruff, but a twinkle in his eyes belied amusement at the joke. Bernie was pretty sure that he had heard the barb for as long as he had been dancing. It was refreshing to meet someone who loved something enough to keep doing it despite the stereotypes. "I'd like to see you dance," Jessie said. "It would be cool." "Definitely," Bernie affirmed. "Hey, I'm gonna go get some punch, spiked or no. Would anyone like some?" Jessie declined, but Tristan agreed to a cup and Bernie rose from the table, leaving the two to talk as she made her way across the room to the refreshment table. As she reached the bowl, she ran into someone who stood nearby, staring out at the dance floor. "Oh! Excuse me. I'm sorry about that..." The person turned around and turned out to be a guy, about her age but maybe a little younger, with marvelous blue eyes and unruly dark hair. He was attractive, but there was an arrogance in his eyes that Bernie found rather off-putting. Seeing Bernie and hearing her apology, the boy smiled and the arrogance melted away, revealing a playboy attitude with a good core. "It's no problem. No damage caused." He extended his hand. "I'm Jamie. Jamie Edwards." Bernie smiled and took the offered hand, shaking it warmly. "Bernie Terrace. Nice to meet you, Jamie." "Definitely," Jamie replied, running his eyes up and down Bernie's body appreciatively. Bernie shifted so that her arms covered most of her body and poured some punch for herself and Tristan. "You're friends with Roz, right?" She asked, taking a sip of her own punch and looked over at her table, where Jessie and Tristan seemed to be enjoying themselves. "I see you with her quite a bit." Jamie nodded. "Yeah. Best friends you might say. She's gone and ditched me, though. Must've gotten lucky." Jamie laughed and Bernie tried not to curl her lip, though she supposed that it wasn't that out of line a statement. Her sensibilities were just a little behind-the-times, she supposed. And Jamie didn't seem a bad sort. "Oh...I'm sorry, Jamie. Would you like to join me at my table? We're not going to be here much longer, but at least you wouldn't be standing here all alone." |
| Jim's eyes fluttered open. Roz was already moving beside him, presumably climbing out of bed. He wondered vaugely how long they had slept, but it hardly mattered, so he didn't wonder that hard. "I'll have mine over easy. With toast," Jim murmered. "What?" Roz asked, suprised he was awake. Jamie opened his eyes, looking at Roz, beautiful in the morning-or, perhaps, afternoon-light. "I mean breakfast, woman. You expect me to make my own?" Roz sighed. “James, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now. I have a hangover like a sonovabitch, and all I really want to do is sleep for the rest of the day.” “Who’s joking? I’m really hungry.” Roz huffed. “Fuck you,” she said, and staggered out. James crossed his arms behind his head as he heard the sounds of the shower. “Geez, it was just a joke,” he muttered to himself. He sighed and got up. Maybe she was just moody from the aftereffects of the alcohol. He started to put his clothes on. She certainly made her feelings clear enough last night. He probably just needed to give her a little space. He made his way out of the apartment and back to the car. Jim sniffed and realized he needed a shower too, so this was probably for the best. |
| Jessie and Tristan talked about the stories they were working on in Creative Writing club when Bernie and a guy with midnight black hair. "Hey guys, meet Jamie. His friends ditched him and I asked him to join us. Hope that's ok?" Bernie said as they approached. "Sure, why not." Jessie said. "Nice to meet you Jamie, I'm Jessie and this is Tristan." Bernie handed Tristan his cup and then sat down next to Jamie who had just sat down next to Jessie. I'm sorry this is so short guys. I'm just not at the top of my creative game lately. |
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