Realistic or Modern City Living

[Bandit_]

Makayla was still enraged by the time that Jordan walked off, but she did know that it was better that it didn’t respond to his cutting words. For one, she didn’t give a shit about what he thought about her. Secondly, she was content enough with her own actions proving her point. She didn’t need to engage in a back and forth dynamic with him because that wasn’t the point. The point was that she got her point across, and whether he thought he left the conversation with the last word or with some lasting impression on her meant nothing to her. She didn’t care if her actions wouldn’t seem justified on the outside. They felt justified to her. Maybe Jordan was taking the hit for bigger issues that were bothering Makayla, but she didn’t care because him inconveniencing her even in a minor sense through his annoying brother was enough to warrant some sort of confrontation. Makayla let a lot of things slide, and when she no longer could, it was because she quite simply no longer could. Her limit was reached and then passed, and that was that. Jordan calling her trash held no weight to her, especially at a party like this. She knew that she was poor. She knew that she didn’t grow up going to debutante balls like the people here. She didn’t work a corporate job and she couldn’t talk business or even pretend to. Oh fucking well. His Uncle Tom looking ass couldn’t say a damn thing that would have Makayla questioning who she was.

The man standing in the booth looked surprised, seemingly unsure if he should hand Makayla the lobster in his hand or not until she reached across the counter for it before requesting another for Ruby. Luckily, it did seem like he was the only one with a dumbfounded look on his face, suggesting that he was the only one who had been paying enough attention around them to have witnessed it. Even if Makayla didn’t regret confronting Jordan like that, and even if she would gladly do it again, she wasn’t doing it with the intent of garnering attention. Had she caught Jordan in private, she would have preferred to do it there, but for the sake of his own health, it was probably better that they had crossed paths in the public eye. She shuffled past a few more food booths, tempted to take more helpings for herself but knowing that she was limited by the space in her hands. They were both already full with lobsters for herself and Ruby, and Holly needed something. Her sister’s picky eating habits were always annoying, but especially so in situations like this. Makayla found the stand offering the cheeseburgers topped with mac & cheese and requested one of those and the parmesan truffle fries they came with. Whether Holly would eat them or not was still up in the air, and as Makayla covered that plate with another one that was upside down, creating a makeshift box to stack one of the lobsters on, she wasn’t even sure if it would even make it to Holly in one piece for her to have a chance to reject it.

Collin had followed Chanel’s request by removing the dog from the living room. He carried it upstairs, clueless to where it had come from. Because all of the bedrooms up there were guest bedrooms, he had have the mind to just leave it in one of them and hope it didn’t go to the bathroom on the floor or destroy the furniture by chewing it up. After peeking into a few rooms, he did find the one that it had likely come from, as a small crate, a bowl of water, and some chew toys were scattered around the room. How Holly and Sam had managed to find a dog all the way up here was surprising, but then again, with Holly’s curious nature, nothing was really that surprising. Convinced that the dog was likely exhausted itself and deserved a nap, Collin placed it into the crate and locked the door. He was sure that the house staff were taking care of bringing it out for walks and feeding it, so he left without further regard for the little guy. He momentarily regretted that though as he quietly made his way back down the stairs. He didn’t really want to deal with Holly anymore right now, but he knew that he was going to feel bad leaving her with Chanel to deal with on her own. Granted, given how strongly Holly wanted to cast Collin as the devil today, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was painting Chanel to be an angel just to create a more stark difference in her preference. As he tiptoed back into the living room, all it took was overhearing one snippet about how Holly wanted to move in with Cara and kick him out for him to make an about face. He headed out a different door that led outside, officially deeming that his presence would do more harm than good in there.

As he walked back towards the epicenter of the party, he texted Chanel saying: “Dogs upstairs and I’m back outside so that I don’t taint the aura anymore with my demonic vibes lmao. Idk wtf I did but I’ll be taking shots for the rest of the evening soooooo come find me if she doesn’t possess you before then”. He didn’t get far before he ran into Makayla though, and merely because it seemed like a good way to free Chanel of her responsibilities, he approached her. He wasn’t able to say anything before she noticed him and spoke up, though.

“Hey Collin, have you seen Holly?” she asked, hoping that he would prove to be more useful than Sam.

“Yeah, I actually just left her. She’s in the guest house with Chanel and Ruby,” he explained. He was tempted to relay how unkind Holly had been to him just because he knew that Makayla wouldn’t let it slide like he felt Chanel was, but he also knew that it wasn’t that deep. Even if he wanted to be offended and was to an extent, he was aware of how childish it would be to tattle tale on Holly to her sister. Hopefully Chanel would find a way to do that in a more dignified manner, but if not, Collin wasn’t going to die because of it. His ego would a little bit, but whatever. Time to drink.

“Perfect, thanks.” Makayla headed towards the guest house as quickly as she could while still maintaining the balancing act of plates in her hands, and it was nearly a miracle that she made it there without spilling anything. She set the plates down on a table just outside near the pool, partially because she couldn’t open the door with full hands, but also because she wasn’t sure if they were even allowed to be inside, nonetheless eating inside. It seemed like an impolite thing to assume, so she headed in with empty hands, only to find her sister sitting on the couch with their roommates. Her first instinct was to glance at Chanel apologetically, but that was only because she hadn’t had a moment to check her phone in her pocket. If she had read Chanel’s text, Holly’s ear would already be pinched between her fingers as she dragged her into another room to clarify why she thought it was okay to be disrespectful. That would still come once Makayla did have a chance to read Chanel’s text (or be told it in person), but for now she tried to suffocate the anger that was still lingering post-Jordan-interaction, and put on a fresh smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize her moronic friend wasn’t going to stay with her. Never would have left her if I thought you guys were going to have to deal with her,” she said to Chanel. She normally didn’t like to talk about Holly like she was a burden with Holly sitting right there, but she was frazzled enough that she didn’t really care right now. She noticed the off vibe as she neared them, and even if she was considerably close with Ruby at this point, it was still instinctive for her to look towards Chanel in situations like this, especially in a setting like this one where Ruby was probably more “at-home” than she or Chanel were. “What did she do?” Her words were directed at Chanel still, but with a quirked eyebrow and a “try me” cold expression, her eyes moved to look at Holly. A normal person wouldn’t have been able to tell that Holly had been causing trouble just based off of this vibe, but Makayla could tell that her sister was doing something she shouldn’t have been, in some way or another.
​

 

[lauren.]

By the time that ten thirty rolled around, all of the senior executives and in general, the "adults", were gone and it would have been hard to tell that what was going on now was part of the same party that had been occurring just a few hours ago. It wasn't a wild frat house or anything, but the atmosphere had changed distinctly, even if no one who was still there was really sober enough to realize that the transition had occurred. The sun went down, the music choices modernized, and most notably, the rate of the alcohol consumption seemed to increase dramatically. Cara wasn't as guilty as some of the others. Seated on one of the outdoor couches near the pool, she sipped a spiked seltzer as she conversed with some people she had never met. A few of them seemed to know Collin which seemed shocking to her, since she was used to assuming that he was a nobody, and since these people actually seemed fun. Cara wasn't trying to get tied down with anyone tonight, but she didn't mind the conversation. In fact, she was actually enjoying it, with some credit probably due to the alcohol for that. Maybe the alcohol deserved credit for the way that the night seemed so pretty to her tonight, too. The backyard was illuminated with tons of string lights and outdoor lights, and the moon seemed so much bigger and shinier than it normally did. Maybe Cara was too used to the light pollution in New York City, but she was overly appreciating her ability to actually things like that, and even stars, in the night sky tonight. The atmosphere of the party was surprisingly relaxing for her, and even with the whole Jordan-Makayla fight somewhere in the back of her mind since she still hadn't addressed it yet, she was feeling unbothered and happy.

The only thing that was bothering her was her shoes, but now that it was dark and everyone seemed to be abandoning their photo-ready looks, Cara didn't feel too deterred from going inside to trade her heels for flats or sandals. She wasn't sure which yet; she would have to allow the closet to speak for her once she entered it. On top of that, she also needed to retrieve her phone, as she had left it in her room hours ago to charge. With Chanel and Jordan out of eye for a bit, she was curious to see what they were up to. Plus, she had forgotten to respond to a text from Roman earlier in the evening that read, "only if you agree to watch the first 3 (?) with me bc i can't promise i've seen them already". It was the first text she responded to when she got to her room, before she texted Chanel.

To: Roman
Deal
What are you busy doing tn anyway?

To: Chanel
wyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?​

 

[BurningBridges]

Even if it wasn’t late enough to be complete, reckless, chaotic mayhem yet, most people were deep enough into their drinking that it was starting to shift in favor of that. With the “important” members of the company gone now, the business talk, the mingling, and the formalities had been put on hold. The way that people were downing beers spoke to how close many of them probably were to the industry’s infamous burnout point. Working in finance was essentially an office job, which would lead a lot of people to see it as being less stressful than working in medicine, emergency response, etc., but Collin would disagree. Granted, he had no experience in those fields to compare it with, but being responsible for hundreds of millions of dollars felt more strenuous than being responsible for a life. Capital America at its finest, maybe, but if you fucked with someone’s money, you were done. Collin was convinced that if the market ever truly collapsed, half the people in his office would die of a heart attack on the spot. These people lived and breathed numbers, and when those numbers represented exorbitant amounts of wealth that essentially represented your entire reason for being where you were and who you were, the stress was contextualized more. If the pressure wasn’t enough (and in Collin’s position, it wasn’t, since he wasn’t actually investing anyone’s money or dealing with clients personally), then the long hours were. Again, Collin wasn’t victim to this given his relationship with the company. He could essentially come and go as he pleased, but he knew how much of a toll it had on a lot of his coworkers’ lives.

The one and only Taylor had decided to grace them with her presence, and that was who Collin was currently tied up with. He stood beside her on one end of a long table that had been designated one of the five beer pong tables, with two of his coworkers, Russel and Andrew, standing opposite them. Shockingly, the best person at the table was Taylor herself. Maybe it wasn’t that shocking considering that it seemed like she was at at least three different parties every night of the week (and that it had been that way since they were teenagers), but it wasn’t unusual of men to underestimate the only girl at the table. With only two cups left opposite Taylor and Collin, and five left opposite the boys, Collin thoroughly expected the verbal jabs that the two boys were tossing at each other after both missing their shots. “You guys ever actually played this game before?” Collin called out, tossing his own ball up into the air before catching it in his hand. The taunt didn’t hold much weight when Taylor had taken out five of the eight missing cups on the other side and Collin had only hit three… but it was a team effort.

“Fuck off,” Andrew snapped back, though the smirk on his face spoke to his recognition that Collin wasn’t actually being a dick. “Coming from the guy who’s got a girl carrying the weight of his team, nothing you says means shit.” Russel chimed in then after chugging the rest of his beer and haphazardly tossing the empty bottle into the bushes behind him. He was definitely drunk; even Collin mentally cringed knowing that Russel was definitely going to be the one faceplanting on the concrete and breaking his nose or something extreme by the end of the night. “Yeah, throw the fucking ball then if you wanna talk big!”

Taylor seemed more drunk than Collin felt he was, but by now he knew that it was essentially impossible to tell when it came to Taylor because her sober personality looked the same as a normal person’s drunk personality. She seemed to be able to take copious amounts of drugs and alcohol and behave just as oddly as she potentially could sober. He could only imagine what her liver looked like at this point… but at least she had being hot in her favor. She would probably be able to find someone to donate part of theirs to her just based off of that when the time came. “Hey, hey!” Taylor interjected as Collin raised his hand to throw the ball. She smacked it down, demanding, “Ladies first!” Physically pushing Collin away from the middle of the table, she positioned herself to throw, before pausing to say, “And for the record, you all suck,” before tossing the ball into one of the two remaining cups.

Collin would let the insult slide because A: they did all suck compared to her, and B: they were that closer to winning now. “Niiiiiiiice!” he exclaimed, though knowing that the pressure was now on him and that he was 98% not going to make it and in turn, would receive deserved taunts from the guys, lower the level of that excitement considerably.

Thankfully, Taylor came to the rescue without even knowing it.

“A baby!” she exclaimed, her attention span rivaling Holly’s as she brazenly grabbed the arm of a boy walking past them. It just so happened to be Sam, who, while a few years younger than them, didn’t really look that young to Collin. “We’re going to give him his first beer!” she said, yanking Sam closer to the table without consideration of his reaction at all. The fact that he was at this party could only allow Taylor to imagine that he did drink alcohol and that he wasn’t actually a baby (since she didn’t know who he was), but Taylor liked to run with her own ideas. “And if you want to try other things for the first time tonight, I’m your girl,” she added, raising her eyebrows suggestively. It wouldn’t seem like it on the outside, but the only “things” she was referring to were drugs. Even Taylor wasn’t about to join Mr. Forrester in sleeping with people that much more immature than them. “Celeb shot! Come on, you can’t be worse than these pathetic excuses of men,” she insisted, snatching the remaining ball from Collin’s hand and shoving it into Sam’s.
​

 

[cure]

Despite Chanel having a tendency towards reckless behavior at certain times, when it came to drinking she could be a predictable, but consistent pendulum, or she could be an unpredictable Magic 8 Ball. The days of drinking just to get trashed were long behind her, and so she didn't really ever aim to get black out drunk nowadays. She actually liked being lifted just enough to have a good time without feeling like she was spinning in an endless vortex before the night was over. In a setting like this, one where she didn't necessarily belong and one that easily felt more formal even despite all of its exceptions, she aimed to be a bit more controlled in her drinking. Collin's earlier telling of previous nights like tonight only confirmed her decision that she should take it slow. Add in the fact that she still had to have enough of a tolerance to consume alcohol for tomorrow night, and she really was only looking to feel a light buzz and keep it cute. Unfortunately, though, while she was not one to easily succumb to peer pressure, she was one to easily give in to her own vice.

That was why instead of taking her time with a cute daiquiri, she was in one of the sitting rooms with a group of people where the current concern was seeing which guy gave the best lap dance. Compared to the guy who had just made out with one of the girls, after basically licking her face off, she felt incredibly sober. To be fair, though, her control group wasn't the best benchmark. On the flip side, she was still several drinks and a half away from being to where this guy was. Her phone was placed in her lap, close enough for her to grab it and post to her story when needed. She was drunker than she planned to be, but at least she hadn't reached the catch mono horny level of drunkenness. She was already reaching for her phone when it lit up--a text from Cara. She sloppily thumbed across the keypad, the effort of writing her message without error being much higher than it should have been.

To: Cara
downstairs!!!!

Chanel opened her camera to record a video of one of the newest lap dances to, underwhelmingly, Ginuwine's 'Pony'. She sent it to Cara then before sending the girl another message.

To: Cara
get your a ss done here and show these birches how it's fone!!!!​

 

[cure]

Amazingly, Roman had still managed to successfully dance back to back with his floormates. He had every intention of going right back to the city, but he hadn't been as successful in avoiding Ari as he had been (unknowingly) avoiding his neighbors. He wasn't even sure how he had remained stuck here for so long, how he hadn't been able to manage to slip away. The way that Ari was never too far away definitely gave some clue as to how it was possible, but it didn't explain how he got here at ten-thirty somehow drunk enough that he could feel the warmth in his cheeks. Roman didn't know if his liver was really so untrained now that he had become a lightweight and he was starting to blackout periodically or if time had really gotten the best of him. Fortunately for him, though, he wasn't close enough to being in blackout territory. Roman had quit using, and while he hadn't gone completely dry, he was cautious of drinking because he didn't want it to become a red herring of sorts. Even with the steep drop in substance abusive activity, it was going to take more than a few weeks for him to reduce his tolerance significantly. For one, he had been drinking in some capacity since he was a teenager. He was tall and, unsurprisingly, since he went clean he had picked up some weight. His tolerance was already high enough before the weight gain, so now having extra cushion to buffer the alcohol would really only be a step in the right direction. Simply put, he was just unfamiliar with where he was now since it had been so long since he had really gotten drunk. And to be fair, he couldn't think of the last time when he was just drunk and nothing else. He could reason that it wasn't so much that he was just that wasted instead that he had forgotten what it was like not to be crossed in some capacity because he was still quite functional. Of course, the third shot that was being forced into his hand within the past hour was not helping to keep this nice medium going for too long.

"Do not tell me you're tapping out," Ari said irritably before falling forward into him and laughing into his shirt. Roman stumbled some, unprepared for her weight. He raised his arm out as far as it could go in the crowd they stood within, trying to keep the small glass of tequila from continuing to spill down his hand. While he was still essentially playing babysitter, his worry and impatience for an escape route had both dissipated, and so there was no intentional effort in the small smile that rose on his lips. "Guys, tell him he can not tap out!!!" She spun around to face her group of friends, and again she leaned into Roman without warning to the point that he had to use his free arm to wrap it around her so that she, and him as well, didn't fall.

"I never said--"

"If you stop now, you are a bitch, bro." Adam, the boyfriend (???) of Ari's friend (???), Emma, stated, perhaps a bit too loudly even for the currently not-at-all-quiet setting they were in. "Babe, literally chill out. Oh, my god he's so annoying. Sorry guys."

"I never said I was tapping out. I'm just sick of tequila is all."

Ari reached her hand up to touch Roman's face and whined. "Oh, my god, I kind of am too though. I want vodka. Ooh! Oh, my god, oh, my god. What if we all had, like, a race and whoever loses has to jump into the pool with their clothes off."

Another friend, whose title as friend was just as questionable as the former, snorted. "I'm not fucking running in these heels, swear to God."

"No, you dumb bitch," Ari said slightly aggressively. Roman and Adam both exchanged knowing looks before glancing away, neither sure if this was just the alcohol or how they were speaking to each out right now. Throughout the night, it danced between sweet and passive aggressive. "Like a drinking race. Are we in or are we in?"​

 

[wicked]

Sam was pretty annoyed at Holly, but he was trying not to let it bother him. He didn't get why she was being so lame tonight. Going to bed at ten o'clock, when they were at a party with unlimited access to alcohol? Their siblings were busy with other things and other people; it was literally the best opportunity available to them to have a fun, summer night. On top of that, they were in the Hamptons for god's sake! What more could she have asked for? And yet for some reason, she thought it would be more fun to watch some stupid kids movie in bed. For what reason, Sam didn't know. He was used to Holly being quirky and immature, and most of the time it was just funny if not endearing, but this was one of the first times when it didn't make sense. Back at home, some of the choices she made were understandable because they didn't have anything better to do, but right now, he couldn't fathom what was going on inside of her head. Add in the fact that her sister was being a huge bitch to his brother, warranting Jordan giving him a lecture on how he needed to stop wasting his time being friends with Holly, and Sam was feeling all the more irritated at her. She was the reason he was having to deal with his brother talking down to him, and yet she wasn't going to hang out with him and make the lecturing worth it. Lame. It's okay though, Sam told himself. I don't need her. There's a million girls here. And he was right -- at least about the part of there being many girls at the party. He passed as being a college freshman, maybe even a sophomore, and after a few conversations, he had gotten his lie down pat that he knew the owner of the company that all the guests worked for, and that because of that, he was basically a big deal. Surprisingly, people actually believed him. He used Cara and Collin as a name-dropping tool with ease and he didn't think it would ever catch up to him because he was keeping a fairly low radar. Plus, he did know them. Not to the extent that he was acting, but to some extent, so he wasn't full on lying.

One of the girls that he had been conversing with for a little while seemed interested in him (albeit also very drunk...) and Sam couldn't have been more ecstatic. He promised to go get her another drink and had almost managed to do that before being blindsided with a strong yank to his forearm. Half of the beer in his own cup spilled all over him in the process (and though it probably had something to do with him being intoxicated as well, he would solely blame it on the pull), and he was ready to start a fight with the girl who did it before noticing Collin beside her. He was confused by what she was saying and looked to Collin with an expression reflecting that, but before he could even say anything she was shoving a ping pong ball into his hand and demanding that he take a shot across the table. Sam had played beer pong before and he had actually hoped to get onto one of the tables tonight if they ever cleared out from the many people standing around them, presumably waiting for a turn. He wasn't that good, but he had enough alcohol in him to be confident enough to accept the offer. The confidence and the reality of his skills didn't align, as the ball just missed the cup in the center of the table, warranting cheers from the guys on the other side. "My bad," he said, looking back to the girl and Collin. As he took a second to admire the female, he looked to Collin with a knowing grin. He's a lucky man, he thought, only assuming that this was Collin's girlfriend, or at least his hookup of the night. If she was really just an employee of Collin's dad's company, then damn, someone needed to sign Sam up to work there too.

Though he did have a twenty-something-year-old waiting for him on the other side of the lawn, and though he was competent enough to know that her attention was fleeting and he needed to get back there ASAP before she found someone older and cooler to hang out with, the dumb teenager in him was interested in seeing how this game ended. It looked like it was clearly going to win in Collin and the girl's favor, but now it was the opponents' turn to shoot, so the tides could change in a heartbeat...​

 

[A_Writer]

It probably wasn't a surprise to anyone that Holly's energy had reached level 0 within a few hours of the party starting. She was overwhelmed by the newness of the place, the masses of people, the dog, Collin's bad energy, Makayla yelling at her, and the four cupcakes that she had licked the icing off of in place of eating dinner. If she didn't have so much sugar in her, she probably would have fallen asleep much earlier, but even as ten-thirty rolled around, she was still awake. Thankfully, she was awake but tired, and uninterested in doing anything other than laying in bed watching Trolls on the big TV screen that hung on the wall of the bedroom she was in. She had already asked Makayla if they could get something like this installed in their bedroom (and unsurprisingly, received an answer she didn't want to hear). Even given the tension of the day and overlying theme of being severely overstimulated or at least overwhelmed, Holly was feeling calm and comfy now. She had what felt like a million blankets on top of her (though it was really only two, with one being a weighted blanket that Ruby had let her borrow), a silly movie playing, and two of her stuffed animals by her side. She wasn't worried about missing the party anymore because her mind was solely here, in this room.

It felt so nice when her mind finally started to slow down. Makayla had given her melatonin tonight, and that was probably playing a role in it too, but she just felt peaceful. She wasn't worried about how Sam had scoffed at her when she said that Makayla said not to go near him anymore and that she was going to bed; she wasn't worried about where the puppy was now (well, she kind of was), she wasn't thinking about if she would be able to find the lady with rainbow hair on the beach tomorrow. She was happy and sleepy, and that was enough for now.​

 

[BurningBridges]

Brooklyn was content, there was no disputing that. It was a beautiful night, she was at a beautiful house, and she was with the person that she loved more than anyone else on the planet. However, she couldn’t help but to feel bittersweet about it all, because she knew that was she was feeling was a fleeting moment of happiness. In a few days, she would be back in the city: a return to the quick paced hustle of a life that she didn’t hate, but was just growing tired of. She wanted a life like this, and while this life was unattainable to nearly the entire human population, she would take just part of it. Maybe just living in a house again instead of a small apartment, or living by the beach, or being surrounded by people who actually had goals in life. She probably still wouldn’t admit it, but inwardly, Brooklyn could acknowledge to some extent that she was more than just acquaintances with most of the people from the floor that she was here with, but even that didn’t make things better. Sure, Nick deserved being labeled as lacking in the motivation department (and Brooklyn didn’t let him forget that), but what better were the others? Roman was just as lost as Nick (with Brooklyn convinced that whatever job he had was something way too sketchy and fraudulent to actually be considered a career), and used more detrimental drugs than Nick did. Cara was going to die a Botox-infused trophy wife. Collin would probably end up killed off, his food quietly doused in eye drops, in ten years’ time by his gold-digging wife. Makayla was just another statistic, and Holly a story that would never be spoken of after her time ended, because of the deserved guilt that the world deserved to feel for failing her. Whether Chanel had goals or not, Brooklyn didn’t know, but what she did know was that if that one kept testing her patient with her little remarks, Brooklyn would ensure that she didn’t make it long enough to fulfill a single one of them. The others: Ruby, Jordan, Sam… they fell nowhere on Brooklyn’s radar of acknowledgement or care, so they didn’t count. What mattered most of all to her was that she wanted a life that she didn’t have, and everything and everyone felt like a limiting contributor to that.

Granted, just as willing as she was to point her finger at others, she was willing to point it at herself too. She recognized that she was the only person who could live her life and make decisions impacting it. She had the power to get up and move, to leave Nick, to get a degree (which she was finally (albeit slowly) working on), to make new friends. More than her environment, she knew that she was limited by herself. Maybe it was a fear of failure, of the unknown, of change… probably a little bit of all of that, topped off by knowing (and refusing to address) the traumas she had experienced years ago that left her a hardened shell of her former self.

Brooklyn wasn’t really drunk, maybe tipsy at best, but that was a good thing because it allowed her to remain controlled while thinking about all of this. Too much alcohol was usually the push she needed to lash out at Nick inappropriately over her unhappiness with where they were in their relationship and life. Sober (or close to it), and she could keep those thoughts more contained. “I don’t wanna go back to the city,” she mused, resting her head on his shoulder as they sat on the outdoor couches near the pool. “I miss being able to breathe in air that isn’t 95% toxic fumes,” she reasoned, despite knowing good and well that even if her childhood neighborhood had lots of trees and parks, it wasn't anything that distant from the city. “You’ve never lived outside of the city; would you ever want to give it a chance?” she asked, masking her displeasure with mere curiosity.​

 

[lauren.]

To: Chanel
ummmmm you take care of that for the both of us!!

Her next move was to leave her bedroom, but instead of return to the staircase, she stopped in front of a bedroom. "Hi, my love," Cara said when we stepped inside, only to find that Holly was awake. She had stopped outside of the girl's door only because she could hear the muffled sounds of the television from the hallway, and assuming that Holly had fallen asleep, she was only planning on stepping inside for a second to turn the television off so that it wouldn't wake Holly in the middle of the night. She was surprised that Holly was awake at what was a late time for her, but then again, Cara wasn't sure of what time it was exactly, anyway. It felt like it was midnight, but she knew that it probably wasn't that late yet. Seeing Holly comfy and cozy, bundled up in bed, had Cara craving the same thing, but she still had enough energy in her that she didn't give in to her craving for sleep just yet. Besides, she's wasn't about to leave Chanel out there with a bunch of people neither of them knew. Cara could be called a lot of things, but she wasn't a terrible friend like that. Nonetheless, taking a few moments out of the night to check in on Holly wasn't going to hurt anyone. "I didn't realize you were still awake," she said, stepping into the room further so that she could check out what was on the television. The screen was filled with brightly colored cartoons, something that wasn't at all surprising. "But since I barely saw you at all today, I'm happy I get to check in with you now. How was your day? Fun so far?"

"Yeah," Holly nodded, before pointing to the television screen. She was delved deeply enough in the movie that she wasn't really processing Cara's words enough to respond to them in any appropriate manner. "Poppy was throwing a party with lights and glitter and fireworks but she shouldn't have because now the chef saw them with her telescope, and she's bad. She wants to collect the trolls to eat them because that's what makes them happy but they can't because then the trolls would be eaten and dead and they're nice so we don't want that to happen," she explained, her eyes still fixed on the television screen. It probably wouldn't surprise many people that Holly preferred children's movies and television shows over ones more geared towards her age range. She did watch other movies, ones that were PG-13 (and most frequently, ones with Zac Efron in them), but as one would imagine, a lot of the jokes went over Holly's head. She didn't really care for superheroes or Harry Potter, or anything like that, but she would watch them if someone put them on in front of her. Her preference rested in movies that were G or PG rated, always had happy endings, and usually included some sort of funny animal or creature. This wasn't the first time that she was watching Trolls, but she was watching it intently enough for it to be mistaken as her first time.

"Oh my goodness, that doesn't sound good," Cara responded through a smile that she did try to pull back a bit. Holly clearly wasn't paying attention to anything other than the movie, but Cara still didn't want to seem like she was laughing, even if she did find Holly's response to be cute. While there were many (obvious) downfalls to Holly's innocence, the naivety that the girl possessed was a strength in the sense of obliviousness. She enjoyed simple things, and lived in a simple mindset of youthfulness that one could only hope she would never have to fully abandon. "You'll have to update me with how it ends tomorrow," she said, taking a few steps back towards the doorway. "If you need anything, come down and find me, okay?"

"Okay," Holly nodded, her face full of despair as she watched the ugly creature on the television screen carry off a fanny pack full of nice Trolls. With the minimal amount of attention that she was allotting for Cara, it was likely that she wouldn't even recall Cara coming into the room at all by tomorrow morning.

Cara didn't know where she was headed in particular, but she did begin back towards the party. She was glad that this year, the house staff had been competent enough to ensure that the party remained outside (and in the guest house, to an extent), and not in the main house. It was the only area of the property that was calm and quiet right now, and that realization had Cara tempted to stay inside. It wasn't that she was in a bad mood, or even tired, really, but she just wasn't in a partying kind of mood. She could still be social and have fun, but Cara was the kind of person who didn't really enjoy parties like this unless she was very drunk, and she just didn't see herself getting there tonight. She didn't want to not get there; she could just tell that it wasn't going to happen, and she wasn't necessarily bothered by that. While she did actually like feeling impulsive and out of control and irresponsible in the moment, she did know that she would appreciate feeling semi-alive tomorrow if she didn't go that far tonight. Besides, she didn't want to get crazy and sleep with any of these scum bag guys.

Judging by the backdrop of the video she had sent, it looked like Chanel was in the guesthouse so (semi) reluctantly, that was where Cara began to walk towards. She picked up a new drink on the way, only to have it knocked out of her hands (though thankfully, not on her) by some drunk guy who literally stumbled right into her arms. After offering him some unflattering words depicting how unappreciated his low IQ was, she got a new drink -- one that was a double this time instead of a single (because she deserved that at this point), and returned down the path towards the guest house. ​

 

[cure]

Sociopaths. The whole lot of them. It wasn't a direct analogy considering he was just a child when everyone else in the year were teenagers, but the flight of shots being maniacally tossed back reminded him of sixth form. When he said he was tired of tequila, he didn't mean he was trying to inhale five different types of alcohol as fast as possible. Even if Ari's boisterous behavior didn't allude to the fact that she was aggressively college-aged, the way she and her friends swallowed the liquid with a quickness certainly did the trick. Roman was a bit out of practice, and not by much in regards to age or the amount of time he'd been clean, but he knew as soon as the idea left Ari's mouth that he was screwed. He had managed not to lose, though just barely and only because Ari and Emma's drunkenness were impeding their ability to hold a shot glass stable enough and long enough to drink it. That didn't mean that as the warmth lit up the insides of his belly that he wasn't certain he was going to immediately regret it.

The girls finished at practically the same time, and Roman was sure a passive aggressive bicker was about to ensue, but instead, just as quickly as they had slammed the glass on the counter top, they were dashing towards the pool. This is a very bad idea, Roman thought to himself as he blinked heavily and made his way outside, unsure of what else to do. No matter what, Roman would find a way to be socially awkward, but at least with the alcohol in his system, he didn't overthink things and was more open to being curious. Still, he wasn't drunk enough (yet) to be able to completely disregard the riskiness of swimming in a pool, at night, after however many shots of however many kind of liquor. And yet, it was still amusing to watch the other scramble to get their clothes off. Perfectly content being the observer and trying to figure out what was going on, he stood to the side until Ari noticed him and swung her arms out accusingly. "What are you doing?"

"What?" Roman asked, genuinely confused, though it was hard to tell if it was his social ineptitude or the liquor beginning to settle in his stomach.

Ari half stumbled, half jogged to him and pulled him to the pull's edge just as Emma pushed Adam into the pool while he was in the middle of pulling his shoe off. Among the splashing and chaos, there were screams and laughter. The only thing that pulled Roman's attention away from the commotion were the hands tugged at his waistline. As if he had just landed on the planet five seconds ago without an ounce of basic deduction skills, he looked at Ari incredulously. "What are you--"

"Take your clothes off!"

"Pardon?"

"Pardon?" Ari said in a theatrical English accent as she rolled her eyes. "Might I go have a quick cup of tea with the Queen? You're getting in."

Without much protest, Roman began to slide out of his shoes. "I'm just putting my feet in."

"Why are you so boring?" Ari tossed her dress towards one of the pool chairs, surprisingly landing it perfectly. "We don't all need--" Roman began until he was interrupted by Ari tugging his shirt over his head. Once she had successfully done so, he continued, hardly even registering her stepping closer so that she could comb his hair back down. "We don't all need an excessive amount of stimulation to be entertained." Roman continued proving Ari's point as she slid her hands from his hair to his face, amazingly with a doting gaze. "And we don't all need to risk drowning to be entertained."

"Uh huh," Ari said absently, her arms now wrapped loosely behind his neck matching the way his were around her waist. She gave him a light kiss. "If you're done complaining..."

"You think I'm the one who's whinging?"

"Did you just say whinging?" Ari's head fell forward onto his chest as a ripple of laughs cascaded from her mouth. She laughed harder and harder as each secod passed, Roman himself unable to prevent cracking a smile as he shook his head. "I promise you it's not that funny. I don't know why you are still so tickled that--" Ari laughed even harder then, waving her hand back and forth as a signal for him to stop. Roman chuckled, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Do you not say tickled in America?"

"We do, but not like that."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Well, no shit not like that." Ari placed a couple of kisses on his lips as she pretended to control her laughter, though she failed miserably, especially after she caught on to the fact that Roman was trying to contain himself as well. "Stop laughing at me," he said.

"Or what?"​

 

[lauren.]

Cara had nearly reached the guest house after just a few minutes of walking. She wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of having to sit through whatever "show" the drunk people in Chanel's video were putting on, but she hoped the drink in her hands would help make it more tolerable. At the very least, she was in a decent enough mood to acknowledge that whatever fun they were having would be harmless. While Cara's standards and expectations for everything were infamously (and unfairly) high, she was trying to be more cognizant of that and lower them when appropriate. It wasn't that she was changing her tastes, but more so, becoming more aware of the fact that constantly high standards led to constantly vast disappointments, and that was no fun. She wanted to be more easily amused, more easily satisfied. It was hard, though.

Nearing the pool, Cara couldn't resist rolling her eyes as she watched people undress in front of her. Were they really that drunk already? Doing that at two o'clock in the morning, maybe even one o'clock... was one thing, but it was, what? Eleven o'clock? Really? The second hand embarrassment was real, and Cara had half a mind to snap at the house staff to kick these people out immediately, but she opted against it. She reminded herself that she didn't need to care, that it wasn't worth it to get worked up over. They were clearly fools, and no, she didn't want such trash floating around in her pool, but whatever. Just keep drinking.

She listened to her inner conscience, taking a large sip of her drink as she walked around the pool in a longer route, simply to avoid being too close to the drunk buffoons on the other side. She had gotten close enough to having a drink knocked on her already, and she wasn't about to chance it again by putting herself in a situation where it would be expected. At the very least, what that group had going for them was that they looked young. The girls couldn't have been out of college yet, Cara surmised as she analyzed them from afar while she walked past the opposite side of the pool. If she was being honest, she would have admitted to herself that she had been just as recklessly young and drunk not too long ago, doing things that her current self would cringe at. At least they were having fun, she tried to reason to herself. Embarrassingly drunk fun, but still--

Wait, was that Roman?! Cara stopped dead in her tracks. What people like Roman and Nick didn't have going for them at a party like this, was that their tattoos made them stick out almost immediately. No amount of button down shirts, freshly pressed slacks, or Santoni lace-ups could disguise them in a sea of finance bros. Given how lackluster many of those finance bros were at their core, it actually worked in Roman and Nick's favor and apparently, Cara wasn't the only one who felt that way. The girl who was shoving her tongue down Roman's thought was clearly keen on him as well.

Cara didn't know why it stung so badly to see that. At first, all she felt was surprise, and that was only because seeing Roman here was so surprising. Cara hadn't even told him that she was coming out here, and though it wouldn't have been odd at all for Brooklyn to have invited him (since she was bold enough to invite herself in the first place), Roman had specifically said that he was busy this weekend. Now, she knew with what, and that was where her reaction went from being one just of surprise, to one of hurt. Feeling it was uncomfortable in itself because she still wasn't comfortable with her feelings for Roman in the first place, but on top of that, it was just an unpleasant thing to feel. She didn't know why it felt like betrayal. She wasn't dating Roman. She wasn't even openly admitting to being a friends with benefit to him. They had never discussed being exclusive, and that didn't necessarily bother Cara. She didn't know if she even expected him to have been exclusive to her. Though she hadn't slept with anyone other than him in the past few months, she still received plenty of phone numbers when she went out to bars or clubs, and she had made out with a few people, only to then go home and sleep with Roman the same night. She supposed that she felt like they were in a different place more recently though... like they were exclusive without it needing to have been said... and if they weren't exclusive, they were at least exclusive enough that they wouldn't make out with other people in front of one another.

So, first it was surprise. Why was Roman here? Why hadn't he texted her to say that he heard she was having people over, and that he was coming?

Then it was hurt. Why would he be so cruel to either bring this girl with him to the party, or find her here, and start making out with her? As far as Cara knew, he had to know that Cara was here. It was her house, and assuming that Brooklyn invited him, he obviously could have connected the dots far enough to know that Brooklyn wasn't here without Cara. Was he really that much of an asshole? Was she right about him all along, that he was cold and heartless and incapable of being a decent person? Was everything that they had experienced over the past few months really just about the sex? Or did he get some sick thrill out of knowing that he was leading her on, turning on more than just her sex drive, all while knowing that he felt nothing more for her on his end? This was why caring about people made no sense. This was why it was so much easier to be the cold bitch who didn't invest in anything or open up to anyone. Trusting other people never did her any good, and stepping outside of her comfort zone and trying something new was an idiotic decision. She deserved the way that her throat suddenly felt like it was narrowing, as the pressure built up behind her eyes. She wouldn't dare to let a tear fall from them, despite how close she felt like they were coming.

The transition to anger, only milli-seconds after the whole ordeal started, was what she hoped would push the tears farther away, but somehow only made her feel like crying even more. She was angry at Roman. She was angry at him for being so cruel and vile, for playing her like a fool. She couldn't believe that he would have the nerve to disrespect her in her own house, with some little slut. She felt like time was moving slowly, like the music and background noises of the party had suddenly been muted. The way that his hands were caressing her bare skin, and the way that she could make out the girl's smile even with her face pressed so closely to Roman's made Cara want to toss them both in the pool, right before tossing the pool cover on over them.

Maybe her mind was just being dramatic and playing tricks on her at that point, but just before time snapped back into its normal speed setting as someone came up behind the pair and playfully shoved them both into the water, she met Roman's gaze from across the pool. If she hadn't been sure that it was him before, she was positive now. And for some reason, that was all it took for the tears to be unleashed. Not the sobbing kind of crocodile tears, but ones that stung just as badly, especially because they were nearly impossible to stifle, even as she stormed off in the opposite direction.​

 

[cure]

He couldn't tell if he was that drunk or just really enjoying this kiss right now, and that was a problem. It was a red flag that he was too intoxicated to care about right now as he didn't want to interrupt the pleasure he felt. It was these blurred lines that got him into trouble before, and it was also the reason why he wasn't trying to drink too much today. It was was far too easy for him to use other substances as a crutch. Given his disposition and his upbringing, it was a quick and slippery road to hell for him when it came to using external methods to loosen up. Now he had years of experience behind him, so the road was even slicker. In the back of his mind he could hear himself saying to pull away and go home. But it was a faint, barely registered note in his subconscious; there were far louder, far more enticing things begging for his attention. Despite this, he didn't want the simplicity to end. He wanted to pretend that things were under control and this was just him finally not overthinking things, finally just going with the flow without question or judgment. So losing himself in this kiss until he started to believe that the tingling in his arms wasn't indicative of a deeper craving that had finally become dormant was what he would continue to do. Or at least, that was the plan. He was still fully disoriented as Ari pulled away only because she saw Adam creeping towards them menacingly. By the time Roman registered what was about to happen, it was too late. And by the time he needed to do a double take to confirm that that was Cara he just made eye contact with, he was already below the water.

Once he broke the surface, he sputtered and coughed out the water he'd accidentally inhaled from being caught off guard. If he thought this was a bad idea before, it definitely felt like one now with the way his arms flailed through the water--which, for some reason felt ten times thicker than normal--in search of a surface that he couldn't seek with the chlorine obstructing his vision. For a second, he forgot about Cara, only because he was sure he was about to die in perhaps the dumbest way possible. Finally, his hand knocked against the sandpaper wall and he was then able to clear his eyes, not that it helped any because he was dizzier than he was before. Those shots were definitely a bad idea. If he didn't drown, he was going to vomit. Or worse. He was already seeing shit. Roman continued to cough as he fumbled out of the pool, looking around as he tried to place where he was in the world in the midst of all the pandemonium that now seemed much louder. The screaming and the music and the splashing were no aids as he turned his head. He was definitely seeing shit, he told himself. He wasn't sure how or when, but those sociopaths put molly or something in those shots. It didn't make any sense, but he was also too drunk to be logical right now, especially as he was panicking. When he finally spotted her, the relief from knowing that he wasn't hallucinating wasn't a great one. Instead, there was disbelief. He stumbled to his feet, losing his balance in his first attempt as the watery surface and the speed at which he was moving didn't agree with each other. "Cara?" he called, though not loud enough so that he was screaming. He began walking quickly in her direction, still feeling like he was chasing something that wasn't there.

In the middle of his trajectory, his brain thought it a good time to remind him that he had left his shirt. That was really important right now, he thought as he began to take a step towards the pool. No, no, but Cara. He danced between the two things before choosing the former, certain that he could grab his shirt and catch up with her. After he looked back, he realized he could not. "Cara!" he called louder this time. He really hoped he wasn't shouting at nothing. He really hoped he wasn't running up on a make believe figure; that he wasn't grabbing make believe arms so that he could stop and face this make believe person. And his prayers were answered. That presented a new set of problems though. A new set of problems that he had not thought of before this moment, and his stunned face spoke to the internal debate he was having with himself over praying he wasn't hallucinating off his ass versus praying that this wasn't Cara in front of him because that meant he was screwed. In his unwarranted surprise, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You're here," he said. It didn't make sense. Subconsciously, he knew that. But he was confirming that she was one hundred percent not a hallucination and that he was definitely fucked. "What--what are you doing here?" he said, his eyes narrowing in perpetual shock and disbelief. The intense concentration brought a slightly sobering moment when he realized that her face was glistening--it was wet. Why? he thought to himself, curiously moving his hand to her face, only then realizing they were tears. While he smoothed his thumb over one of her tears, he stupidly, though sincerely and with true concern, wondered "Why are you crying?"​

 

[lauren.]

Cara didn't hear Roman calling out to her, but then again, she wasn't listening for his voice in the sea of other, more distant ones. She didn't expect him to come running after her, not only because he was submerged in water with a bunch of bumbling drunk idiots, but also because he wasn't hers. He was with another girl, clearly enjoying himself. She wouldn't be so foolish as to overestimate his interest in her ever again, nonetheless right after seeing that. Even if she wasn't expecting him to follow her, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together when she felt a wet hand on her arm. While part of her imagined that she would be happy that he had chased after her, she wasn't. It was too late for whatever he was going to say; she already knew that. Yet, she allowed him to grab her arms and speak. She hadn't even consciously realized that tears were flowing until his finger brushed against her cheek, but she couldn't make them stop even when she was aware of it. Normally, Cara would have been overthinking all of this. Overthinking him kissing that girl. Overthinking the look on his face while he was doing it, or the placement of his hands against the girl's body. She would have been overthinking him running after her, or every word coming out of his mouth right now. She would have been overthinking her own actions too, the ones happening now, and the ones from the past. Right now, she wasn't overthinking anything. In fact, she was barely thinking on a conscious level at all. Thoughts were running through her mind, of course, but she didn't feel like she had control over any of them any more than she felt she had no control over the tears streaming down her cheeks. She obviously didn't want to be crying, but she was so truly taken off guard by what had just happened (and by how her mind had decided to process it all) that her emotions were in charge right now. It was something that Cara wasn't used to, nor comfortable with, but it was what it was.

"What are you doing here?" Cara snapped, restraining herself from smacking his hand away. "I really thought you were different, Roman. That I was wrong about you. That the world was wrong about you," she declared, her voice more angry than she expected it to be. Hurt and anger were emotions that always seemed to blur together with Cara. She had always had a harm time with dealing with addressing the pain without responding in a vicious manner. Right now, she wasn't replacing hurt with anger though. They were surfacing together and again, it was a feeling she wasn't comfortable with. Maybe because most of the anger was self-directed more than it was meant for him. "But I wasn't," she said, a bit more calmly then. "I wasn't wrong. You're the disgusting, selfish, good for nothing person that I thought you were when I first met you. The only thing I was wrong about was how bad you really are, because I don't think I ever would have expected that you would have the nerve to do all this. Pretend you're too busy to hang out, just to show up at my house, and strip down and make out with some girl in front of me like that..." She momentarily became more aware of the tears, maybe because they were falling faster than before now, and she swiped at her cheek in an attempt to rid them from her face. "Seriously, what did I do wrong to you to make you want to turn me into a fucking fool like this, huh? What did I do to you?" Maybe her words would sound extreme or dramatic to someone on the outside, and maybe they were. Cara was aware that she wasn't in a relationship with Roman, and she wasn't ever sure if she truly wanted that. What added to all of it on her part was the fact that she didn't know Roman worked for her father. She didn't know that he knew anyone here outside of their apartment group. She didn't know that he had any reason to be here outside of her. So, understandably, it stung more because she could only believe that he came here fully aware of what he was doing. ​

 

[cure]

The concern on Roman's face subsided slightly at Cara's fair question. This was yet another thing he had not planned for. What was he doing here? Fortunately for him, he wasn't intoxicated enough that he thought it would be a good idea to tell Cara the truth. He was still left without an excuse, though, and he was intoxicated enough to not be able to think clearly enough to be able to answer her question. His eyes shifting only made him look guiltier, his own face reflecting the question that Cara was rightfully wondering. Despite this, he was ready to explain. He was ready to right this because, in his mind, he was in deep shit, but it wasn't that deep that a quick chat couldn't solve it. They were still in reasonable territory until Cara beat him to speaking. Roman blinked slowly as he tried to follow her words and their meaning. Now he was registering the anger in her voice, and then words, and her face and her tears. "Wha-" he began, his brow furrowing as he started to shake his head in confusion.

Even the anger he had so tardily caught onto didn't prepare him for the words that came out of her mouth next. If her tears left any room to be sobered, then what she was saying now took care of the rest. If he had been sober, he would have been able to conceal it. For one, he would have had enough capability to interpret social cues, but more importantly, he would have had his guard up. It still would have stung more than he would liked to admit, because even with his guard up, he was still dancing on the edge of that boundary with Cara. In his intoxication, reason was lost. He had no reason to be so heavily guarded, and not around Cara. Not anymore--or so he thought. Even he felt his face contort in response to her biting words, but he didn't process it quickly enough to snap out of it before it was too late.

She wasn't being serious. She couldn't be, he thought as he silently search her face for this truth, only to come up empty. Like Cara, he didn't know how to respond to hurt. Well, he did, but he didn't have those options on hand right now. His mind quickly dove into rationalizing why he would do those things before he pulled back to the situation at hand. He didn't know what else to do but to go on the defensive. She had already exposed him. Was that what she wanted? Some sort of reaction? Fine. He would bite. "You're taking the piss right now." He nodded, waiting for her confirmation and slowly raising his brows to beckon her when she didn't confirm. "No? You're not? Brilliant," he said, nodding again. "So you really are full of shit and you don't even know it." He had to make up for the fact that she had actually gotten to him. That her words stung; that they meant something. The alcohol could be to blame for the added overkill, for the increasing heart rate, for the loudening voice. "You really think the world revolves around you. Like I would really come all the way out here just to-- You know what, I don't have to explain myself to you. Like I don't expect you aren't out snogging other guys when we aren't together? And if I did, it still wouldn't matter because nothing is ever right with you!"

This wasn't what he wanted. In his mind, pushing back and taking the bait was him relinquishing control, but he didn't feel any better, or any more in control. Quite the opposite, in fact. He closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to cool himself. He placed his hand over his face, trying to focus on anything else besides this conversation, before he slowly began to chuckle. "What did you do to me? All you do, Cara...is talk shit about me. Like you're too good for me, I mean did you even hear what you just said to me? But now you crucify me for it? It's all just games with you, but there's no winning, is there? It's just still about you, and the only time it's not is when I'm the disgusting, selfish, good-for-nothing heroine addict that you love me to be because in that storyline, you're always the victim. You're the only one who gets hurt while all you do is hate me until you want to have sex with me. And I'm just proper mental from all the heroine I inject for wanting to prove to you that I'm more than that. But you don't want that, do you? Because you'd rather live in your fairytale land where you're always right, and where it somehow makes sense in your mind that I would open up to you and want to be around you and want you to not see me as this scum because I hate you and only want to hurt you."

His mouth was cottony when he quieted, not realizing until then that he'd unleashed a monologue. Definitely not the kind of control he had in mind, never mind the fact that it probably wasn't the least bit coherent. "Not that you'll believe me, but I'm here for work. I didn't come out all this way because I magically knew where you'd be this weekend and decide to kiss some girl in front of you to be a prick. But if I did, I don't know if I'd blame myself. And if I may, you have mighty high expectations for someone you love to look down on."​

 

[lauren.]

Cara didn't do "hurt" well, and she couldn't do "hurt and angry" well together, but as Roman spoke, she was reminded that she could do "angry" on its own. She could definitely do angry on its own, especially with cruel words being slung her way first (or, in her mind, first). With the way that Roman was talking, "angry" was exactly the direction her mind was headed in. He really had some nerve showing up and doing all of what she had just berated him for doing, but then to chase her down to speak to her like this!? Now, she needed to add "stupid" to the list of insults she had called him a beat before. He was a complete and utter idiot. She could feel the fire brewing within her, and she hated how even now, it wasn't capable for her to fully switch back into her old self. The old self that would have cursed him out without feeling anything else other than anger and hatred. Even if she was feeling anger in all of its form, the hurt was still simmering within, and that in itself made her want to vomit. She was able to suffocate it enough to allow the anger to dominate her current state, but it was still still there somewhere.

He did have to explain himself to her because he was at her house! If he hadn't been so disrespectful, they never would have been in this predicament. If he had been back in New York City right now doing this with some slut, Cara might have been hurt still if she had heard about it, but the point was that she never would have heard about it. She and Roman were in a weird place with whatever they had going on, and while she didn't like the idea of him sleeping with other people, she also wasn't dumb enough to believe that he had been monogamous this entire time, with no label on their relationship. What really had her believing that he was just another dirty, heartless man was how he was so brazen about it, here. Showing up to her house without notice just to do this -- it was sickening, but she shouldn't have put it past him. And now he was trying to claim it was work related. Cara didn't believe it for a second, but if he wanted to play that card, fine. Cara notoriously kept out of her father's business, but at the same time, when Cara wanted something done, she wanted something done. If that meant demanding that one of his assistant's reach out to every client that was at the party to determine if Roman actually worked for one of them (and then proceeding to demand he be fired due to misconduct), then so be it. It was that anger speaking, probably. And for some reason, it felt all the more satisfying as she spoke. "Oh yeah? Work? Well, I hope you enjoyed whatever the fuck it was that you did, because just know that by Monday you'll be back on the the unemployment line." Why did it feel satisfying? Why did it feel like the only way to respond to being hurt was to hurt back, ten times worse? Cara had been so happy when she had found out that Roman was doing something remotely-respectable career wise (though she honestly still had no idea what he was doing). It was a good move for him. It was healthy. Was it normal to want to destroy someone for only moderately hurting you? It didn't matter-Cara would justify it to herself no matter what.

"So, fuck you. I absolutely will crucify you because you deserve it, and you attempting to spin this on me just proves that, as if I did anything wrong other than exist in my own house," she shot at him. "Now why don't you go get your herpes-ridden girlfriend out of my pool and go back to the pathetic life you have in the city? We both know you don't belong out here, so do us both a favor and get lost."​

 

[cure]

Why? Why her of all people did he have to feel like this for? If this was anyone else, he wouldn't have started to regret what he had said--even if Cara's corresponding response wasn't any sort of motivator. He wasn't totally unphased by it. He did bite his tongue hard enough that he began to taste metal. His jaw did tighten as he watched her lash out. But this was just a tantrum. Not all of it. He knew she wasn't hyperbolizing that last bit about the herpes-ridden girlfriend and getting out of her sight. He took that seriously, but not as much as he would have had it not succeeded her threat at getting him fired. That was typical Cara. It shouldn't have amused him. Now was a really bad time to be tickled by her Cara-ness, because despite how things seemed, he actually didn't want to make things worse with her. But he felt the smirk pushing past his tightened frown as he closed the space between them. It was hard to make standing over someone not seem like a power move, but Roman didn't look down to her intimidatingly, even if the motion was to emphasize that he wasn't going anywhere. He searched her face again, resisted the urge to touch her tears. "Why are you upset?"

Cara didn’t even need to think her thoughts at this point. She was more than willing to say them out loud. “Are you deaf? Did you not hear anything that I just said?” She stepped backwards, purposely increasing the space between them. In what world did he think she would want to talk to him after he had just made out with that slut in front of her? She still wanted to know why he was really here, because she wasn’t buying the work line at all, but she also didn’t care because that was that and this was who Roman really was. She was to blame more than he was. Caraline knew that when someone showed you their true colors, you were supposed to believe them. In her mind, Roman had purposely went out of his way to hurt her. As someone who was already heavily guarded (and knowing that he knew that too), it made the cut sting all the more strongly. It made her want to never open up to anyone again... or begin to open up to anyone ever again, because she wasn’t even sure if what she and Roman had so far could be considered truly opening up. Maybe it was just sex, as he had said.

Roman closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He reached his arm out to grab the front of her dress, tugging her towards him as he stepped forward. There was a much more direct way to ask what he was trying to get at, but as was evident by the current discussion at hand, the two didn't not have the most compatible conversation style--namely because they were the exact same. The fact that each of their guards were up higher than before, it made things even more challenging. "Don't be daft. You know what I'm asking you, Cara," he said. "Tell me." ​

 

[Bandit_]

Makayla would readily admit that today had been a good day even with life fucking her life it always did. She could never have a perfectly smooth day, but she was comfortable with that at this point. She was used to the little things: Holly acting up, someone irritating her, being reminded of how poor it was. All of that was mundane at this point. It still bothered her in the moment—Holly was definitely reprimanded for how she had apparently acted, Jordan was put in his place, and Makayla was still self-aware of her place in the world. However, she recovered because she was in an environment where wallowing in self-pity wasn’t conducive of anything. Ruby kept her spirits high. They had dinner, they had drinks, and Makayla smoked with Nick. She was in a good mood and for once, she was aware of it enough that she would actually be able to admit that she was happy.

Every forty-five minutes or so, she found herself back in the main house. She knew that Holly was fine, and thankfully, this time that she went to check on her, the girl was finally asleep. Makayla turned the television off, left a glass of water at her bedside, closed the blinds (in hopes that Holly would actually sleep in tomorrow), and tucked her in. She hovered over the girl for a few moments before leaving; her mood compatible with her being able to appreciate her sister for a moment. Obviously, Makayla loved Holly. A lot of their interactions were based on Makayla attempting to keep Holly grounded, but their relationship wasn’t those interactions. There was a lot of love there, and even if it wasn’t constantly shown in hugs and kisses, it was still there. Makayla detested the idea of being thrown into motherhood under these circumstances and she actively liked to remind herself that she wasn’t Holly’s mother, but she loved Holly in a way that she imagined only a mother could love their child. The number of times that Makayla had went without just to do her best to ensure that Holly didn’t was countless at this point, and she would do it whenever it was needed without a second thought.

It probably had to do with how high she was, but Makayla would blame accidentally taking a long lap around the main house instead of directly cutting over to the guest house on it being dark and her being unfamiliar with the property. She didn’t mind the walk anyway; the ocean air felt so clean and renewing. Part of her didn’t want to return to the house where a group of people had seemed to congregate, but she missed Ruby already, and she also was lucky enough to know that this wasn’t her only night here.

As she walked into the guest house, she peered into the kitchen where she had previously left Ruby. It had cleared out some by then, and it didn’t surprise her that Ruby had made an exit too once her gaze drifted over a girl sitting on the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around a boy standing in front of her whose tongue was buried deep within her throat. Part of Makayla wished she had been free enough to be young and stupid like these kids. She had to grow up fast and even though she was still “young” now, she wasn’t young enough to get away with acting like that. It wasn’t even age though, really. More so responsibilities. Makayla could never let go enough to be irresponsible with her own well being when she had someone else relying on her too. She was cognizant of that, and it was why the only times that she had gotten intensely intoxicated with substances in the past were low points when she truly hadn’t cared if she survived it til the next morning. She was high enough now to feel like her guards were down more than they ever could be sober, nonetheless in a house full of strangers, but she wasn’t waiting in line to get her stomach pumped. She was more high than drunk anyway, and maybe the ambiance and vibe of the party deserved some of the credit too, but Makayla was convinced that whatever Nick had given her had been higher grade than what she was used to.

She spotted Ruby in the sitting room that she peered into next. There was a fair amount of people in there, all clearly intoxicated, but Makayla wasn’t automatically grossed out by anyone other than the person Ruby was talking to. She had to minutely wonder if Jordan really was as fucking annoying as she immediately felt him to be, or if she needed to ask Ruby for a Xanax prescription. Luckily, Makayla spotted Chanel on the other side of the room and though she felt inclined to save Ruby from Jordan, since she felt Ruby was far too nice to tell him to fuck off like he deserved, she would monitor from afar for a few minutes. She wanted to see how Chanel was doing, anyway. Chanel was no Holly, but as her roommate, Makayla felt inclined to make sure that Chanel was doing okay too. She didn’t doubt that Chanel could take care of herself, especially at a party like this where Makayla assumed she knew some of these people through Cara. However, Chanel was a gorgeous girl and that in itself made her a target, and Makayla would be damned if she let a man on the planet fuck with a single person she cared about ever again. It was why, even as she approached Chanel, she glanced back at Ruby once more just to confirm that she was seeing things correctly and that Ruby really did look okay.

“How lit are you?” Makayla demanded through a giggle as she flopped down onto the couch next to Chanel. The laughs coming from the people around them and the close proximity of some drunk bro suggested that something had just happened between Chanel and him. He was lucky that Makayla hadn’t seen his attempt at a lap dance, because her laughter definitely would have been more obnoxious than the others’. As the next song started, Makayla realized what was happening though, and nudged Chanel, “Where the fuck is Brooklyn to put these amateurs to shame?” Even though she was content being high, she wished she had grabbed a drink before sitting down, if for no reason other than to have something to hold to keep her hands occupied. “I was surprised when I first saw her out there. I thought she just made bank because she has that Marilyn Monroe classic look going for her, but girl, she actually knows what she’s doing! Even with no ass she has people coming back every week just for her!”​

 

[lauren.]

Parties like these weren’t Ruby’s typical first-choice night out and she did feel kind of awkward at them. They reminded her a lot of the parties that kids used to throw in high school and college. She was never friendless, but she was always academic-focused and she didn’t have friends who threw parties like this. She knew that they went on, but she was never really invited (nor did she make an attempt to get an invite). Her sexuality had probably always had something to do with it in an underlying sort of way. In her mind, parties like these always ended up in people getting drunk and hooking up (and she wasn’t too off with that assumption). Dodging unwanted advances was mildly annoying, but she was more uncomfortable with having to explain to her friends why she rejected everyone who made an advance on her. Her friends wouldn’t have judged her for being gay, but she had only recently become comfortable with her sexuality herself, so there was no way that she would have openly spoken about it to friends years ago.

With that in mind, she certainly wasn’t making advances on other girls back then, so being surrounded by drunk, horny people just didn’t sound like a good time to her. It still didn’t, but the difference now was that she was more comfortable in her own skin, existing simply for her own pleasure. She didn’t mind making small talk with people even if she didn’t always feel like she was good at it. She didn’t mind being more sober than everyone else, and nursing her drinks for as long as she wanted. She was at an age where she felt like the friends she had would accept her for who she was, sexuality wise and all. Granted, Ruby wasn’t shouting from the rooftops that she was gay, and she definitely wasn’t open about it to her family, but it wasn’t something she went out of her way to hide from people socially nowadays. She doubted Chanel or Cara or anyone other than Makayla knew, only because by default, people just assumed others to be straight. Ruby did it too; it wasn’t something that she would judge others for doing. It wasn’t deep anyway; she didn’t want people to know anymore than she didn’t want them to know, and she was relieved that at this point in her life, it wasn’t something that clouded her thoughts in social situations.

Right now, it only came to mind because she was with Makayla and it was one of the few times that they were hanging out in public. Since they were roommates, it was obviously easy to hang out at home, and then throw Holly into the mix and it made all the more sense that it was just easier to do things in the comfort of their own apartment. If they did stuff outside of the apartment, it almost always involved Holly anyway, so Ruby didn’t think of those as being dates or anything that anyone would suspect to be something out of roommates just hanging out. Holly was a common connection between a lot of people on the floor, having a lot of power to persuade people to join her on adventures with other people they normally wouldn’t hang out with. Ruby had been excited for this weekend but she expected most nights to end this way: with her actually having a chance to hang out with Makayla in a more relaxed social setting. Granted, that brought its own set of concerns since Ruby knew and respected Makayla’s desire to keep whatever-they-were on the low, but it still seemed like a step in the right direction.

When Makayla stepped out to go check in on Holly, Ruby took the opportunity to refill Makayla’s drink for her (since her own was still almost completely full), and find a few water bottles. The group that they had been socializing within (although not directly with) had transitioned further into the house, and rather than being left with a couple who Ruby was so inclined to toss a condom at (for their own protection!!), she followed the masses inside. She wasn’t quite sure where Jordan had come from, as she hadn’t seen him earlier, but she didn’t immediately look for a way out when he approached her with a friendly smile. She knew that Makayla disliked him, and honestly, she didn’t blame her. Jordan didn’t seem like a bad guy at all but after hearing about how Holly had somehow ended up sleeping over Jordan’s house, she couldn’t blame the uneasiness. She didn’t think Jordan did anything, but the whole point was that he was responsible for his brother, and the concern was that his brother could have done something. If Jordan was irresponsible enough to not know what his brother was doing, that was his own business, but when he started unknowingly hosting minor girls in his house, that was when it became harder not to side eye him. Even considering all of that though, Ruby didn’t have any personal problem with him and needless to say, Makayla was now quite adamant in making sure that Jordan didn’t mess with her family anymore, so Ruby felt like that was being properly (if not overly) handled.

"I didn't realize you and Cara were such good friends!" Ruby exclaimed, meaning it with no harm, as she stood opposite Jordan in one of the corners of the room. She genuinely didn't realize that Cara had befriended Jordan enough for him and his brother to be an expected invite. Ruby was surprised that Cara hadn't backed out on letting herself, Makayla, and Holly come to this. The others: Nick, Roman (who Ruby didn't even realize wasn't here... or wasn't thought to be here), and Brooklyn were just as unexpected, but by now, Ruby had caught up enough on how they were all connected. She still didn't fully understand the relationships, especially now that everything seemed peachy when just months ago Nick had nearly killed Collin, but that was a whole other story. As far as Ruby knew, Jordan had no underlying connections--Cara only knew him from the floor in the same way that everyone else did. "Or are you closer with Collin?" she followed up. Poor Collin--always the second thought. She extended one of the water bottles in her hand towards him. Jordan wasn't one of the little birdies Ruby felt inclined to keep under her wing, but even acquaintances deserved to be well hydrated. Ruby hadn't noticed Makayla's return, or else she probably would have excused herself to join the girls.​

 

[lauren.]

In all seriousness, with how this conversation was going, Cara really wasn't comprehending what Roman was asking. Even if she was in a mental state where she could have taken it all in and processed it properly in the moment, it was hard to say whether she would have responded differently. Cara's pride was big and most importantly, as the overlying theme seemed to be, she didn't know how to feel "hurt" in a healthy way. Her response was instinctively to lash out and hurt whoever hurt her. Hurt them in a way that would ensure that they would never try to hurt her again. It was self-destructive just as much as it was outwardly destructive, because in situations like this one, Cara was ensuring that something that she had wanted (and potentially still wanted) would never come to be. The survival mode in her told her that it was better that way... that it was necessary. She needed to think with her head, not her heart. It overpowered the softer side of her that wanted her to just give in and let Roman actually explain himself in a way where she was actually listening with openness, and not just waiting for him to finish talking so she could verbally assault him. Cara's mind was still consumed by Roman's brazenness. To show up at her house to hook up with some other girl. His work excuse didn't make sense, and she didn't care to consider how it might possibly make sense. She felt like she was being disrespected, lied to, and taken for a fool, and when she had already been so hesitant about allowing herself to have feelings for Roman, it made her react even more strongly.

Normal Cara probably would've continued to fight with Roman, partially because she didn't want this to be happening and there would have been a part of her clinging to the hope that the conversation would somehow end on a positive hope, and also partially because Cara always had to get the last word in. This Cara was on autopilot mode and her head was in charge. She didn't respond to Roman verbally, though the way that her eyes had welled up with tears again probably spoke for itself as she pulled away from him and stormed back off in the intended direction.​

 

[cure]

Chanel had always required a lot of attention in the way that she didn't like being bored, so it was both surprising and sensible that she was so good at keeping herself entertained. Part of the fun of being drunk was the very beginning, when the buzz was sliding ever so slowly into drunkenness. The goofiness in front of her wasn't actually that entertaining, but knowing that it was just the alcohol playing a larger role made it all the more enjoyable. If things could be like this all the time, she wouldn't complain. Chanel wasn't wishing for stupid lap dance competitions, but rather that things could be as simple and carefree as they were at parties. It wasn't always fun being the archetypal carefree girl as even that came with expectations. There were plenty of times when she wanted to be the one being pushed to edge of her comfort zone instead of being the persuader. At parties, alcohol and drugs took on that persuasive role. Guards were down, minds were quieted, and things just happened as they were.

She pulled her attention away from the commotion happening a few feet away to turn to Makayla, her mouth opening in pleasant surprise at the sight of the girl. She pinched the air between her thumb and pointer finger in response to her question, indicating that she was just a wee bit lit. "Oh my gosh, you're so right! But let them enjoy their fantasy land. They're men, so you can only expect but so much from them. At least it's hilarious," she said, beginning to thumb through her phone for footage. "Literally submitting this to Sundance." She leaned back into Makayla, deciding the girl made a better cushion than the couch she was sitting on. "I'm surprised that Brooklyn is so successful in a customer service job, but I'm not surprised by those details. I bet you could teach them a little suhn suhn." She attempted to wink, but instead closed both of her eyes alternately. "Do you ever get to go up on stage and show the girls a thing or two? Ooh! You could teach me. Please, please!!!" Chanel stood up, placing her drink on the table in front of them before turning to face Makayla. "Okay," she said, pulling her hair up. "I'm working for tips. What's the first step, do I just like sit on you and hope you get hard?" She turned around and flopped onto Makayla's lap, raising her arms above her head to move to the rhythm of the music. "Have I made a benji yet? Have I officially indoctrinated you into being my sugar mama?"​

 

[BurningBridges]

Whether Taylor was actually mentally present enough to realize that Sam missed the shot was debatable. She flung her arms around the boy, embracing him in a tight squeeze, as she whispered, “Don’t even listen to these pigs! Boys are so immature! Girl power forever, bitch!” into his ear. Similarly, it was arguable that Taylor had no idea who she was talking to, or that he too, was a boy. Molly was one of her favorite drugs. While she didn’t notice how erratic she sometimes behaved on drugs while high on them, Taylor was the kind of person who never even regretted last night’s actions the next morning once the drugs were out of her system. It was why it was so hard to tell when there were actually drugs in her system making her behave a certain way, or if it was just a personality. Her behavior was already pretty out there sober, and a lot of the time, the only way to tell was to look at her eyes. Right now, her iris was nearly entirely shielded by her oversized pupils.

“Just fucking go,” Collin snapped at his two opponents who were still reveling in the way that Sam’s poor shot had saved them from a close call of a loss. They were still down by a few cups, and after both missing their shots a beat later, they were back to being quiet. Taylor’s arms were still wrapped around Sam when Collin turned back to them. It was hard to feel bad for Sam (who understandably could have been freaked out by how Taylor was) when she was also hot. Not many guys could complain about having her draped over them. Collin was one of them for the most part, with the only difference being that because he was her friend, he also had to look out for her. It wasn’t a secret that Collin was a good guy (if only because he was too anxious sometimes to not default to doing the right thing), and as attracted as he was to Taylor, it was hard to consider whether he would actually sleep with her if she ever made a move, if she was acting the way she always acted. Even though it seemed like her baseline, he knew that he would be too consumed the whole time with worrying about whether she was actually okay and if she would regret it the next morning.

"All right, chill, chill," Collin said, gently tugging Taylor backwards in an attempt to free Sam from her grip and from whatever likely-bizarre things she was whispering to him. He considered warning Taylor that Sam was only seventeen, not because it was illegal given that he was technically old enough, but just because he was sure that even for her, sleeping with someone who was still in high school would not be on the bucket list. "Just so you know whose follow request to not accept in the morning, this is my friend Taylor," he said, only half-joking as he looked over to Sam. He didn't remember that Sam had been around the night that Taylor had come over to Roman's place for Chanel's party, so it didn't even cross his mind that they had potentially met then. It was a good thing that it didn't cross his mind too, because Collin was still interested in inquiring more about what the hell Sam had been doing with Holly that night anyway. He had gotten too much shit for a role that he did not play in apparently endangering the child, and Sam deserved at least a little flack for that.

"You are a dumb, little, sweet, cute, angel, devil, child, weather reporter of a lamb to think that I don't know my own brother!" Taylor exclaimed, lightly punching Collin in the shoulder as she feigned offense at Collin's lack of knowledge regarding Sam apparently being her brother. "I thought you knew me, Collin Michael Forrester," she continued, completely making up his middle name as she ignored the yells coming from across the table to hurry up and throw already. "But I guess not!" Her voice was suddenly chipper again as she grabbed one of Collin's hands with both of hers, and yanked him away from the table area. "Tonight, we are going to renew our vows as best friends slash lovers slash business partners slash sister wives!" she exclaimed with a laugh.

The things coming out of her mouth were definitely stranger than usual, but Collin doubted that she could say anything strange enough to really have him concerned, simply because of how strange most things she said were. He didn't have a second to apologize to Sam on her behalf or even finish the game, though he did whip the balls back in the direction of the guys, hoping that he had thrown them hard enough to at least hit one of them in the head. "What are you on, because as always, you're about ten thousand levels of intoxicated above everyone else?" he asked, catching up to her speed just to avoid his arm being pulled out of its socket any further. His tone remained curious, not accusatory, and he didn't really expect any sort of helpful or truthful answer, but it felt like it was worth asking regardless. Collin wasn't familiar enough with any drug aside from marijuana, so it wouldn't have crossed his mind to examine Taylor's face to find the answer to his own question.​

 

[Bandit_]

Makayla found herself laughing at Chanel’s antics more carelessly than she normally would have. She always found Chanel to be entertaining, and while they did hang out sometimes to smoke, she and Chanel weren’t actual friends. Well, Makayla would consider her to be a friend, but that was only because she had so few social connections. She knew, however, that Chanel had real friends. People to talk on the phone with, people to get lunch with, people to go out with. Even if she considered Chanel to be someone that she felt friendly towards, she was aware of the differences between her own social circles and those of normal people in their age 20s. Even if she had considered Chanel to be her best friend, being loud and open and chatty just wasn’t Makayla’s thing. Considering that, it made sense that it took some environmental influences for her to become more outgoing sometimes, even with someone she lived with. “Girl, you know I would not be broke as hell 24/7 if I did anything other than carry drinks to people at that place!” she said, shaking her head and wondering if it was just her high that had her feeling this amused.

While Makayla could have used the money that strippers made at the nightclub, she doubted that she would ever do it, even if the opportunity was presented to her. For one thing, she knew that the opportunity would not be presented to her that easily, since getting a job stripping at an upscale place like the one they worked at was not easily. More importantly though, it just wasn’t something that she saw herself being able to mentally tolerate at this point in life. Having spent a few years reliant on prostitution to keep herself and Holly alive, Makayla had a lot of trauma (on top of unrelated childhood trauma) store within that she had never even attempted to unearth. Even if she had willingly participated in sex work, and even if she wouldn’t ever claim that she felt like she had been raped, she did feel like she had been sexually assaulted several times. Men never wanted to stop with what they had agreed on and oftentimes if the money hadn’t been given to her beforehand, Makayla would just go along with it in fear of losing all of the money otherwise. Lines were often blurred, things were often too rough, and by the end of it all, Makayla had been left feeling like a shell of herself. Her body had disgusted her for many years and sometimes, it still did to this day. She had been making attempts recently to make it feel like home again, to reclaim the skin that housed her soul, but it was hard. She knew that the strippers at the club she worked at were in a different position. They had physical security and legal security, as what they were doing was legal, and they weren’t actually performing sex acts on anyone (and if they were, they were making thousands of dollars, which definitely put it in a different ballpark than any she had been in). Still, the thought of men even thinking about her body left her feeling queasy, so she couldn’t imagine ever willingly flaunting it in front of them, even for money. Then again, right now she was at a point in life where she was financially stable (with financially stable for her just meaning that she wasn’t overdue on rent at the moment), and she knew better than to cast anything off as being impossible at this point. “But with your body, you wouldn’t need to know shit anyway,” she laughed. “Find a divorced white guy in the peak of his midlife crisis with too much money, sit on his lap just like that, and you’ll have mad money by the end of the night!” she insisted. "Orrrrrrrr do the smart thing since you're young and hot, and just marry rich. Has anyone figured out if Collin is gay or not because..."

 

[cure]

"Oh, stop it." Chanel couldn't honestly say she had ever truly wondered about Collin's sexuality. She would be lying, however, if she said she would have been surprised if he was. It was hard to pin him down since he was such a background floater. "He's just shy," she reasoned. "If you get him drunk enough, he's like an alter ego. Like Nicki Minaj's Roman. Or Beyonce's Sasha Fierce." Chanel reminisced on how different Collin could become when he was intoxicated enough. It was pretty funny, but she had never been sober enough when it occurred to actually enjoy it for what it was. "He clearly has good taste. Brooklyn, that girl with the dark hair he brings around, and then I guess you can count me sort of. The point being," she said, pulling herself back to the matter at hand. "You could definitely be in the running if you put your sneaks on, girl, so go ahead and make your move. And I'll take the divorced white guy next year since you chose to give me this advice after they all left."

Chanel casted an annoyed glance towards Makayla before rolling her eyes. As she pretended to be upset with her roommate, she thought back to her infrequently she'd seen her today. "What have you even been up to today? Feels like I haven't seen you since Obama was president," she mused. "You better not do that tomorrow! And you better be super litty tomorrow too. Like, how lifted are you right now? Because I'm gonna need allll of this"--she waved her palm towards Makayla in a circular motion--"to be times ten mañana, okur? Get you some liquid confidence so you can make a move on Col and get us out the hood. Having to open the door on my own is the definition of ghetto." Chanel knew their neighborhood wasn't the hood by any stretch of the imagination. To some, though, namely those with an obscene amount of money yet impoverished self-awareness, it was as ghetto as ghetto got. "Nothing below the Upper East Side and wherever else the rich people here live."​

 

[wicked]

Cara's family knew how to throw a good party. Even if Jordan came in knowing very few people here, he had spent most of the evening socializing and making friends with strangers. By nightfall, his uplifted mood had been restored, and his level of intoxication had him blending in with many of the other drunks roaming around the grounds. Being this drunk wasn't an automatic bad look for him, though. He wasn't slurring his words or on the brink of vomiting. He wasn't wasted to a point where he was doing anything stupid, but he had taken enough shots to recognize that he was drunk, not just tipsy. The point of parties like this was to get drunk though, so Jordan wasn't embarrassed. He had networked enough earlier in the day that he felt like he had done something of benefit to offset being less serious now.

"I mean, don't go telling her that I claimed she was my best friend or anything because I'm not, but I think we're friends. I haven't really gotten to known Collin much. Cara says he's quiet, but he's younger too, I think. Seem like a cool family overall, though." Jordan did consider Cara to be a friend and he was happy about having made a friend in the apartment. Other than Makayla, he didn't think that anyone else disliked him, but he also hadn't really gotten to known any of them. He wasn't brand new to New York or desperate for friends, or else he probably would have put more effort into getting to know some of them, with Ruby being a good example. She was clearly a really nice girl, and apparently very intelligent as well. He wasn't sure if he would have pinned her as being a medical doctor upon first glance, but he gave he was impressed by it nonetheless. "Do you know where she is, by the way? I haven't seen her in a while and I know Chanel's over there. Figured the two of them would be hanging out." It absolutely could have been that the alcohol was bringing out the worst in him and that seeing Cara's magnificent house and her connections was what was turning him on the most, but whatever it was, he had been mulling over whether he had a chance with the blonde for most of the night (or at least, most of the night post the eighth or ninth drink). He wasn't going to say that to Ruby, but it was what was prompting him to question the girl's whereabouts.​

 

[lauren.]

Ruby had barely seen Cara all day, but it wasn't anything that warranted the sounding of alarm bells in her head. This was Cara's house and even if it wasn't technically her party, it felt like it was by default, since she was the eldest Forrester left on the premises. Ruby doubted that Mr. Forrester wanted Cara, of all people, to be representing him at this corporate party, and she was sure that the department managers were supposed to be keeping their employees in check, but for the people who didn't work there, it automatically felt like Cara was the host. While they weren't separated from the company party guests in any physical sense and all probably blended in fairly well outside of Holly and maybe Sam, they were spending the weekend here and were only here for recreational purposes, so it was different. It felt different to Ruby at least, but judging by how relaxed everyone seemed, maybe it wasn't. She couldn't imagine herself letting down her guard so freely at a professional event, but then again, Ruby wasn't into these parties very much to begin with, even in a purely social aspect.

"No, I'm not sure," Ruby said, shaking her head. "Here, let's ask Chanel; I'm sure she'll know." She didn't know if Chanel would have any idea, but the suggestion was an easy out once she noticed that Makayla had returned and was sitting next to Chanel. She wasn't looking to get rid of Jordan, but she did want to get back to Makayla, so it was more of a "kill two birds with one stone" situation. She approached Chanel and Makayla with a smile, her eyebrows slightly lifting as she met eyes with Makayla and gave her a quick one-over glance to make sure that she looked okay. She did -- definitely intoxicated, but her affect seemed appropriate and upbeat. She handed Makayla the water bottle she had in her hand without speaking on it, mostly because she was speaking to Chanel as she did it. "Hey! Jordan was wondering where Cara is. Have either of you seen her?" ​