@Fabricant451@Lovely Complex
Aime-sama(@AimeChambers) and I have been going down memory lane. After ending up in the same rp.
That's kinda funny because Fab and I recently talked about Darian and Gigi
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That's kinda funny because Fab and I recently talked about Darian and Gigi
Collab Featuring: Lucky @Lovely Complex, Roz @Fabricant451
Location: Homeroom → A smoking and makeout hot spot, under the stairway
(Mentions of a tiny someone @Kitty)
Just another Monday morning at Beverly. In the back, leaning against the wall, Lucky Cross, the notorious bad boy of the school, rolled his red die on his right knuckles. He observed the students in silence, while partly staying aware of the girl sitting by the door scrolling through what he’d assume was her creation. The Weekend Warrior. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Her expression was as giddy as a stoner ordering McDonald’s, as to be expected with everything that transpired that night.
Lucky was fortunate to say he witnessed the growth of the site. The ups and downs for his friend, Roz. Her labor of building something out of nothing. It took time for people to take the content of the site seriously, but with faith and appeasing the general public with words like YOU WON’T BELIEVE, she did it, and he was her witness.
Freshmen year he made a personal pact with himself. He would walk alongside her until told otherwise. She gave him a friend when he needed someone the most and he gave her security. Call it a coincidental meeting of like-minded minds, or two troubled teens not willing to open up to trust fund babies. Regardless of their roots, they built a system, and this system hasn’t failed them yet.
His hazel and honey eyes that were once resting on the board trailed to an innocent face he was growing fond of looking at, though he wouldn’t admit that outloud. An eyebrow rose when he noticed her hair out of sorts, but it was her soulful eyes and the crease of her lovely brow that made her pain evident to him. An understated beauty that drew him in like a wolf was drawn to a careless shepherd's flock. She sat there amongst her friends, attempting to finish what he’d assume was forgotten homework.
How long had he been staring?
Not long enough.
Unfortunately, his moment of admiration was ripped back to reality when Roz raced out of the room. He’d have to find a time later to talk to his lamb or, which would be preferable, she would seek him out. She did have his number, after all.
That would be absolutely delightful.
Exiting the room, right when Trixie decided to make her grand entrance, her body shuddering when their shoulders skimmed each other’s as he left and she entered, Lucky placed his die in his pant’s pocket and strided down the hall whistling Don’t Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin. With precise timing, his whistling came to a stop and he found himself leaned against a wall once more, his arms crossed, staring at his friend sitting on the ground, under the stairwell. “I don’t see you celebrating. Wasn’t this your best work yet?” His quizzical gaze examined her on the ground and after a short period of silence, he decided to walk to the wall she was resting on and slide down to the ground, sitting beside her -- to talk to her on the same level. “Do I need to fetch you some food?” Hey, she could be hangry. Why else would her mood take a drastic turn?
Roz Norcross really needed a cigarette. That thought was in her head and it bothered her tremendously, mainly for the simple fact that she didn’t smoke. But it was about the only thing that seemed like it would make sense, given the whirlwind that had swept her up this morning. It all started so well. People were looking at Henry and his ilk with a bit of apprehension and confusion, and it was clearly getting to the targets of the currently highest clicked on article on the entire site. In any other situation it would’ve been cause for celebration, the culmination of effort finally paying off.
And then she had to call that fucking phone number.
She was hoping the voice would be recognizable, but that had been wishful thinking on her part; and now here she was on the floor, slowly tilting her head against the back of the stairwell. If she had gone any faster or harder with it, she’d probably be causing permanent head trauma. Which might not have been so bad. Fortunately, her bit of mild self torture was interrupted by about the only familiar face she cared to see. Lucky was a rare one, someone Roz got on with well. Her partner in cyber crime - or libel - and his brand of chaos was perfectly meshed with her own. She sowed it with the written word, he did it with his actions. And together they ruled the school. In some corner of her mind, anyway.
“Food might make it worse. Let me ask you, what do you know about brunch?” An odd question, but Roz didn’t give Lucky time to answer before she was elaborating. "Don’t know if you saw, but the new post had a generous donation, and I’m talkin’ you and I going on a weekend bender and still having enough to call rides home type of generous. Thought it was a mistake, it wasn’t. Whoever left it wants to meet me Wednesday. For fuckin’ brunch. Who the fuck eats brunch?”
Roz again knocked her head against the stairwell, mercifully it was only one bump before she stopped, turning back to Lucky. “What do you think, worth going or nah?”
A tiny distraction had kept the rebel from keeping tabs on the article. The simple reactions of the student body, from their expressions to their whispers, were enough for him to get a good read on her article’s success. He carefully listened and watched her at a side glance. While she talked, he cooly dug into his jacket and grabbed his flask, offering it to her by placing it on the ground in front of them (never one to carry cigs but always one to have a drink and pills on him), “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t go.”
Tilting his head towards her, he gave a smug smirk, “Plus. You and brunch? Ha. Hilarious. Sucks I can’t be there to watch.” He didn’t want her to think too heavily on this matter, clouding the good that has come today, but he knew this would consume her mind until it was properly dealt with. Roz was admirable in that aspect. One of the most ambitious people he’s ever met.
All jokes aside though. He cracked his fingers one by one while speaking his mind, “There’s no doubt whoever ‘donated’ the cash is someone who’s pleased with the repercussions of your article. Process of elimination, it’s someone who can drop cash without hesitation. That doesn’t limit our options, but if we think of what your article can potentially do to the school and probably already has, we’re dealing with a person who has a motive.” Shifting his body so that he was at an angle to face her more, he added, “You want my honest opinion, Roz? I don’t think you like the feeling of doing someone else’s dirty work. This person wants to meet you. You’d be jeopardizing everything not knowing. What if this person bought the domain to your blog? Then what?”
“Then I’d move the site so fast I wouldn’t have time to archive shit.” Roz shuddered at the thought, the internet was practically the last place left where she didn't’ feel the long arm of greed - and even then it was always behind the scenes just waiting for an opportunity.
There was no hesitation when the flask was set on the ground. Roz snatched it right up and took a hearty swig. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and already she was drinking; she was going to be such a stable adult. The bitter taste of alcohol didn’t do much for nerves but it at least helped when it came to calming down. Lucky was making sense, he always did, it’s what made him effective at being a partner in mischief. Roz set the flask back down. Ever reliable, Lucky was.
“I’m mildly less pissed now. If I was a better person I’d go just to refund their little donation, but I’m not above using some one-percenter’s spending cash. We all gotta eat.” Ever the altruist. She was trying to keep a cool head about this whole thing, but it was clear from her whole demeanour that this was getting to her; this anonymous donation was like rain on a wedding day and ants running around the picnic blanket. But it was also kind of like Woodward and Bernstein. Something suspicious. A lead.
“You know me, Lucky, I didn’t even want to put ads on the damn page until I got the first few bills from the domain. You’re right. I think I need to go. And I’m bringing a camera. I’ll bring you some cantaloupe or something.” She was better, able to laugh dryly at her own remark, but the mystery benefactor would weigh on her until Wednesday. “Well that’s been my morning. Hasn’t been all bad, though. You get a look at Henry? First time I’ve seen him crack open a book. But how’s your stuff? Anything come of your daring scrap on the beach? Woulda written about it, but I’ve got a bit of bias.”
“Better things happened that night, it was more fun and games on my part. A reason to get my hands bloody.” And well, he didn’t get in the fight for the scene. He had something worth getting in a fight for. “And yeah, Henry did NOT look happy. A picture perfect moment, I’d say.”
Something did take surface on Lucky’s mind as he talked. Now deep in thought, he spoke to Roz as if he was also speaking out loud to himself, “I watched the clip you attached to your post. A few times, actually.” With ease, he laid out his hand and a display from his Oracle appeared on it, “Ivy, replay the most recent video.” The scene from the party unfolded before the two. “Ivy, pause.” The clip stopped to where Owen’s left fingers started to tap against each other. A tick, possibly. “Ivy, decrease speed by 30.” The video slowly played and as it played, Lucky zoomed in with his other hand’s pointer and middle fingers on both Ophelia and Trixie noticing that subtle ‘tick’ of Owen’s.
Intriguing.
Soon after, in the video, Owen’s hand turned into a fist. Ophelia began egging him on like an idiot. And then, Owen exploded. While the chaos unfolded, he panned to Hailey in the background, behind all those involved, smiling and then… “Ivy. Pause.” He stopped the clip when Hailey grabbed a hold of Trixie’s wrist. “People are fascinating.” It’s hard to question someone’s intention when they’re someone you think would never do harm to you. If Lucky wasn’t mistaken, all the HOT girls, including Selena, were connected not just by friendship, but also by blood. “Do you ever get curious why something happens? What’s behind the obvious?”
Roz watched the video with almost as much intensity as Lucky had. When it came to posting videos on posts, Roz typically did the bare minimum. She confirmed its validity and looked for obvious signs of doctoring, if there were any obvious signs the video likely went up anyway since clicks were what drew revenue. She watched the fight video and put it up but hadn’t given it much viewing after the fact. The way Lucky was speaking, pausing the video and all that, Roz was getting a feeling that there was a potential story here.
“Curiosity got me a brunch date. You think there’s something more to this?” Roz had barely paid attention to anyone other than Owen and Marshall when she watched it before blogging about it; that had been all she really need to backup the whole ‘gay bashing’ thing that drew in so many wonderful clicks. “You know what I say about this, follow your gut instinct. You want to do some digging? Could be there was more to the fight than I thought. Could be something to exonerate Owen. Could be nothing. Why do I get the feeling we’re not done with New Year’s?”
The day was turning around. Suddenly instead of stress relating to benefactors and brunches there was the allure of a deeper narrative. Like Watergate, only involving high school students. If there was more to the story, then as far as Roz was concerned she owed it to herself to learn the truth. And if there was something more, then maybe the student body deserved to know it as well.
“I always think there’s something more. Even if it leads us to a dead end, we won’t know until we dig. Things just seem like they’re falling into place too… perfectly. One thing, after the other, planned chaos that isn’t something we’ve made. It’s like all we do is add gasoline to an already lit fire.” Lucky grabbed his flask and took a swig of his own before standing up and putting his flask away.
Offering his hand for Roz to grab, Lucky gave a devious grin, “We might as well keep ourselves busy before your big date. The Weekend Warrior isn’t going to write itself and the New Year just begun. Let’s find ourselves a story.”
Lucky was fortunate to say he witnessed the growth of the site. The ups and downs for his friend, Roz. Her labor of building something out of nothing. It took time for people to take the content of the site seriously, but with faith and appeasing the general public with words like YOU WON’T BELIEVE, she did it, and he was her witness.
Freshmen year he made a personal pact with himself. He would walk alongside her until told otherwise. She gave him a friend when he needed someone the most and he gave her security. Call it a coincidental meeting of like-minded minds, or two troubled teens not willing to open up to trust fund babies. Regardless of their roots, they built a system, and this system hasn’t failed them yet.
His hazel and honey eyes that were once resting on the board trailed to an innocent face he was growing fond of looking at, though he wouldn’t admit that outloud. An eyebrow rose when he noticed her hair out of sorts, but it was her soulful eyes and the crease of her lovely brow that made her pain evident to him. An understated beauty that drew him in like a wolf was drawn to a careless shepherd's flock. She sat there amongst her friends, attempting to finish what he’d assume was forgotten homework.
How long had he been staring?
Not long enough.
Unfortunately, his moment of admiration was ripped back to reality when Roz raced out of the room. He’d have to find a time later to talk to his lamb or, which would be preferable, she would seek him out. She did have his number, after all.
That would be absolutely delightful.
Exiting the room, right when Trixie decided to make her grand entrance, her body shuddering when their shoulders skimmed each other’s as he left and she entered, Lucky placed his die in his pant’s pocket and strided down the hall whistling Don’t Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin. With precise timing, his whistling came to a stop and he found himself leaned against a wall once more, his arms crossed, staring at his friend sitting on the ground, under the stairwell. “I don’t see you celebrating. Wasn’t this your best work yet?” His quizzical gaze examined her on the ground and after a short period of silence, he decided to walk to the wall she was resting on and slide down to the ground, sitting beside her -- to talk to her on the same level. “Do I need to fetch you some food?” Hey, she could be hangry. Why else would her mood take a drastic turn?
Roz Norcross really needed a cigarette. That thought was in her head and it bothered her tremendously, mainly for the simple fact that she didn’t smoke. But it was about the only thing that seemed like it would make sense, given the whirlwind that had swept her up this morning. It all started so well. People were looking at Henry and his ilk with a bit of apprehension and confusion, and it was clearly getting to the targets of the currently highest clicked on article on the entire site. In any other situation it would’ve been cause for celebration, the culmination of effort finally paying off.
And then she had to call that fucking phone number.
She was hoping the voice would be recognizable, but that had been wishful thinking on her part; and now here she was on the floor, slowly tilting her head against the back of the stairwell. If she had gone any faster or harder with it, she’d probably be causing permanent head trauma. Which might not have been so bad. Fortunately, her bit of mild self torture was interrupted by about the only familiar face she cared to see. Lucky was a rare one, someone Roz got on with well. Her partner in cyber crime - or libel - and his brand of chaos was perfectly meshed with her own. She sowed it with the written word, he did it with his actions. And together they ruled the school. In some corner of her mind, anyway.
“Food might make it worse. Let me ask you, what do you know about brunch?” An odd question, but Roz didn’t give Lucky time to answer before she was elaborating. "Don’t know if you saw, but the new post had a generous donation, and I’m talkin’ you and I going on a weekend bender and still having enough to call rides home type of generous. Thought it was a mistake, it wasn’t. Whoever left it wants to meet me Wednesday. For fuckin’ brunch. Who the fuck eats brunch?”
Roz again knocked her head against the stairwell, mercifully it was only one bump before she stopped, turning back to Lucky. “What do you think, worth going or nah?”
A tiny distraction had kept the rebel from keeping tabs on the article. The simple reactions of the student body, from their expressions to their whispers, were enough for him to get a good read on her article’s success. He carefully listened and watched her at a side glance. While she talked, he cooly dug into his jacket and grabbed his flask, offering it to her by placing it on the ground in front of them (never one to carry cigs but always one to have a drink and pills on him), “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t go.”
Tilting his head towards her, he gave a smug smirk, “Plus. You and brunch? Ha. Hilarious. Sucks I can’t be there to watch.” He didn’t want her to think too heavily on this matter, clouding the good that has come today, but he knew this would consume her mind until it was properly dealt with. Roz was admirable in that aspect. One of the most ambitious people he’s ever met.
All jokes aside though. He cracked his fingers one by one while speaking his mind, “There’s no doubt whoever ‘donated’ the cash is someone who’s pleased with the repercussions of your article. Process of elimination, it’s someone who can drop cash without hesitation. That doesn’t limit our options, but if we think of what your article can potentially do to the school and probably already has, we’re dealing with a person who has a motive.” Shifting his body so that he was at an angle to face her more, he added, “You want my honest opinion, Roz? I don’t think you like the feeling of doing someone else’s dirty work. This person wants to meet you. You’d be jeopardizing everything not knowing. What if this person bought the domain to your blog? Then what?”
“Then I’d move the site so fast I wouldn’t have time to archive shit.” Roz shuddered at the thought, the internet was practically the last place left where she didn't’ feel the long arm of greed - and even then it was always behind the scenes just waiting for an opportunity.
There was no hesitation when the flask was set on the ground. Roz snatched it right up and took a hearty swig. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and already she was drinking; she was going to be such a stable adult. The bitter taste of alcohol didn’t do much for nerves but it at least helped when it came to calming down. Lucky was making sense, he always did, it’s what made him effective at being a partner in mischief. Roz set the flask back down. Ever reliable, Lucky was.
“I’m mildly less pissed now. If I was a better person I’d go just to refund their little donation, but I’m not above using some one-percenter’s spending cash. We all gotta eat.” Ever the altruist. She was trying to keep a cool head about this whole thing, but it was clear from her whole demeanour that this was getting to her; this anonymous donation was like rain on a wedding day and ants running around the picnic blanket. But it was also kind of like Woodward and Bernstein. Something suspicious. A lead.
“You know me, Lucky, I didn’t even want to put ads on the damn page until I got the first few bills from the domain. You’re right. I think I need to go. And I’m bringing a camera. I’ll bring you some cantaloupe or something.” She was better, able to laugh dryly at her own remark, but the mystery benefactor would weigh on her until Wednesday. “Well that’s been my morning. Hasn’t been all bad, though. You get a look at Henry? First time I’ve seen him crack open a book. But how’s your stuff? Anything come of your daring scrap on the beach? Woulda written about it, but I’ve got a bit of bias.”
“Better things happened that night, it was more fun and games on my part. A reason to get my hands bloody.” And well, he didn’t get in the fight for the scene. He had something worth getting in a fight for. “And yeah, Henry did NOT look happy. A picture perfect moment, I’d say.”
Something did take surface on Lucky’s mind as he talked. Now deep in thought, he spoke to Roz as if he was also speaking out loud to himself, “I watched the clip you attached to your post. A few times, actually.” With ease, he laid out his hand and a display from his Oracle appeared on it, “Ivy, replay the most recent video.” The scene from the party unfolded before the two. “Ivy, pause.” The clip stopped to where Owen’s left fingers started to tap against each other. A tick, possibly. “Ivy, decrease speed by 30.” The video slowly played and as it played, Lucky zoomed in with his other hand’s pointer and middle fingers on both Ophelia and Trixie noticing that subtle ‘tick’ of Owen’s.
Intriguing.
Soon after, in the video, Owen’s hand turned into a fist. Ophelia began egging him on like an idiot. And then, Owen exploded. While the chaos unfolded, he panned to Hailey in the background, behind all those involved, smiling and then… “Ivy. Pause.” He stopped the clip when Hailey grabbed a hold of Trixie’s wrist. “People are fascinating.” It’s hard to question someone’s intention when they’re someone you think would never do harm to you. If Lucky wasn’t mistaken, all the HOT girls, including Selena, were connected not just by friendship, but also by blood. “Do you ever get curious why something happens? What’s behind the obvious?”
Roz watched the video with almost as much intensity as Lucky had. When it came to posting videos on posts, Roz typically did the bare minimum. She confirmed its validity and looked for obvious signs of doctoring, if there were any obvious signs the video likely went up anyway since clicks were what drew revenue. She watched the fight video and put it up but hadn’t given it much viewing after the fact. The way Lucky was speaking, pausing the video and all that, Roz was getting a feeling that there was a potential story here.
“Curiosity got me a brunch date. You think there’s something more to this?” Roz had barely paid attention to anyone other than Owen and Marshall when she watched it before blogging about it; that had been all she really need to backup the whole ‘gay bashing’ thing that drew in so many wonderful clicks. “You know what I say about this, follow your gut instinct. You want to do some digging? Could be there was more to the fight than I thought. Could be something to exonerate Owen. Could be nothing. Why do I get the feeling we’re not done with New Year’s?”
The day was turning around. Suddenly instead of stress relating to benefactors and brunches there was the allure of a deeper narrative. Like Watergate, only involving high school students. If there was more to the story, then as far as Roz was concerned she owed it to herself to learn the truth. And if there was something more, then maybe the student body deserved to know it as well.
“I always think there’s something more. Even if it leads us to a dead end, we won’t know until we dig. Things just seem like they’re falling into place too… perfectly. One thing, after the other, planned chaos that isn’t something we’ve made. It’s like all we do is add gasoline to an already lit fire.” Lucky grabbed his flask and took a swig of his own before standing up and putting his flask away.
Offering his hand for Roz to grab, Lucky gave a devious grin, “We might as well keep ourselves busy before your big date. The Weekend Warrior isn’t going to write itself and the New Year just begun. Let’s find ourselves a story.”
Collab Featuring: Trixie @Lovely Complex, Jamie@smarty0114, Marhsall @Silent Observer
Location: Homeroom
A little before Riley’s show…
Trixie boredly scanned the room, as Jamie responded to her, her focus falling on one of the the newer students at BHHS, Dominica. One of the many students she’d given a tour and a brief overview of the school in general, like the cliques and who NOT to mess with (primarily Hailey and that troublemaker, Lucky). They weren’t terribly close, but they weren’t on bad terms either. Trixie wasn’t blind to ‘shine’ and this girl did hold the charisma, uniqueness, and talent it took to be, well, one of the It girls, but it was out of her jurisdiction to even entertain the idea. Trixie primarily puts all her time and energy in her influence in the school and keeping tabs of mostly everything that goes on in the halls, with little birdies that report to her because they admire her stature. However, ever since the breakup, her little birdies have purposely been withholding information from her, for her health or something.
Jesus, was she that transparent?
No, she wasn’t, but since those she surrounded herself with (and didn’t) had big mouths, everyone in the halls knew about her getting sloppy drunk and leaving the party with some french girl. She had yet to see Hailey or Ophelia’s reactions to that, and that was kind of a relief to her.
Tilting her head, she looked back at Jamie and gave him an inquisitive gaze, “What ‘wasn’t what it looked like’?” Not actually caring about the answer to the question, even if she didn’t know what he could possibly be referring to, she continued, “Well, nevermind that! Now, Jamie.” She leaned in closer, resting her elbows on his desk and putting her chin in the palm of her hands, “Before I go into the important stuff, I was curious about your relationship with Riley Wells. We might’ve had an encounter...” She innocently smiled.
Whilst Trixie was quick to brush off Jamie’s statement, Marshall certainly was not. Did he just… was he mimicking what Riley had said? Mar might be overthinking things, but the quote was eerily similar to the night of the party. And not only did he say it, but the tone he had used, and the look Jamie had given him prior to saying it… The dark-haired dancer looked down at the desk in front of him, doing his best not to show that he was feeling every square inch of that shade. Shade over a situation that he was coming over here to explain before Trixie had shown up. Marsh was pulled out of his thoughts suddenly by Trixie mentioning a relationship with Riley Wells. Oh, shit. Fuck. Damn. Why???
Jamie’s stomach dropped at Riley’s name. Figures. The young journalist pursed his lips, thinking over his answer for a moment. “As far as I’m concerned we’re acquaintances, nothing more.” he said, his voice cool. “Why?” Jamie asked, curious as to what game Trixie was playing, because he knew damn well there was a game. There was always a game.
“He seemed really intrigued about you and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be that concerned about anything else that wasn’t his little morning show.” She paused, her eyes never leaving Jamie’s expressionless face, “Oh. And.” Fixing her posture, and taking her elbows off his desk, she nonchalantly shrugged, “There’s also a rumor going around.”
Oh no. Marshall nearly cringed. Of course there was a rumor, it was BHHS, there were always rumors. Fan-fucking-tastic. He hazarded a glance over at Jamie, making eye contact and almost praying that the feisty sandy-haired boy would have mercy. It might not seem to Jamie that Marshall deserved mercy, but he could hope for it. Additionally, there was the fact that Riley wasn’t out, and it was very uncool to out a fellow gay (or bi, bi seemed right in this situation), whether it be rumored or otherwise.
Jamie chewed his lip. What the hell could he say to this? He didn’t need the entire school knowing his drama with Marshall right now. That would not do. “If I knew what was going on in Riley’s head, I would tell you. But, I’m guessing this rumor has something to do with it,” Jamie said, glancing over at Marshall for a moment to reassure him that, for now, he wouldn’t air their dirty laundry.
“Oh? So there isn’t anything going on between you two? People sighted a very friendly encounter between you and him, so the rumor is you’re trying to convert a straight guy or something. Weird, right?” Though, if there wasn’t truth about that theory, Riley wouldn’t be so concerned with Jamie’s newspaper story. Would he? Trixie wanted to know if Jamie was planning something that involved painting Riley in a certain light. If that is the case, that won’t do, not without a price. Riley was cute. He did a lot for the school, but if Jamie had a personal vendetta against him, oh man, Trixie would love know more. Call it nosey, call it her job. Trixie liked knowing things.
Jamie closed his eyes and groaned out loud for a moment, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Of course, some neanderthal sees me talking to a dude and just assumes I’m trying to sleep with him. Jesus Christ,” Jamie scoffed, his annoyance clear in his tone. “Well you can tell everyone that I’m certainly not trying to get in Riley Well’s pants,” Jamie added, rolling his eyes. What other bullshit could this school come up with?
Marshall raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s response. Now wasn’t that a tasty bit of hypocrisy? Granted, Marsh had no idea if Jamie was also spotted coming out of the same closet as Riley… but, there was an assumption made about him regardless. An assumption that Jamie was defending himself against, so, perhaps now he would be a little more open minded to what Marshall had to say. This conversation had started poorly, but it was looking like something good might come out of it. Marsh exhaled a breath of a laugh and shook his head as he remarked, “Straight people sometimes…”
What a passionate response. Trixie couldn’t help but smile. Was someone having a bad morning? Seemed to be a trend this lovely Monday. “I most certainly will. I’d stay clear of him, if you don’t want to make it on the next post of the Weekend Warrior. That’s like this school’s crack.” Trixie mused, not having checked the newest post on the blog herself.
The toying around part was done and over with. Now straight to business. “I need your help, Jamie. I know this is weird coming from me, but I have a little… project, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for the job.”
Jamie rolled his eyes at Trixie’s mention of the Weekday Warrior. That tabloid fed this school’s gossip addiction, that was for sure. At mention of a project, Jamie’s interest piqued. “And what would that be?” Jamie asked, his annoyance having been shoved aside by .curiosity.
Trixie opened her mouth, only for Mrs. Winship to interject. Her voice resounding in the room, “Quiet down. Riley’s show is about to start.”
“I’ll tell you more after club today just know…” She leaned in close and cupped her hand around Jamie’s ear, just in case Marshall was eavesdropping, “I want to know the full story... This has to stay between you and me.”
Jamie gave a slight nod and a quick glance at Trixie to show he understood. Whatever it was, he was sure it was gonna be in conflict with many of his goals. That’s just how the day was going.
Trixie boredly scanned the room, as Jamie responded to her, her focus falling on one of the the newer students at BHHS, Dominica. One of the many students she’d given a tour and a brief overview of the school in general, like the cliques and who NOT to mess with (primarily Hailey and that troublemaker, Lucky). They weren’t terribly close, but they weren’t on bad terms either. Trixie wasn’t blind to ‘shine’ and this girl did hold the charisma, uniqueness, and talent it took to be, well, one of the It girls, but it was out of her jurisdiction to even entertain the idea. Trixie primarily puts all her time and energy in her influence in the school and keeping tabs of mostly everything that goes on in the halls, with little birdies that report to her because they admire her stature. However, ever since the breakup, her little birdies have purposely been withholding information from her, for her health or something.
Jesus, was she that transparent?
No, she wasn’t, but since those she surrounded herself with (and didn’t) had big mouths, everyone in the halls knew about her getting sloppy drunk and leaving the party with some french girl. She had yet to see Hailey or Ophelia’s reactions to that, and that was kind of a relief to her.
Tilting her head, she looked back at Jamie and gave him an inquisitive gaze, “What ‘wasn’t what it looked like’?” Not actually caring about the answer to the question, even if she didn’t know what he could possibly be referring to, she continued, “Well, nevermind that! Now, Jamie.” She leaned in closer, resting her elbows on his desk and putting her chin in the palm of her hands, “Before I go into the important stuff, I was curious about your relationship with Riley Wells. We might’ve had an encounter...” She innocently smiled.
Whilst Trixie was quick to brush off Jamie’s statement, Marshall certainly was not. Did he just… was he mimicking what Riley had said? Mar might be overthinking things, but the quote was eerily similar to the night of the party. And not only did he say it, but the tone he had used, and the look Jamie had given him prior to saying it… The dark-haired dancer looked down at the desk in front of him, doing his best not to show that he was feeling every square inch of that shade. Shade over a situation that he was coming over here to explain before Trixie had shown up. Marsh was pulled out of his thoughts suddenly by Trixie mentioning a relationship with Riley Wells. Oh, shit. Fuck. Damn. Why???
Jamie’s stomach dropped at Riley’s name. Figures. The young journalist pursed his lips, thinking over his answer for a moment. “As far as I’m concerned we’re acquaintances, nothing more.” he said, his voice cool. “Why?” Jamie asked, curious as to what game Trixie was playing, because he knew damn well there was a game. There was always a game.
“He seemed really intrigued about you and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be that concerned about anything else that wasn’t his little morning show.” She paused, her eyes never leaving Jamie’s expressionless face, “Oh. And.” Fixing her posture, and taking her elbows off his desk, she nonchalantly shrugged, “There’s also a rumor going around.”
Oh no. Marshall nearly cringed. Of course there was a rumor, it was BHHS, there were always rumors. Fan-fucking-tastic. He hazarded a glance over at Jamie, making eye contact and almost praying that the feisty sandy-haired boy would have mercy. It might not seem to Jamie that Marshall deserved mercy, but he could hope for it. Additionally, there was the fact that Riley wasn’t out, and it was very uncool to out a fellow gay (or bi, bi seemed right in this situation), whether it be rumored or otherwise.
Jamie chewed his lip. What the hell could he say to this? He didn’t need the entire school knowing his drama with Marshall right now. That would not do. “If I knew what was going on in Riley’s head, I would tell you. But, I’m guessing this rumor has something to do with it,” Jamie said, glancing over at Marshall for a moment to reassure him that, for now, he wouldn’t air their dirty laundry.
“Oh? So there isn’t anything going on between you two? People sighted a very friendly encounter between you and him, so the rumor is you’re trying to convert a straight guy or something. Weird, right?” Though, if there wasn’t truth about that theory, Riley wouldn’t be so concerned with Jamie’s newspaper story. Would he? Trixie wanted to know if Jamie was planning something that involved painting Riley in a certain light. If that is the case, that won’t do, not without a price. Riley was cute. He did a lot for the school, but if Jamie had a personal vendetta against him, oh man, Trixie would love know more. Call it nosey, call it her job. Trixie liked knowing things.
Jamie closed his eyes and groaned out loud for a moment, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Of course, some neanderthal sees me talking to a dude and just assumes I’m trying to sleep with him. Jesus Christ,” Jamie scoffed, his annoyance clear in his tone. “Well you can tell everyone that I’m certainly not trying to get in Riley Well’s pants,” Jamie added, rolling his eyes. What other bullshit could this school come up with?
Marshall raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s response. Now wasn’t that a tasty bit of hypocrisy? Granted, Marsh had no idea if Jamie was also spotted coming out of the same closet as Riley… but, there was an assumption made about him regardless. An assumption that Jamie was defending himself against, so, perhaps now he would be a little more open minded to what Marshall had to say. This conversation had started poorly, but it was looking like something good might come out of it. Marsh exhaled a breath of a laugh and shook his head as he remarked, “Straight people sometimes…”
What a passionate response. Trixie couldn’t help but smile. Was someone having a bad morning? Seemed to be a trend this lovely Monday. “I most certainly will. I’d stay clear of him, if you don’t want to make it on the next post of the Weekend Warrior. That’s like this school’s crack.” Trixie mused, not having checked the newest post on the blog herself.
The toying around part was done and over with. Now straight to business. “I need your help, Jamie. I know this is weird coming from me, but I have a little… project, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for the job.”
Jamie rolled his eyes at Trixie’s mention of the Weekday Warrior. That tabloid fed this school’s gossip addiction, that was for sure. At mention of a project, Jamie’s interest piqued. “And what would that be?” Jamie asked, his annoyance having been shoved aside by .curiosity.
Trixie opened her mouth, only for Mrs. Winship to interject. Her voice resounding in the room, “Quiet down. Riley’s show is about to start.”
“I’ll tell you more after club today just know…” She leaned in close and cupped her hand around Jamie’s ear, just in case Marshall was eavesdropping, “I want to know the full story... This has to stay between you and me.”
Jamie gave a slight nod and a quick glance at Trixie to show he understood. Whatever it was, he was sure it was gonna be in conflict with many of his goals. That’s just how the day was going.
@Prawn You're more than welcomed to apply :)
We're looking forward to seeing what character you have in mind!
We're looking forward to seeing what character you have in mind!
Location: The Auditorium's basement
Interactions: Riley @Lovely Complex & Brynn @melissahart;; Ft. Owen @Universorum
Rushing to the basement of the auditorium, where Riley throughout the past two years spent a lot of time, effort, and diplomacy, to transform the storage space into the set of The (Norman’s) Morning Show: RISE, Riley tried his best to clear his mind of his encounter with Trixie. Moments ago, he downright embarrassed himself in front of an IT girl. Not just any IT girl, the IT girl that had her toes in all club affairs. Social suicide right then and there.
Just... kill him now.
Those who have been at the school during Riley’s time, have seen the show grow in not only looks but also content, since there wasn’t really anything before Rye came into the picture. He started off simply talking on the intercom in the mornings and using the radio station during his free periods, including lunch. That didn’t last long when he tallied the amount of listens within the first month and came to the realization every room has a television for educational purposes.
Why did the broadcasting club only have a radio show that hardly any student tuned into, even if they all could find the link to the broadcast via the school’s website? That was the thing! The radio was optional and… no one went on the school website unless pictures of some dance was uploaded to the gallery page.
Lightbulb.
Why not make a daily show? A daily show during a time where the students aren’t too preoccupied with anything besides waking up. HOMEROOM. Yes! He already did the announcements, he could spice it up and throw in surprises, give the student body something to talk about that wasn’t… the same-o same-o (the war in the halls). Game shows! Debates! Hilarious lip syncing battles! Lessons! You know, giving the kids food for thought so their school day isn’t a total loss. Fun & Games with a twist.
Edumacation.
On top of that, Trixie has been helping him expand it by having a partnership with the journalism club, which has far more respect from the teachers than most clubs. The newspaper is full of stories and some of the interviews that get published, she thinks could be explored further in a visual presentation. So long as he keeps the power of hosting, he will kiss Trixie’s ass as much as she wants. She convinces the higher ups to bump up his club’s budget. He ain’t complaining.
And one thing that she recently made happen was…
Panting and out of breath, having ran from one side of the campus to the other, Riley went to the center of the set to meet up with his new co-host(ess). Why don’t you have someone at your side? It must be a lot of work doing this by yourself. I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day. PLUS, if we give you a co-hostESS, you might be able to attract a certain audience better. Just imagine! RISE, starring Riley Wells and Brynn Payne. An unexpected, dynamic duo! The school’s next big craze. The entertainer and the trendsetter!
“Sorry for the wait!” He huffed.
Brynn was perched on the edge of one of the couches, gazing into her compact and fixing her makeup. This wasn’t the first time she had meandered down to the basement of the auditorium (it was on her famous “fool-proof hookup spots” list) but it was the first time she was here as the co-host of the morning show. Trixie, being the good friend that she was, pulled a few strings to get her on the air, as she knew it would look great on her college applications. But, Brynn grew impatient as she checked her watch for the eighth time. Riley was supposed to be here five minutes ago and she had issues with people who didn’t have their watches synchronized with hers. Time was of the essence and if he didn’t believe that, this was going to be an interesting partnership.
Hearing Riley come in, the fatigue clear in his breathing, Brynn continued applying mascara as if nothing had changed. “For the future, you should know that one of my pet peeves is tardiness.” Looking up from her mirror she smirked. “But, I forgive you. Thanks for letting me come on the show.”
With a blank stare, Riley didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looked at her for a moment and then went to surveying the area. Not caring about her position in the hierarchy, since really the only person at the top he remotely cared about was Trixie because of what she’s done for his club, Riley strolled to the camera, checking to make sure the battery was full, before replying in an unconcerned tone, “For the future, you should know that… I really don’t care about your pet peeves.”
Unlatching the camera from the tripod, internally wondering where the fuck A Double was, Riley smirked right back, with the same amount of sass, possibly more, “Listen, Brynn, the main reason why I agreed to this is because you’re hot and our school is stupidly simple. They’ll drool at you the moment you’re on screen. This, right here.” He gestured at the entirety of the basement, “Is something I worked my ass off to build. If we’re gonna work together, you better leave your candy self out with Lia. I care about this show, a lot. I am not going to have you, one, tell me how to run things, like you’re better than me, and two, have you FUCK everything up.” Not many people saw stressed Riley because not many people cared to know him on a personal level. Brynn simply caught him on a bad morning… he wasn’t havin’ any of this I FORGIVE YOU, shit. “And yes, if you’re wondering, I’m NOT in a good mood.”
Brynn rolled her eyes, knowing very well the only reason why he actually let her on the show before he even mentioned it. As the saying went around the school, “No Payne, no gain.’; her reputation spoke for itself. “Well aren’t we off to a great start.” She stood up, placing her compact over in her knapsack and looked over in Riley’s direction. What the boy didn’t know was that she had real aspirations, wanted to make a name for herself in the broadcast industry. But, she let him have the benefit of the doubt, as most people didn’t know she sometimes desired to be more than the school floozy, and went along with his assumptions.
“Let’s make a deal. I’m not here for politics, I’m not here just to look pretty on camera, I’m certainly not here to fuck this up for you. I walk in here, and I’m just Brynn. Not Candy Brynn, not “kill count 20” Brynn. Just Brynn. Okay?” She stared at him, an eyebrow raised as if she dared him to say something else.
Riley was thrown aback at her response. So there was more than what meets the eye with this one. Her reputation does precede her, and he didn’t necessarily care enough to look deeper into a girl who shares herself with the entire football team. But perhaps that made him wrong in this scenario. “Deal.” He would forfeit this conversation, but FIRST. He approached her with camera in hand and offered his free hand to her, “And I’m just Riley. Not only ‘Trevor’s brother’.” Handshakes were good business closers, right?
Brynn took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “Trevor, who?” She joked.
Just then, the door opened. Now, the door opened in a way that did not, in anyway, resemble the normal third member of this little shindig. Where A Double would gently push the door open, and hold the knob turned when he closed it so as to make the least amount of noise… the door flew open, left hanging open by the intruder, who definitely was not A Double.
Instead, it was Owen.
Owen stared at Brynn, and stared at Rye, and gulped. This wouldn’t be so bad. Run a camera. He could do that. He walked forward to Rye and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Owen. Alan — er, A Double, wants me to do the camera for him — cuz he’s havin’ a moment. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Oh jesus.
This was going to be one hell of an experience. Releasing Brynn’s hand, Riley focused his attention on the new person, who made quite the scene days before and was on the headliner of the Weekend Warrior. After one awkward instant, and a quick glance at his wrist watch for the time, Riley’s eyes widened - shit, they need to start filming. Placing the hefty camera in Owen’s hand, Rye nervously smiled, “Just… act like you know how to work the camera, for my sake. We’ll have time for intros later, follow me and when I say action, you’re clear to record.” And with that, Rye sped walked past him, grabbed the lav mics that he’d hook on Brynn and himself as they got into position, and out the auditorium door he went. Did he tell them his agenda of not filming on set? Nah… he probably should’ve prepared for this segment more (but it was the first day after vacation - give him a break). He heard his phone ‘ding’ which was most likely a text from the other club members in the master control room beside the set, that most definitely watched him go off on Brynn, giving him the greenlight to start the show.
Today was off to a great start.
Just... kill him now.
Those who have been at the school during Riley’s time, have seen the show grow in not only looks but also content, since there wasn’t really anything before Rye came into the picture. He started off simply talking on the intercom in the mornings and using the radio station during his free periods, including lunch. That didn’t last long when he tallied the amount of listens within the first month and came to the realization every room has a television for educational purposes.
Why did the broadcasting club only have a radio show that hardly any student tuned into, even if they all could find the link to the broadcast via the school’s website? That was the thing! The radio was optional and… no one went on the school website unless pictures of some dance was uploaded to the gallery page.
Lightbulb.
Why not make a daily show? A daily show during a time where the students aren’t too preoccupied with anything besides waking up. HOMEROOM. Yes! He already did the announcements, he could spice it up and throw in surprises, give the student body something to talk about that wasn’t… the same-o same-o (the war in the halls). Game shows! Debates! Hilarious lip syncing battles! Lessons! You know, giving the kids food for thought so their school day isn’t a total loss. Fun & Games with a twist.
Edumacation.
On top of that, Trixie has been helping him expand it by having a partnership with the journalism club, which has far more respect from the teachers than most clubs. The newspaper is full of stories and some of the interviews that get published, she thinks could be explored further in a visual presentation. So long as he keeps the power of hosting, he will kiss Trixie’s ass as much as she wants. She convinces the higher ups to bump up his club’s budget. He ain’t complaining.
And one thing that she recently made happen was…
Panting and out of breath, having ran from one side of the campus to the other, Riley went to the center of the set to meet up with his new co-host(ess). Why don’t you have someone at your side? It must be a lot of work doing this by yourself. I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day. PLUS, if we give you a co-hostESS, you might be able to attract a certain audience better. Just imagine! RISE, starring Riley Wells and Brynn Payne. An unexpected, dynamic duo! The school’s next big craze. The entertainer and the trendsetter!
“Sorry for the wait!” He huffed.
Brynn was perched on the edge of one of the couches, gazing into her compact and fixing her makeup. This wasn’t the first time she had meandered down to the basement of the auditorium (it was on her famous “fool-proof hookup spots” list) but it was the first time she was here as the co-host of the morning show. Trixie, being the good friend that she was, pulled a few strings to get her on the air, as she knew it would look great on her college applications. But, Brynn grew impatient as she checked her watch for the eighth time. Riley was supposed to be here five minutes ago and she had issues with people who didn’t have their watches synchronized with hers. Time was of the essence and if he didn’t believe that, this was going to be an interesting partnership.
Hearing Riley come in, the fatigue clear in his breathing, Brynn continued applying mascara as if nothing had changed. “For the future, you should know that one of my pet peeves is tardiness.” Looking up from her mirror she smirked. “But, I forgive you. Thanks for letting me come on the show.”
With a blank stare, Riley didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looked at her for a moment and then went to surveying the area. Not caring about her position in the hierarchy, since really the only person at the top he remotely cared about was Trixie because of what she’s done for his club, Riley strolled to the camera, checking to make sure the battery was full, before replying in an unconcerned tone, “For the future, you should know that… I really don’t care about your pet peeves.”
Unlatching the camera from the tripod, internally wondering where the fuck A Double was, Riley smirked right back, with the same amount of sass, possibly more, “Listen, Brynn, the main reason why I agreed to this is because you’re hot and our school is stupidly simple. They’ll drool at you the moment you’re on screen. This, right here.” He gestured at the entirety of the basement, “Is something I worked my ass off to build. If we’re gonna work together, you better leave your candy self out with Lia. I care about this show, a lot. I am not going to have you, one, tell me how to run things, like you’re better than me, and two, have you FUCK everything up.” Not many people saw stressed Riley because not many people cared to know him on a personal level. Brynn simply caught him on a bad morning… he wasn’t havin’ any of this I FORGIVE YOU, shit. “And yes, if you’re wondering, I’m NOT in a good mood.”
Brynn rolled her eyes, knowing very well the only reason why he actually let her on the show before he even mentioned it. As the saying went around the school, “No Payne, no gain.’; her reputation spoke for itself. “Well aren’t we off to a great start.” She stood up, placing her compact over in her knapsack and looked over in Riley’s direction. What the boy didn’t know was that she had real aspirations, wanted to make a name for herself in the broadcast industry. But, she let him have the benefit of the doubt, as most people didn’t know she sometimes desired to be more than the school floozy, and went along with his assumptions.
“Let’s make a deal. I’m not here for politics, I’m not here just to look pretty on camera, I’m certainly not here to fuck this up for you. I walk in here, and I’m just Brynn. Not Candy Brynn, not “kill count 20” Brynn. Just Brynn. Okay?” She stared at him, an eyebrow raised as if she dared him to say something else.
Riley was thrown aback at her response. So there was more than what meets the eye with this one. Her reputation does precede her, and he didn’t necessarily care enough to look deeper into a girl who shares herself with the entire football team. But perhaps that made him wrong in this scenario. “Deal.” He would forfeit this conversation, but FIRST. He approached her with camera in hand and offered his free hand to her, “And I’m just Riley. Not only ‘Trevor’s brother’.” Handshakes were good business closers, right?
Brynn took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “Trevor, who?” She joked.
Just then, the door opened. Now, the door opened in a way that did not, in anyway, resemble the normal third member of this little shindig. Where A Double would gently push the door open, and hold the knob turned when he closed it so as to make the least amount of noise… the door flew open, left hanging open by the intruder, who definitely was not A Double.
Instead, it was Owen.
Owen stared at Brynn, and stared at Rye, and gulped. This wouldn’t be so bad. Run a camera. He could do that. He walked forward to Rye and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Owen. Alan — er, A Double, wants me to do the camera for him — cuz he’s havin’ a moment. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Oh jesus.
This was going to be one hell of an experience. Releasing Brynn’s hand, Riley focused his attention on the new person, who made quite the scene days before and was on the headliner of the Weekend Warrior. After one awkward instant, and a quick glance at his wrist watch for the time, Riley’s eyes widened - shit, they need to start filming. Placing the hefty camera in Owen’s hand, Rye nervously smiled, “Just… act like you know how to work the camera, for my sake. We’ll have time for intros later, follow me and when I say action, you’re clear to record.” And with that, Rye sped walked past him, grabbed the lav mics that he’d hook on Brynn and himself as they got into position, and out the auditorium door he went. Did he tell them his agenda of not filming on set? Nah… he probably should’ve prepared for this segment more (but it was the first day after vacation - give him a break). He heard his phone ‘ding’ which was most likely a text from the other club members in the master control room beside the set, that most definitely watched him go off on Brynn, giving him the greenlight to start the show.
Today was off to a great start.
@HushedWhispers the majority of us are at work lol sorry for the wait, if Kayla/Jordan/smarty/fab don't get to reading her and doing the accepting/critiquing thing I'll do it when I'm home from work :]
@Rabidporcupine Of course not. Quality over quantity. I just got carried away last night with my Trixie solo post.
But also its kinda the start of the day and people always write a lil bit more while they get their characters to the scene. (Intros)
Alsooooo, most are collabs which are always long to prevent back to back short responses in IC. But if you look at a collab as a bunch of mini posts to create a scene, those aren't very long!
We're super lenient. Alot of us just get carried away.
The rp is high casual so like a couple of paragraphs but they don't have to be hefty. If you accomplish what you need to accomplish, we're solid.
But also its kinda the start of the day and people always write a lil bit more while they get their characters to the scene. (Intros)
Alsooooo, most are collabs which are always long to prevent back to back short responses in IC. But if you look at a collab as a bunch of mini posts to create a scene, those aren't very long!
We're super lenient. Alot of us just get carried away.
The rp is high casual so like a couple of paragraphs but they don't have to be hefty. If you accomplish what you need to accomplish, we're solid.
Location: The Sunset Castle → Hallway → Homeroom
Interacting with: Luna/Stella → Trix/Luna/Stella → Trix/Riley → Trix/Jamie @smarty0114/ Marshall @Silent Observer & Homeroom class
“It’s so sad, LuLu!” The taller blonde of the two stood at the front entrance of the Locke Residence staring down at a much expected Monday package, while ‘LuLu’, who contrasted her sister in height, and had near platinum blonde hair (highlights), made her way down the lobby toward her beloved other half. Yes lobby, since their home was also their mother’s salon. Both girls, who were at the blooming age of sixteen, were in nothing but silk bathrobes. One was the color of blush pink, which hardly hid the model-esque body it covered, and the other was the color of plum purple, fitting the more petite and tiny body near perfectly.
On the ground, with elegant blue ribbon around it, tied into a delicate bow, laid a single white lily.
LuLu, or more formerly Luna, walked past her fraternal twin and bent over to pick up the flower, “She was supposed to cancel it.” With the stem now in hand, between her thumb and pointer fingers, the Moon in their father’s life examined the petals with a contemplative stare. Curious, don’t you think?
“Maybe she couldn’t. MAYBE it’s like the one thing keeping their--”
“Stella.” Stop her while she’s ahead. The Star in their father’s life was the type to go on and on, all social cues flying right over her head or even her just not knowing when enough was enough. Ask her a yes or no question? Prepare yourself for her life story. Ask her if this outfit looked good or not? Make sure you have tissues because she’ll tear up and explain your beauty in an excerpt.
This particular subject was a hot topic for an estimate of three months. Mother dearest and Stella-baby needed to move on and find something else worth talking about. Unless...
“Yes, sissy?"
“We should give this to her.” Normally, their mother, Juliana, would have them retrieve the lilies upon arrival and put it in a vase in the massage room, hidden from Trixie and still being well taken care of, but this time…
“Instead of mama?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t like Trixie didn’t know about this. It was an anniversary gift. That would last an entire year. But since the incident, the gift turned into a painful reminder of something that no longer existed.
“This will only make her sad…” Stella crossed her arms and sorrowfully pouted. Why did her cousin have to go through so much pain? Why did the entire situation of what went down smell fishy to her? She never did trust her half sister… Hailey was cruel and ruthless. Something mustn’t be right. Something must be off. It was unbelievable how fast everything crashed. How fast their love crashed.
Was their love even real? Stella didn’t understand, at all. The only love she understood was love of family. Anything beyond that went zoom, zoom over her head!
“Or help me prove a point.” A smirk fell on Luna’s pale face and in response, Stella dumbly blinked and let her sister pull her hand to the guest room where Trixie was staying.
What was she planning on doing?!
On the ground, with elegant blue ribbon around it, tied into a delicate bow, laid a single white lily.
LuLu, or more formerly Luna, walked past her fraternal twin and bent over to pick up the flower, “She was supposed to cancel it.” With the stem now in hand, between her thumb and pointer fingers, the Moon in their father’s life examined the petals with a contemplative stare. Curious, don’t you think?
“Maybe she couldn’t. MAYBE it’s like the one thing keeping their--”
“Stella.” Stop her while she’s ahead. The Star in their father’s life was the type to go on and on, all social cues flying right over her head or even her just not knowing when enough was enough. Ask her a yes or no question? Prepare yourself for her life story. Ask her if this outfit looked good or not? Make sure you have tissues because she’ll tear up and explain your beauty in an excerpt.
This particular subject was a hot topic for an estimate of three months. Mother dearest and Stella-baby needed to move on and find something else worth talking about. Unless...
“Yes, sissy?"
“We should give this to her.” Normally, their mother, Juliana, would have them retrieve the lilies upon arrival and put it in a vase in the massage room, hidden from Trixie and still being well taken care of, but this time…
“Instead of mama?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t like Trixie didn’t know about this. It was an anniversary gift. That would last an entire year. But since the incident, the gift turned into a painful reminder of something that no longer existed.
“This will only make her sad…” Stella crossed her arms and sorrowfully pouted. Why did her cousin have to go through so much pain? Why did the entire situation of what went down smell fishy to her? She never did trust her half sister… Hailey was cruel and ruthless. Something mustn’t be right. Something must be off. It was unbelievable how fast everything crashed. How fast their love crashed.
Was their love even real? Stella didn’t understand, at all. The only love she understood was love of family. Anything beyond that went zoom, zoom over her head!
“Or help me prove a point.” A smirk fell on Luna’s pale face and in response, Stella dumbly blinked and let her sister pull her hand to the guest room where Trixie was staying.
What was she planning on doing?!
Sitting on her borrowed bed, staring at the ivory faux sheepskin rug, extremely fluffy, letting her toes rub against the softness, Trixie’s vision was blurred from one, lack of sleep, and two, the unfortunate circumstance of not having 20/20 vision. She could at least see the form of her legs and feet. Apathetically, she reached for her glasses on the nightstand. No one besides family, and well, Owen, knew she wore contacts and glasses. Truth be told, Beatrix was blind as a bat, but at least she played it off like she had observant skills as amazing as Sherlock Holmes. Even if her contact fell out, she could pretend she saw what was on the board and act like she knew what she was talking about. Truly, she was gifted and one hell of a lucky improvisor. When her glasses were on, she could see through her peripheral vision that both Stella and Luna helped themselves in… without even knocking. Such creeps.
“Yes? I still have ten more minutes before I absolutely have to get out of bed.” What did they want? It was too early for… them. Unlike her cousins, Trixie wore shorts and a tank to sleep. They were definitely their mother’s daughters. Sleep in the nude, walk around the house mostly in the nude. The bathrobes were thin and didn’t hide much.
Not wasting any time, which put Stella on complete edge, Luna strutted toward the dark beaut and grabbed her cousin’s hand, placing the lily in it, “For you.” Trixie watched as Luna released her hand and stepped back, waiting.
Waiting for what?
Usually, when Trixie saw a lily arrive she would get… incredibly sad. This time, though? An item has as much meaning as you give it. Before she could react, Stella squealed, “We just thought, hey if she didn’t cancel it, she must still love--”
“Stella.”
“Sorry! But, like, it’s pretty and you’re pretty. And what you had was…” Luna gave a heavy sigh when Stella’s eyes started to water up.
“Go pick out her outfit. It’s going to be okay, Stel. You’re going to be okay.” Luna patted her sister’s back. Man, her sister had the spitting spirit of their mother. Nodding emotionally, Stella trudged to Trixie’s closet. Their ultimate goal was to make Trix conquer the world today by being hot. So that’s exactly what she was going to do. While she walked off, Luna brought Trixie’s head up to look at her, “A white lily. Symbolizes? Purity and the beauty of youth. Your favorite flower, even before you let it hold more meaning than what it actually has. A flower.” Trixie raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. What was Luna getting at?
“Trixie, are you going to let one bad moment ruin something that once was good for you? Something that was like… this.” Kneeling down, Luna locked eyes with her cousin’s but kept the flower as the focal point. Although Trixie was trying extremely hard to keep her expression stoic, her eyes spoke volumes. First Elodie. Then Isaac at the Hummingbird Creations. Now… Luna and Stella.
“I don’t know…” Trix’s eyes were fixated on the lily.
“You do know. You would’ve cancelled the weekly lily reminder if part of you didn’t want to know...more. You want to know more, don’t you? I know you do. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t want to know the full story.”
“But… where would I start?” There was an old feeling crawling back into Trixie’s heart. Hope. Hope not so much to return to what was. No, hope for a new start by cleaning her slate. To do so? She needed to find the strength to approach her ex, get him to forgive her, she needed to find closure, for peace of mind, and she needed to find herself, her voice, amidst all the chaos that was her school. It wasn’t going to be easy and honestly, she knew she would fall more before she climbed, and yet, she felt like she needed to do something about her current state. Anything. If her mother saw her now, what would she think?
As bipolar as she felt lately, Trixie knew she was better than this. Her thoughts went to the party and how her drunk self felt inclined to run away from Ophelia. Or how when she tried to stop Owen from hurting Marshall, Hailey grabbed her wrist… Perhaps, first, she needed to distance herself from the two people that made it hard for her to think straight. That could lead to disaster. Perhaps, that wasn't a good idea at all and she simply needed to stay as is, while on the sidelines she investigated.
Her train of thought was broken by the bubbly voice of Stella, “Let’s make you dazzle! That’s where we can start. You’ll shine bright like a… diamond, my lovely! We’ll make sure of it.”
“She has a point. That's what we do best. We shine.” Luna giggled to herself and gave her doll a teasing wink.
Oh boy. This is exactly the kind of morning Trixie wanted to avoid. After laying the lily on her pillow, Beatrix was dragged to her closet...
“Yes? I still have ten more minutes before I absolutely have to get out of bed.” What did they want? It was too early for… them. Unlike her cousins, Trixie wore shorts and a tank to sleep. They were definitely their mother’s daughters. Sleep in the nude, walk around the house mostly in the nude. The bathrobes were thin and didn’t hide much.
Not wasting any time, which put Stella on complete edge, Luna strutted toward the dark beaut and grabbed her cousin’s hand, placing the lily in it, “For you.” Trixie watched as Luna released her hand and stepped back, waiting.
Waiting for what?
Usually, when Trixie saw a lily arrive she would get… incredibly sad. This time, though? An item has as much meaning as you give it. Before she could react, Stella squealed, “We just thought, hey if she didn’t cancel it, she must still love--”
“Stella.”
“Sorry! But, like, it’s pretty and you’re pretty. And what you had was…” Luna gave a heavy sigh when Stella’s eyes started to water up.
“Go pick out her outfit. It’s going to be okay, Stel. You’re going to be okay.” Luna patted her sister’s back. Man, her sister had the spitting spirit of their mother. Nodding emotionally, Stella trudged to Trixie’s closet. Their ultimate goal was to make Trix conquer the world today by being hot. So that’s exactly what she was going to do. While she walked off, Luna brought Trixie’s head up to look at her, “A white lily. Symbolizes? Purity and the beauty of youth. Your favorite flower, even before you let it hold more meaning than what it actually has. A flower.” Trixie raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. What was Luna getting at?
“Trixie, are you going to let one bad moment ruin something that once was good for you? Something that was like… this.” Kneeling down, Luna locked eyes with her cousin’s but kept the flower as the focal point. Although Trixie was trying extremely hard to keep her expression stoic, her eyes spoke volumes. First Elodie. Then Isaac at the Hummingbird Creations. Now… Luna and Stella.
“I don’t know…” Trix’s eyes were fixated on the lily.
“You do know. You would’ve cancelled the weekly lily reminder if part of you didn’t want to know...more. You want to know more, don’t you? I know you do. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t want to know the full story.”
“But… where would I start?” There was an old feeling crawling back into Trixie’s heart. Hope. Hope not so much to return to what was. No, hope for a new start by cleaning her slate. To do so? She needed to find the strength to approach her ex, get him to forgive her, she needed to find closure, for peace of mind, and she needed to find herself, her voice, amidst all the chaos that was her school. It wasn’t going to be easy and honestly, she knew she would fall more before she climbed, and yet, she felt like she needed to do something about her current state. Anything. If her mother saw her now, what would she think?
As bipolar as she felt lately, Trixie knew she was better than this. Her thoughts went to the party and how her drunk self felt inclined to run away from Ophelia. Or how when she tried to stop Owen from hurting Marshall, Hailey grabbed her wrist… Perhaps, first, she needed to distance herself from the two people that made it hard for her to think straight. That could lead to disaster. Perhaps, that wasn't a good idea at all and she simply needed to stay as is, while on the sidelines she investigated.
Her train of thought was broken by the bubbly voice of Stella, “Let’s make you dazzle! That’s where we can start. You’ll shine bright like a… diamond, my lovely! We’ll make sure of it.”
“She has a point. That's what we do best. We shine.” Luna giggled to herself and gave her doll a teasing wink.
Oh boy. This is exactly the kind of morning Trixie wanted to avoid. After laying the lily on her pillow, Beatrix was dragged to her closet...
With prowess and conviction, Trixie’s black heels resounded down one of the many hallways that were within Beverly Hills High. Stella had decided to have her cousin sport black, which wasn't something she did often, but would definitely get people to stare. She felt a sense of clarity and empowerment, though she didn’t know how long that would last. As she sauntered, her hips swaying with every step, she opened her planner and there residing in it were the pictures that changed everything for her. The pictures of Owen making out with a mysterious girl.
“Trixie!” Stopping in her tracks, she closed her planner and turned her head back to see Riley Wells speed walking to her.
“Doesn’t your show air in five? Did you lose the memo I gave you?” The HOT girl turned on her heel to face school’s biggest personality. Her voice didn’t have as much of a bite as he was use to. “I might have a copy of it in my--”
Before she went for her light blue leather backpack, he brought his hand up, which held one of his many bouncy balls, to stop her, “No, no. We’re in the clear with that.” Raising her eyebrow in curiosity and anticipation, the ‘mean’ girl waited for him to continue. “Uh… you good?”
“What?”
“I, uh, the party! You sounded god awful, which isn’t a… usual thing. But, of course you’re good! You’re here looking fine as hell, ready to take on the school day and--”
“Riley. What's this really about?” Jesus, he was reminding her of Stella. She did smile a bit at him calling her ‘fine’. She’d take a compliment any day.
Okay, okay. Just ask her. “Have you talked to Jamie lately?” He watched her expression turn from intrigue to surprise. Welp. She probably hasn’t.
“Why you ask?” She took a step closer, breaching Rye’s personal space. “Are you good?”
“What? Yeah I am! I'm so good. I was just curious if he… told you any story ideas for his column...?” Like about him potentially having a secret relationship with Marshall.
“Since when did you care about the newspaper?” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something was up. What made this even curiouser was he went to her instead of Jamie knowing very well Jamie shared their homeroom together. Did they know something that was relevant to what was happening? The battle between popular kids. Or did they know something more intimate? Was Riley trying to make sure Jamie didn’t tell her something? Something about… her?
The boy came to the realization of his grave mistake and decided to escape while he could, “Oh look at the time! I better meet up with A Double and Bry… catch ya later.”
“Riley!” In a matter of seconds, he was gone.
“Trixie!” Stopping in her tracks, she closed her planner and turned her head back to see Riley Wells speed walking to her.
“Doesn’t your show air in five? Did you lose the memo I gave you?” The HOT girl turned on her heel to face school’s biggest personality. Her voice didn’t have as much of a bite as he was use to. “I might have a copy of it in my--”
Before she went for her light blue leather backpack, he brought his hand up, which held one of his many bouncy balls, to stop her, “No, no. We’re in the clear with that.” Raising her eyebrow in curiosity and anticipation, the ‘mean’ girl waited for him to continue. “Uh… you good?”
“What?”
“I, uh, the party! You sounded god awful, which isn’t a… usual thing. But, of course you’re good! You’re here looking fine as hell, ready to take on the school day and--”
“Riley. What's this really about?” Jesus, he was reminding her of Stella. She did smile a bit at him calling her ‘fine’. She’d take a compliment any day.
Okay, okay. Just ask her. “Have you talked to Jamie lately?” He watched her expression turn from intrigue to surprise. Welp. She probably hasn’t.
“Why you ask?” She took a step closer, breaching Rye’s personal space. “Are you good?”
“What? Yeah I am! I'm so good. I was just curious if he… told you any story ideas for his column...?” Like about him potentially having a secret relationship with Marshall.
“Since when did you care about the newspaper?” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something was up. What made this even curiouser was he went to her instead of Jamie knowing very well Jamie shared their homeroom together. Did they know something that was relevant to what was happening? The battle between popular kids. Or did they know something more intimate? Was Riley trying to make sure Jamie didn’t tell her something? Something about… her?
The boy came to the realization of his grave mistake and decided to escape while he could, “Oh look at the time! I better meet up with A Double and Bry… catch ya later.”
“Riley!” In a matter of seconds, he was gone.
With a fiery spirit and burning interest, Trixie entered the room, and unlike her, she was one of the later arrivals. She even missed the dance party between Josie and Marshall, coming in right when Mrs. Winship reprimanded them.
Rather than go to her ‘usual’ spot she gave Mrs. Winship a poised wave and announced, “Mrs. Winship, I have some important things I need to discuss with Jamie, so I’m going to sit back there today if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course, Ms. Kingsley. Just make sure you do it around the morning show not during.”
“Yes ma’am! How could I possibly interrupt Riley’s show?” And with that, Trixie grabbed her seat from her usual spot, which was by Lia, Hails, and the Candies and brought/dragged the seat right between Jamie and Marshall. “Hi sweetheart, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.” Trixie beamed at her darling friend that would defend her in a heartbeat before bringing her attention to the one with the answers, “Jamie, do you want to talk now or later? I just have some club stuff to go over.” The latina put a strong emphasis on club, which would hopefully show him that she was downright lying and that there were other matters she wanted to discuss.
Rather than go to her ‘usual’ spot she gave Mrs. Winship a poised wave and announced, “Mrs. Winship, I have some important things I need to discuss with Jamie, so I’m going to sit back there today if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course, Ms. Kingsley. Just make sure you do it around the morning show not during.”
“Yes ma’am! How could I possibly interrupt Riley’s show?” And with that, Trixie grabbed her seat from her usual spot, which was by Lia, Hails, and the Candies and brought/dragged the seat right between Jamie and Marshall. “Hi sweetheart, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.” Trixie beamed at her darling friend that would defend her in a heartbeat before bringing her attention to the one with the answers, “Jamie, do you want to talk now or later? I just have some club stuff to go over.” The latina put a strong emphasis on club, which would hopefully show him that she was downright lying and that there were other matters she wanted to discuss.
As Joy Darling, one of the nerdiest girls Beverly Hills High had to offer, strolled into the party, making her way to the host, her childhood friend, who requested her to come see him first thing, she observed her surroundings and replayed her Mitty’s words from the car ride in her head.
You told me yourself, you wanted to be noticed. But not because you want to climb.
Yeah, not for the hierarchy. Not for a guy. Not for anyone, but herself. To prove a point. Out of all these students that played this stupid power game, it was her, who would end up being their boss. Hailey Green didn’t scare her either and perhaps that was her uncle’s unyielding confidence burning inside her, but it didn’t take a genius to see Hailey for what she was worth.
All Joy had to do was make little changes in appearance and have her breast sticking out to be ‘seen’. All Lucky had to do was kick desks down to the ground to be ‘seen’. And yet, the game was no longer about appearances - now, was it? The game most of the students were playing was child’s play. Joy could see it right now: the set up, the pawns, and the consequences.
But because you want to. Show them what my Joy can do and--
Did she mind that Damian wanted her to come and play? No, not really. That just meant her controlled experiment had a positive...observation. Plus, his and her brother’s involvement in this popular kid mess wasn’t necessarily something she was for. They were better than this. Call it a distraction or her wanting to rekindle her friendship with her god brother. Joy had a mission for the night.
--Allow yourself to be reckless.
A smirk fell on her face when she saw that boy she once knew like the palm of her hand, with bone structure fine and perfectly symmetrical, and a face that caused all the girls to swoon. Well, most of the girls. As she approached him, the alcohol having definitely hit her, she took off her jean jacket, revealing her cute, thin tank and pink skirt, and without a damn care in the world, dropped it on the nearby chair’s arm.
Did she know what went over her? No, not really. But she was having fun. Locking her gaze with his, she motioned him to come closer to her, “Teach me how to do a tequila shot, I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Look, telling the Candies and the HOT girls that they couldn’t come had been pretty… well, opposite of what Damian’s intentions were. He wasn’t looking to split things harder, or be at the ‘top of the ladder.’ In fact, Damian wanted to just make everyone be friends with everyone. He was simple, in that way.
In the end, he’d agreed to it though. Henry had said simply that he wouldn’t work with them if Hailey wasn’t uninvited. So he’d done it. Sure, it might not work, but it wasn’t like it would blow up in his face or anything! However, once he’d seen Joy, his choice had been clear: Fuck the cute redhead.
Damian was a little buzzed, or he would have never thought of her in such a way. But he couldn’t help himself! It was the alcohol. Once he’d seen her, he’d let them all in, and Owen had freaked out and left or something… but he’d got his prize! In the form of a tiny red headed girl...
Once Joy had walked in, Damian had just been standing there with that jug of alcohol juice that Henry had made him… which she didn’t want. “Uh, yeah! Sure. Follow me,” he said, before extending a hand to her.
“Aw, Ace, you’re such a gentleman.” Joy teased, using her dad’s nickname for him - something she called him too when they were small. With no hesitation, she took his hand and glanced up at him with a wide grin. In his favor, she was in a good mood.
Subconsciously, her hand tightened while she looked around at all the drunk teens. It was like they were kids again when they had to walk through the masses, at immense NFL events. This would be the first big party, outside of a Snyder party, that she’s been to. Only a handful of people she considered family, the rest she could care less about. “... How’s things? At school and at home, I mean.” Might as well catch up as they walked.
“Uh, things are good. Football is going great, still haven’t lost. So that’s great…” Damian smiled at her, holding her hand and guiding her toward the bar. “What about you? I guess we haven’t talked in a long time, huh? You’re the first person to call me that other than Ender in like, years.” To be honest? He’d mostly grown out of it, but had allowed Ender to use it without complaint.
“I’ve just been working on projects and babysitting the Lil’ Boss. But that’s not party talk!” Joy was not in the mood to talk about her thoughts… he wouldn’t be interested in any of that anyways. He was the leader of the Elite, why would he? “And yeah, it’s been awhile.” If she didn’t have alcohol in her system, this conversation would feel really awkward.
Once they arrived at the bar, Damian frowned when he saw that Henry was (once again) missing in action. He leaned over the bar himself, and withdrew a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses himself, pouring each of them. “We can do these, but then I want you to try this, okay?” Damian asked, pointing at the jug.
Cheat codes, man.
“What’s in it?” Joy raised an eyebrow at the offer of a mysterious drink.
Damian thought about how to answer. Should he be truthful, and tell her that it was 90% alcohol, and 10% pineapple juice? Or should he just let her drink it? What would Henry do? ...Damian knew what Henry would do. “It’s juice. It’s got a bit of alcohol in it, but I just wanna know if it’s as fruity as I want it to be.” There. Damian knew damn well that it was more fruity tasting than the wonderful burn of alcohol, but hey. It was a tiny white lie. It wasn’t like this would blow up in his face!
Mother said never accept drinks from strangers, but Damian wasn’t a stranger and he wasn’t the type to harm her - right? Mitty did say to take risks and it was just a drink. What could it possibly do to her? The rational brain went out the window the moment Joy walked in those doors. “Sure, why not. But first, teach me.” Joy already knew what a tequila shot required. Lemon, salt, saliva, and a shot of tequila. She grabbed the necessities, pushed ‘em on the bar in front of him, and gave him a challenging stare. Did she really not know how to do this or was this a test?
It didn’t matter if it was a test or not, not to Damian. To him, this was just a chance to drink with a cute girl; so, without responding to her words, he grabbed the bottle and popped the cork, pouring the two shots. “I’ll just show you.” He explained, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. He licked the back of her hand, before sprinkling a little bit of salt on it. Then, he grabbed the lime and held it up to her lips. “Open.”
Her parents warned her about the drugs, the concept of ‘stranger danger’, and the monsters in her closet, but never the ones with warm, brown eyes and a welcoming smile. A familiar feeling and a friend. Joy carefully watched Damian as he demonstrated for her how to properly do a tequila shot. His expression was pleasant and there was a soft glimmer in his lucid eyes. Truth be told, it’s been a while since she’s seen him this close. Once she felt the lime glide against her plump lips, Joy did what he said and opened wide.
Once the lime was securely held between Joy’s lips, Damian smiled, the one that usually sealed the deal for him (did he even need cheat codes?), before winking at her. Then, Damian grabbed the shot and took her hand again, and licked the salt, before he took the shot, and immediately closed the gap between the two of them, pressing his lips against hers and using his tongue to accomplish two actions: squeeze some of the lime juice out, and lip against her lips. Watermelon flavored. Nice.
In this moment, Joy had no idea what was going on, but she followed his lead. Did she have enough alcohol in her for this? The sourness of the lime slipped down her throat and she could feel his lips on hers. This was not the tequila shot her Mitty told her about. Joy was a combination of confused and willing. Willing to learn. Nothing about this was innocent. It felt hot, fiery… even slightly demanding. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or maybe it was how close they felt right here, right now. Whatever it was, Joy did not understand it - at all. How long do they do this? Although they were sorta kissing, Joy’s mind was thinking about the next step and if this part was supposed to be this long.
It wasn’t supposed to be that long.
But Damian was enjoying himself, and a king gets what he wants. After he finally pulled away from her, his lips curled up again, but this time they wound up in more of a smirk. Damian licked his lips, flecked with her lipstick, and spoke to her: “Your turn.”
Okay. Now she had to do everything he just did. Yeah, she could do this. It was like science class but more physical. The shot was already made so that checked off the first step. Nodding to herself as she replayed the scene in her head, she grabbed his large hand in her smaller ones and she put her lips on the back of his hand, under the index finger, sucking and licking at it. Her eyes scanned around her to see people watching them. Her cheeks flared. This wasn’t THAT interesting, was it? Well, you are sucking the hand of ‘El Jefe’.
The reality as vague as it was in her head, was slowly creeping in her mind. Releasing his hand from her lips, saliva trailing with her, she grabbed the salt and sprinkled some on the wet surface that was his hand. Then came the fun part where she could imitate him with the lime. With the fruit in her hand, she pressed it against his lips, stepping on her tiptoes so she could reach.
“Open.” She beamed.
Shockingly, Damian did as requested without much fight, opening his mouth for her to slip the piece of fruit in to his mouth, but as she tipped her head back to down the shot, Damian reached up to the slice of lime and turned it into his mouth, squeezing the juice into his mouth, and when she looked back at him, the slice was gone, spat off to the side. Then, Damian put his hand on the back of her head and kissed her again, this time letting the lime juice fall from his mouth into hers. Easy peasy.
O-Oh. This was not like the first demonstration. Part of her didn’t want it to stop and the other part of her was telling her this was no longer a teaching session. To give into this unknown desire or--? With a little nudge, Joy tried to push Damian back, turning her lips away from him, as she collected her thoughts, “W-we should go play games.” Her blush seared through her cheeks and Joy thought her head was on fire. Everyone was watching them.
Well, at least Damian knew he was winning, buuuut. Maybe he did need those cheat codes. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Let’s go play games, but first this.” Damian said, reaching to the jug he’d gotten from Henry, and pouring her a large cup of it, handing it over.
“Oh yeah, the juice.” Joy did tell him she’d drink some, didn't she? She grabbed the cup that was kind of big for her, and took a sip, “Oh wow, that’s really good.” Mmm, it was so fruity. Just like he said.
Tonight was going to be a good night.
You told me yourself, you wanted to be noticed. But not because you want to climb.
Yeah, not for the hierarchy. Not for a guy. Not for anyone, but herself. To prove a point. Out of all these students that played this stupid power game, it was her, who would end up being their boss. Hailey Green didn’t scare her either and perhaps that was her uncle’s unyielding confidence burning inside her, but it didn’t take a genius to see Hailey for what she was worth.
All Joy had to do was make little changes in appearance and have her breast sticking out to be ‘seen’. All Lucky had to do was kick desks down to the ground to be ‘seen’. And yet, the game was no longer about appearances - now, was it? The game most of the students were playing was child’s play. Joy could see it right now: the set up, the pawns, and the consequences.
But because you want to. Show them what my Joy can do and--
Did she mind that Damian wanted her to come and play? No, not really. That just meant her controlled experiment had a positive...observation. Plus, his and her brother’s involvement in this popular kid mess wasn’t necessarily something she was for. They were better than this. Call it a distraction or her wanting to rekindle her friendship with her god brother. Joy had a mission for the night.
--Allow yourself to be reckless.
A smirk fell on her face when she saw that boy she once knew like the palm of her hand, with bone structure fine and perfectly symmetrical, and a face that caused all the girls to swoon. Well, most of the girls. As she approached him, the alcohol having definitely hit her, she took off her jean jacket, revealing her cute, thin tank and pink skirt, and without a damn care in the world, dropped it on the nearby chair’s arm.
Did she know what went over her? No, not really. But she was having fun. Locking her gaze with his, she motioned him to come closer to her, “Teach me how to do a tequila shot, I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Look, telling the Candies and the HOT girls that they couldn’t come had been pretty… well, opposite of what Damian’s intentions were. He wasn’t looking to split things harder, or be at the ‘top of the ladder.’ In fact, Damian wanted to just make everyone be friends with everyone. He was simple, in that way.
In the end, he’d agreed to it though. Henry had said simply that he wouldn’t work with them if Hailey wasn’t uninvited. So he’d done it. Sure, it might not work, but it wasn’t like it would blow up in his face or anything! However, once he’d seen Joy, his choice had been clear: Fuck the cute redhead.
Damian was a little buzzed, or he would have never thought of her in such a way. But he couldn’t help himself! It was the alcohol. Once he’d seen her, he’d let them all in, and Owen had freaked out and left or something… but he’d got his prize! In the form of a tiny red headed girl...
Once Joy had walked in, Damian had just been standing there with that jug of alcohol juice that Henry had made him… which she didn’t want. “Uh, yeah! Sure. Follow me,” he said, before extending a hand to her.
“Aw, Ace, you’re such a gentleman.” Joy teased, using her dad’s nickname for him - something she called him too when they were small. With no hesitation, she took his hand and glanced up at him with a wide grin. In his favor, she was in a good mood.
Subconsciously, her hand tightened while she looked around at all the drunk teens. It was like they were kids again when they had to walk through the masses, at immense NFL events. This would be the first big party, outside of a Snyder party, that she’s been to. Only a handful of people she considered family, the rest she could care less about. “... How’s things? At school and at home, I mean.” Might as well catch up as they walked.
“Uh, things are good. Football is going great, still haven’t lost. So that’s great…” Damian smiled at her, holding her hand and guiding her toward the bar. “What about you? I guess we haven’t talked in a long time, huh? You’re the first person to call me that other than Ender in like, years.” To be honest? He’d mostly grown out of it, but had allowed Ender to use it without complaint.
“I’ve just been working on projects and babysitting the Lil’ Boss. But that’s not party talk!” Joy was not in the mood to talk about her thoughts… he wouldn’t be interested in any of that anyways. He was the leader of the Elite, why would he? “And yeah, it’s been awhile.” If she didn’t have alcohol in her system, this conversation would feel really awkward.
Once they arrived at the bar, Damian frowned when he saw that Henry was (once again) missing in action. He leaned over the bar himself, and withdrew a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses himself, pouring each of them. “We can do these, but then I want you to try this, okay?” Damian asked, pointing at the jug.
Cheat codes, man.
“What’s in it?” Joy raised an eyebrow at the offer of a mysterious drink.
Damian thought about how to answer. Should he be truthful, and tell her that it was 90% alcohol, and 10% pineapple juice? Or should he just let her drink it? What would Henry do? ...Damian knew what Henry would do. “It’s juice. It’s got a bit of alcohol in it, but I just wanna know if it’s as fruity as I want it to be.” There. Damian knew damn well that it was more fruity tasting than the wonderful burn of alcohol, but hey. It was a tiny white lie. It wasn’t like this would blow up in his face!
Mother said never accept drinks from strangers, but Damian wasn’t a stranger and he wasn’t the type to harm her - right? Mitty did say to take risks and it was just a drink. What could it possibly do to her? The rational brain went out the window the moment Joy walked in those doors. “Sure, why not. But first, teach me.” Joy already knew what a tequila shot required. Lemon, salt, saliva, and a shot of tequila. She grabbed the necessities, pushed ‘em on the bar in front of him, and gave him a challenging stare. Did she really not know how to do this or was this a test?
It didn’t matter if it was a test or not, not to Damian. To him, this was just a chance to drink with a cute girl; so, without responding to her words, he grabbed the bottle and popped the cork, pouring the two shots. “I’ll just show you.” He explained, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. He licked the back of her hand, before sprinkling a little bit of salt on it. Then, he grabbed the lime and held it up to her lips. “Open.”
Her parents warned her about the drugs, the concept of ‘stranger danger’, and the monsters in her closet, but never the ones with warm, brown eyes and a welcoming smile. A familiar feeling and a friend. Joy carefully watched Damian as he demonstrated for her how to properly do a tequila shot. His expression was pleasant and there was a soft glimmer in his lucid eyes. Truth be told, it’s been a while since she’s seen him this close. Once she felt the lime glide against her plump lips, Joy did what he said and opened wide.
Once the lime was securely held between Joy’s lips, Damian smiled, the one that usually sealed the deal for him (did he even need cheat codes?), before winking at her. Then, Damian grabbed the shot and took her hand again, and licked the salt, before he took the shot, and immediately closed the gap between the two of them, pressing his lips against hers and using his tongue to accomplish two actions: squeeze some of the lime juice out, and lip against her lips. Watermelon flavored. Nice.
In this moment, Joy had no idea what was going on, but she followed his lead. Did she have enough alcohol in her for this? The sourness of the lime slipped down her throat and she could feel his lips on hers. This was not the tequila shot her Mitty told her about. Joy was a combination of confused and willing. Willing to learn. Nothing about this was innocent. It felt hot, fiery… even slightly demanding. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or maybe it was how close they felt right here, right now. Whatever it was, Joy did not understand it - at all. How long do they do this? Although they were sorta kissing, Joy’s mind was thinking about the next step and if this part was supposed to be this long.
It wasn’t supposed to be that long.
But Damian was enjoying himself, and a king gets what he wants. After he finally pulled away from her, his lips curled up again, but this time they wound up in more of a smirk. Damian licked his lips, flecked with her lipstick, and spoke to her: “Your turn.”
Okay. Now she had to do everything he just did. Yeah, she could do this. It was like science class but more physical. The shot was already made so that checked off the first step. Nodding to herself as she replayed the scene in her head, she grabbed his large hand in her smaller ones and she put her lips on the back of his hand, under the index finger, sucking and licking at it. Her eyes scanned around her to see people watching them. Her cheeks flared. This wasn’t THAT interesting, was it? Well, you are sucking the hand of ‘El Jefe’.
The reality as vague as it was in her head, was slowly creeping in her mind. Releasing his hand from her lips, saliva trailing with her, she grabbed the salt and sprinkled some on the wet surface that was his hand. Then came the fun part where she could imitate him with the lime. With the fruit in her hand, she pressed it against his lips, stepping on her tiptoes so she could reach.
“Open.” She beamed.
Shockingly, Damian did as requested without much fight, opening his mouth for her to slip the piece of fruit in to his mouth, but as she tipped her head back to down the shot, Damian reached up to the slice of lime and turned it into his mouth, squeezing the juice into his mouth, and when she looked back at him, the slice was gone, spat off to the side. Then, Damian put his hand on the back of her head and kissed her again, this time letting the lime juice fall from his mouth into hers. Easy peasy.
O-Oh. This was not like the first demonstration. Part of her didn’t want it to stop and the other part of her was telling her this was no longer a teaching session. To give into this unknown desire or--? With a little nudge, Joy tried to push Damian back, turning her lips away from him, as she collected her thoughts, “W-we should go play games.” Her blush seared through her cheeks and Joy thought her head was on fire. Everyone was watching them.
Well, at least Damian knew he was winning, buuuut. Maybe he did need those cheat codes. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Let’s go play games, but first this.” Damian said, reaching to the jug he’d gotten from Henry, and pouring her a large cup of it, handing it over.
“Oh yeah, the juice.” Joy did tell him she’d drink some, didn't she? She grabbed the cup that was kind of big for her, and took a sip, “Oh wow, that’s really good.” Mmm, it was so fruity. Just like he said.
Tonight was going to be a good night.
If circumstances were different, this night could’ve been the best night of her life. Slumped in the bathtub of Damian’s parents’ bathroom, Trixie did the only thing she could think of doing. She cried. Water spilled down her face, her jaw felt like it was trembling, and her world kept spinning. And spinning. And spinning.
Why was she even here?
Her dark gaze was fixated on the tub’s faucet. The faucet was golden, fit for royalty, and the tub itself was porcelain white, causing the ceiling light to reflect off of it. This tub alone could probably pay off some poor college student’s debt.
With her shoes off, she used her toes to start the water and stop it from draining. The water was freezing cold, but she didn’t mind. Thing was, the cold helped ease the pain that the past couple of months forced upon her. If she stayed here, she would be comfortably numb. Nothing would matter.
Trixie let the water slowly rise until most of her body was submerged in the clear liquid. If she were to drown, would people care? When the water started to overflow, she used her toes once again to turn the faucet off. The tears wouldn’t stop. It was the kind of sobbing from a person drained of all hope. Was this what it felt like to be at your all time low? Or was this because she reached the point of no return with all that alcohol she drank?
Why did everything feel so heavy?
Raising her hands up, Trixie covered her face as her breathing turned into hyperventilating and her whimpers became muffled by her palms. The last time she cried like this was when she found out Owen no longer was her’s. When Owen chose someone over her. When her heart broke. The new disturbing reality that arrived uninvited.
Everything came crashing in one single moment. Thanks to Hailey and Ophelia. Trixie wanted to smile, laugh along with her friends, but something in her squeezed her chest tightly, like there were piercing nails digging into her heart. The world that once was so bright, turned bleak. She was ugly, evil, and stupid. If anything, she deserved this. Every ounce of emotion she was feeling, she deserved completely. This is how things were supposed to be. Her life wasn’t meant to have a fairytale ending. She wasn’t meant to be happy.
Before her thoughts could plymouth anymore, there was a sudden knock on the door that caused her to flinch in surprise. Trying to grab her composure, she cleared her throat and ‘cooly’ responded, “It’s… It’s going to be awhile!” To her discovery, on the other side, was none other than Riley Well’s. The Voice of Beverly Hills High.
His question caused her to raise an eyebrow. “...you good?” Was he legitimately concerned about her? No, he couldn’t be. It was most likely because she was in the bathroom for ten minutes already. She needed more time. There was no way in hell she would go out like this. Ophelia wouldn’t be happy at the sight of her at all. Trixie, one of the top girls of the school, looking pathetic and weak. The perfect example for the student body.
“O-of course! I’m just letting it all out!” Trixie pretended to be puking, hoping the sounds were convincing enough for the boy to walk away. When he did dismiss himself, the latina gave a sigh of relief. A little bit more time…
With Riley’s dismissal, Trixie slid down into the water, letting it block out the sounds around her. How long should she stay under here? Oddly enough, being in the water wasn’t too different than her reality. The feeling of suffocation…
Her eyes shot open with a sudden realization. Suffocation? Shooting up, her body completely soaked, the brunette stood in the tub, shivering. She needed to leave. Hurriedly, she hopped out of the tub, making sure she didn’t slip or anything, and opened the window. The only way to leave without being seen by Ophelia.
Forgetting her shoes, but stopping herself to turn back to unlock the door for anyone who had to use the bathroom, Trixie was ready. To run. Climbing out of the window, not so gracefully, Trixie found herself stumbling out and falling right on her ass, in front of the sex tents. No time to think! She had to go. Her makeup was ruined and her nipples were most definitely showing through her outfit. After picking herself up, with reckless abandon, she charged in a random direction and hoped she would find a getaway car, as if she had just robbed a bank.
Instead of a car, she found a human. Or more like, crashed into a blonde girl to where she was lying on top of her. “Oh, um, sorry…”
The party had become a bit much for Elodie. Normally, back at home, she would’ve gone outside with her friends. They would smoke, she would not. But still, she would be among friends and just chat until they all felt ready to go in again. In LA she couldn’t go outside with anyone yet. That didn’t stop her though. On the beach, she watched the dark water. Far, far away she could barely see the point where water became sky. It was moments like these that she realized how people thought gods could exist. If you looked at a horizon like this, how could you not believe in something supernatural? Of course, people now replaced the gods with science. But that was harder. Maybe too hard? Alas, not everything was replaced.
With a smile, Elodie threw a small gaze next to her. Towards the tents. Not all gods were replaced. Love was still that unexplainable mystery it was many years ago. What drove two people to just look at each other and think: this is the person I want to live my life with. Not just an hour or two a day. I literally want this person in my life for the rest of my life. Scientists could babble about hormones as much as they wanted. But to Elodie, love was so much more. It was a connection higher than the basic, animalistic senses.
Deep in her own mind, looking at the dark ocean before her as she sipped her drink, Elodie barely saw the girl. Something in the corners of her eyes, that’s all she saw. Her reactions made her turn right before the collision. The two girls fell down on the sand. Elodie’s red cup flew through the air and landed somewhere a lot further from them. “No-No need to be sorry.” Elodie said as her senses returned to her. “Wow you're cold. I can feel your-“ Don’t say it! “Is the water that freezing?” Elodie asked jokingly. Before she got a good view of the girl’s face. Her make-up was ruined and her cheeks red. She had cried. Elodie recognized it immediately. “Oh you are not okay.” the playfulness went out of her voice immediately. Worry replaced it.
Something switched in Trixie, the moment she was in the presence of a stranger. Picking herself up (off the other girl), but staying on the ground, the brunette wiped her face - as if she was cleaning herself up - and gave a weak smile, “What? All this? It was a little accident!” Her body shivered, as the cool breeze hit her skin. Part of her nature, a mechanism built over the years, was to act like she was okay even if clearly she wasn’t. Scanning the area to make sure Ophelia, Selena, or any of the Candies for that matter weren’t in the general vicinity, Trixie softly asked the girl, “Enjoying yourself? Isn’t this party just great?” So far, the stranger did not recognize her and honestly, that feeling gave her relief.
“Yeah, it sure is.” Elodie answered carefully as she sat up next to the girl. Why did she lie? Why did she think she should lie? Her eyes went up and down Trixie, examining her whole body. No, she wasn’t alright. But girls have cried at parties before. Even Elodie has cried at a party before. In a toilet even, just to get away from everyone for a moment. Most recovered. With a mixture of caution and playful happiness that was returning she said: “Come on.” As she got up and took off her jacket. “You look like you could use a cocktail. Something fruity!” She held out her hand to help Trixie up from the floor, ready to offer her jacket so the girl would at least be somewhat sheltered from the wind. She was shivering all over!
Graciously, Trixie did take the kind soul’s jacket, who was definitely bigger than her in height (5’8” versus 4’11”). “Can we--” The ‘mean girl’ kept her feet planted in the sand, while she closed the jacket for warmth, “--get it somewhere else? Away from here?” There was no reason to be here if she knew she wasn’t going to enjoy herself, and Hailey herself didn’t even stay, which Trixie was still wondering ‘why’. Why come all this way just to go back home?
Who knows if this stranger would keep her company for the night! But, Trixie didn’t want to be alone. Is this a good time to introduce herself? Or would this make the girl turn her down? Taking a risk, Beatrix bit the bottom of her lip before finally saying her name, “Trixie, by the way.” There was only one Beatrix, Trixie, Kingsley at Beverly Hills High.
The base was droning on behind Elodie. People were laughing and she could hear people kissing in the tents next to them. Even though she went off into the deep end way too early, she was having a good time. A genuinely good time. And she still hadn’t met Ophelia yet and she really wanted to meet Ophelia. Yet one look at the girl’s face made her rethink it all.
“Sure.” Elodie said as she conjured up her keys and pressed a button. Somewhere in a parking lot not too far away a car rumbled into life and drove away on its own. “Oh and I’m Elodie. Nice to meet you.” Elodie went in and hugged Trixie tight. Right then the car arrived on the street, not very far from the two girls. “C’mon, that’s our ride!” She said, taking Trixie by the hand and leading her up to the vehicle. Once in, Elodie offered one of the bottles she had sitting in the mini, built-in fridge as she asked: “So what’s your story?”
Why was she even here?
Her dark gaze was fixated on the tub’s faucet. The faucet was golden, fit for royalty, and the tub itself was porcelain white, causing the ceiling light to reflect off of it. This tub alone could probably pay off some poor college student’s debt.
With her shoes off, she used her toes to start the water and stop it from draining. The water was freezing cold, but she didn’t mind. Thing was, the cold helped ease the pain that the past couple of months forced upon her. If she stayed here, she would be comfortably numb. Nothing would matter.
Trixie let the water slowly rise until most of her body was submerged in the clear liquid. If she were to drown, would people care? When the water started to overflow, she used her toes once again to turn the faucet off. The tears wouldn’t stop. It was the kind of sobbing from a person drained of all hope. Was this what it felt like to be at your all time low? Or was this because she reached the point of no return with all that alcohol she drank?
Why did everything feel so heavy?
Raising her hands up, Trixie covered her face as her breathing turned into hyperventilating and her whimpers became muffled by her palms. The last time she cried like this was when she found out Owen no longer was her’s. When Owen chose someone over her. When her heart broke. The new disturbing reality that arrived uninvited.
Everything came crashing in one single moment. Thanks to Hailey and Ophelia. Trixie wanted to smile, laugh along with her friends, but something in her squeezed her chest tightly, like there were piercing nails digging into her heart. The world that once was so bright, turned bleak. She was ugly, evil, and stupid. If anything, she deserved this. Every ounce of emotion she was feeling, she deserved completely. This is how things were supposed to be. Her life wasn’t meant to have a fairytale ending. She wasn’t meant to be happy.
Before her thoughts could plymouth anymore, there was a sudden knock on the door that caused her to flinch in surprise. Trying to grab her composure, she cleared her throat and ‘cooly’ responded, “It’s… It’s going to be awhile!” To her discovery, on the other side, was none other than Riley Well’s. The Voice of Beverly Hills High.
His question caused her to raise an eyebrow. “...you good?” Was he legitimately concerned about her? No, he couldn’t be. It was most likely because she was in the bathroom for ten minutes already. She needed more time. There was no way in hell she would go out like this. Ophelia wouldn’t be happy at the sight of her at all. Trixie, one of the top girls of the school, looking pathetic and weak. The perfect example for the student body.
“O-of course! I’m just letting it all out!” Trixie pretended to be puking, hoping the sounds were convincing enough for the boy to walk away. When he did dismiss himself, the latina gave a sigh of relief. A little bit more time…
With Riley’s dismissal, Trixie slid down into the water, letting it block out the sounds around her. How long should she stay under here? Oddly enough, being in the water wasn’t too different than her reality. The feeling of suffocation…
Her eyes shot open with a sudden realization. Suffocation? Shooting up, her body completely soaked, the brunette stood in the tub, shivering. She needed to leave. Hurriedly, she hopped out of the tub, making sure she didn’t slip or anything, and opened the window. The only way to leave without being seen by Ophelia.
Forgetting her shoes, but stopping herself to turn back to unlock the door for anyone who had to use the bathroom, Trixie was ready. To run. Climbing out of the window, not so gracefully, Trixie found herself stumbling out and falling right on her ass, in front of the sex tents. No time to think! She had to go. Her makeup was ruined and her nipples were most definitely showing through her outfit. After picking herself up, with reckless abandon, she charged in a random direction and hoped she would find a getaway car, as if she had just robbed a bank.
Instead of a car, she found a human. Or more like, crashed into a blonde girl to where she was lying on top of her. “Oh, um, sorry…”
The party had become a bit much for Elodie. Normally, back at home, she would’ve gone outside with her friends. They would smoke, she would not. But still, she would be among friends and just chat until they all felt ready to go in again. In LA she couldn’t go outside with anyone yet. That didn’t stop her though. On the beach, she watched the dark water. Far, far away she could barely see the point where water became sky. It was moments like these that she realized how people thought gods could exist. If you looked at a horizon like this, how could you not believe in something supernatural? Of course, people now replaced the gods with science. But that was harder. Maybe too hard? Alas, not everything was replaced.
With a smile, Elodie threw a small gaze next to her. Towards the tents. Not all gods were replaced. Love was still that unexplainable mystery it was many years ago. What drove two people to just look at each other and think: this is the person I want to live my life with. Not just an hour or two a day. I literally want this person in my life for the rest of my life. Scientists could babble about hormones as much as they wanted. But to Elodie, love was so much more. It was a connection higher than the basic, animalistic senses.
Deep in her own mind, looking at the dark ocean before her as she sipped her drink, Elodie barely saw the girl. Something in the corners of her eyes, that’s all she saw. Her reactions made her turn right before the collision. The two girls fell down on the sand. Elodie’s red cup flew through the air and landed somewhere a lot further from them. “No-No need to be sorry.” Elodie said as her senses returned to her. “Wow you're cold. I can feel your-“ Don’t say it! “Is the water that freezing?” Elodie asked jokingly. Before she got a good view of the girl’s face. Her make-up was ruined and her cheeks red. She had cried. Elodie recognized it immediately. “Oh you are not okay.” the playfulness went out of her voice immediately. Worry replaced it.
Something switched in Trixie, the moment she was in the presence of a stranger. Picking herself up (off the other girl), but staying on the ground, the brunette wiped her face - as if she was cleaning herself up - and gave a weak smile, “What? All this? It was a little accident!” Her body shivered, as the cool breeze hit her skin. Part of her nature, a mechanism built over the years, was to act like she was okay even if clearly she wasn’t. Scanning the area to make sure Ophelia, Selena, or any of the Candies for that matter weren’t in the general vicinity, Trixie softly asked the girl, “Enjoying yourself? Isn’t this party just great?” So far, the stranger did not recognize her and honestly, that feeling gave her relief.
“Yeah, it sure is.” Elodie answered carefully as she sat up next to the girl. Why did she lie? Why did she think she should lie? Her eyes went up and down Trixie, examining her whole body. No, she wasn’t alright. But girls have cried at parties before. Even Elodie has cried at a party before. In a toilet even, just to get away from everyone for a moment. Most recovered. With a mixture of caution and playful happiness that was returning she said: “Come on.” As she got up and took off her jacket. “You look like you could use a cocktail. Something fruity!” She held out her hand to help Trixie up from the floor, ready to offer her jacket so the girl would at least be somewhat sheltered from the wind. She was shivering all over!
Graciously, Trixie did take the kind soul’s jacket, who was definitely bigger than her in height (5’8” versus 4’11”). “Can we--” The ‘mean girl’ kept her feet planted in the sand, while she closed the jacket for warmth, “--get it somewhere else? Away from here?” There was no reason to be here if she knew she wasn’t going to enjoy herself, and Hailey herself didn’t even stay, which Trixie was still wondering ‘why’. Why come all this way just to go back home?
Who knows if this stranger would keep her company for the night! But, Trixie didn’t want to be alone. Is this a good time to introduce herself? Or would this make the girl turn her down? Taking a risk, Beatrix bit the bottom of her lip before finally saying her name, “Trixie, by the way.” There was only one Beatrix, Trixie, Kingsley at Beverly Hills High.
The base was droning on behind Elodie. People were laughing and she could hear people kissing in the tents next to them. Even though she went off into the deep end way too early, she was having a good time. A genuinely good time. And she still hadn’t met Ophelia yet and she really wanted to meet Ophelia. Yet one look at the girl’s face made her rethink it all.
“Sure.” Elodie said as she conjured up her keys and pressed a button. Somewhere in a parking lot not too far away a car rumbled into life and drove away on its own. “Oh and I’m Elodie. Nice to meet you.” Elodie went in and hugged Trixie tight. Right then the car arrived on the street, not very far from the two girls. “C’mon, that’s our ride!” She said, taking Trixie by the hand and leading her up to the vehicle. Once in, Elodie offered one of the bottles she had sitting in the mini, built-in fridge as she asked: “So what’s your story?”
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