Now at 5-ish shots, Max pushed too hard at Lemon's secrets and got himself slapped. Nothing about this should be remotely surprising.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
Lemon didn't answer Max's question. Again.
Max groaned in frustration, reaching for the bottle again, though he knew that he wasn't going to be told what he felt he needed to know.
She convinced him to start drinking. Max had always said that he was never going to drink. He spent all that time begging Isa to stop, now Lemon...
Lemon said she'd answer any question truthfully, in exchange for getting to watch him down another shot. Now he'd taken four, and she hadn't told him a thing.
She didn't want his help. She didn't want him to do anything.
She just kept asking him to stop, to leave her alone, to stay out of her problems.
What kind of a friend would Max be if he left people to suffer alone?
He'd always told himself that people shouldn't be left alone. People who say the things that Lemon had said... if he left her alone and something happened to her, then...
There was a hypocrisy in this line of thinking that he didn't want to think about. If he thought about it, it would feel real.
As soon as it had come over him, the sudden high of confidence he'd found had crashed back down, and he was left alone with this muddled, alcohol-drowned mutation of the anxiety that he had come to accept as his normal.
His hands couldn't shape the words he wanted to say. His fingers had gone numb, his arms feeling heavy and imprecise. He had to do this another way, because he couldn't just sit there and be quiet. The thought of letting this drop felt like a knife at his throat.
He grabbed his phone and side-eyed back at Lemon until she did the same.
why are you pushing?
because you're trying to push people away so you can be alone and hurt more
I’m not like Isa
Yes you are
You're drinking to forget about things
You're hiding from people
You're hurting yourself
You think your life is ruined and you want to die and you think you ruined other people's lives
You're just like that
You’re acting like a knight in shining armor and you’re nothing but a broken kid.
Was that what Lemon thought she was?
...She said that about him, not herself. The association didn't click.
Max wasn't broken. She wasn't talking about him. He was talking about what she felt. This wasn't about him. He was fine.
Max didn't have problems. Lemon had problems.
He couldn't wrap his head around the idea that people couldn't see that. Broken.
He turned off his notifications and dropped his phone down at his side, refusing to acknowledge that last statement. He had absolutely nothing to refute it with-- maybe because on some level, deep down in the darkest hole of his subconscious, he knew that it was true. Broken. Broken. Broken.
He had nothing to say but to apologize, to admit that he was lying to himself. He couldn't do that, so he said nothing.
His turn to play the silent treatment lasted hardly a second before Lemon's hand slashed into his face, smacking him square in the nose.
Max cut off a startled cry by quickly clamping his hand over his mouth, immediately feeling blood trickle down the back of his palm.
No way. No fucking way. Did Lemon seriously just break his nose?
It wasn't broken, just bleeding and stung, but Max was still in shock. He just got hit. His friend, the most pacifistic person he knew....
He couldn't believe it.
Coughing out the breath he'd been holding, he hurriedly dragged himself to his feet and marched back into the house as fast as he felt that he could without falling over, only remembering to turn back and retrieve his phone at the last minute before he kicked the door back open and disappeared into the hallway.
He spent the next 10 minutes helplessly wandering the halls trying to find the bathroom. The Moore's house was an ostentatious-but-elegant seaside mansion that definitely had more than one bathroom, which meant that Max must have walked past it several times before he finally found it.
He spent a long time just staring blankly at the mirror, after he'd finished up. Weakly leaning on his elbows over the marble countertop, not noticing he'd left the faucet running. He couldn't hear it, after all, so he had no reminder that he'd forgotten. Max would have cut off his own hand for wasting water.
His nose had stopped bleeding and he was able to clean most of it off, but the red mark that Lemon's hand had stricken over his cheek contrasted starkly over his paper-white face, that already stained with a drowsy blush. He brushed his fingers over the abrasion and winced.
No matter how long he peered into them through his reflection, his pale blue eyes looked glassy and unfocused, like he was feverish. Or drunk.
But he wasn't drunk.
Even if he wasn't willing to admit that he was under the influence, at the very least Max had to admit to himself that he looked that way. Broken kid.
Max considered hiding out here for the rest of the night, until everyone else went home. He just wanted to be alone.
His head was buzzing, his nose still hurt; he felt dizzy and nauseous and out of breath and hot and too many emotions for him to process all at once.
But after a while, he pushed open the door and shame-facedly walked back out, not knowing what to do with himself anymore. Find one of his friends and try to chat away the rest of the night, grab another drink and try to forget what happened, or maybe he should just leave now while he could. Though he eventually chose to just head back to the room where he'd left Levi and Jenelle, the thought of talking to them again hurt his stomach. He couldn't handle another lie right now.
He was right all along. He didn't fit in at parties.
Lemon couldn’t even begin to figure out how long her and Max had been arguing back and forth through their phones but eventually he had stopped responding even though he was right next to her. So, his reaction to her smacking him wasn’t shocking because he hadn’t read the message. It didn’t take long before Lemon saw the blood drip from his nose, had she hit him that hard? She hadn’t even felt any pain from smacking him but it only took him a few seconds and he was gone. He hadn’t even made a notion to her that he was leaving or if he was returning back so she sat on the back steps and waited. She kept waiting…and waiting…and waiting some more but still no Max. The bottle and glasses still sitting next to her. Her small hands grabbed the bottle and the glasses as she made a motion to get up. Everything and everyone were spinning. Lemon stood for a few seconds before she took a few steps and honestly it was difficult to even walk. She found a table? A counter? A surface to place the bottle and glasses before she made her way back to the steps. Still no Max. She felt even more hurt because she had pushed another person away.
After staying there probably longer than she needed Lemon struggled her way to the front of the house and out the door. All she had to do was figure out how to get home but nothing was staying still. Her emotions were running high as she tried to keep herself from crying. She had to see to get home. She took a few steps in the direction of where she thought home was but nothing looked right. She tried going in another direction and still nothing looked right. Eventually she decided to go straight. Her feet were tired in her shoes, she was tired and dizzy and eventually she was done. Done trying, done walking, done with it all and she lay down in the road.
She didn’t even care how hard it was, she had no will to try and figure out where to go, and right now she hated being drunk. The world was too confusing this way and she just needed her bed and her cat. Max had abandoned her just like so many others and what hurt more is that Max was supposed to be her best friend and he left her. So, she closed her eyes and didn’t care what happened at this point. She had lost her best friend all because she felt bad about her past. It hurt her and yet he couldn’t grasp that. Lemon let a few tears trickle out before she pushed more feelings down. She was more alone now than she had ever been and she couldn’t even get home.
Love was unhealing. Bottoms up, he had hoped against hope that the drinks would’ve gone to his head, filling him empty-full like an overflowed tub with an uninterrupted tap. If it had, he wouldn’t be here at heartbreak hotel, in front of room 626. Time would tell that Yohan Cho never actually made it there; he was a copy much like the second copy of the keycard fidgeting in his flat hands. Sliding the card, the door swept inwards. Then the polished hinges silently fell short, and the door locked.
Off-guard, he had just finished removing his shoes and folding his brown trench coat across the armchair when his fresh pair of eyes, a boreal taiga, seasonally affected with the faint tinctures of red circling his underlids fell upon the setting- fire-on- rain: Carson Hughes. Without a hint of shame, the real queen of hearts layed on the king sized bed unravelled, her smooth legs crossed atop the wild tonics of cotton covers. Her clothes were what someone would call a royal flush of scandalous; it acompassed her peerless figure, channeling out her curves.
Usually, Yohan Cho would’ve turned around quickly, but his eyes had already slipped up on him and rather than consuming any more alcohol, he was drinking in the sight of her. Carson Hughes, as it may be, could make the hardest of heads turn. Her brown hair curtained her face as her rushlight-raspberry lips were slightly smiling. The veil of being entranced was lifted, and his palm masked over his eyes.
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking-” he instinctively said, turning around though heat rushed to his face.
Wasn’t he supposed to? Wasn’t that part of hook ups? They were supposed to kiss, undress, and-
“There must’ve been something irritating my eyes,” he made a response again, and this time he remained facing her.
“Do I intimidate you?” He heard her ask, to which his mouth simply renounced, “No, that’s not it. It's just been a while.”
He moved to the bed, before dipping in beside her.
“I’ve kissed so many people,” he told her like it was his religion, “So-”
His numb white hands easily grabbed her by the edges of her jaw, but his body was crawling within when he got close to her lips.
“Many,” the reiteration rolls on his tongue more softly, though there’s a hitch in his voice. He didn’t know what to do next. His lips circumvented above hers like playing victim on the victimless. She decides for herself which one she wants to be, because the next couple seconds he falls into her like an angel with clipped wings as her arms pull him by the neck closer to her Hades’ everglade eyes, kissing him till the rest came much more naturally.
I’m sorry Danielle Henderson. I was tired of waiting. And that excuse, makes another excuse for…
Who I am.
A fantasy of what everyone likes.
... not a soul at all.
there are so many beautiful reasons to be happy....
Astraea had practically skidded into the passenger seat of Artie’s car. Like usual, this girl was running insanely late, and Artemis, well he was rather thankful for his roommate’s predictability in running late. Though she was sure that he would have much rather preferred if Astraea was forgetful, rather than chaotically late.
She reached up, flipping down the visor in Artie’s car, just to throw on the final touch of her ruby red lipstick. Carson of course had helped her pick that out, otherwise she wouldn’t have ever picked anything so bold.
Astraea had vaguely noticed that Artemis, may have possibly, seemed slightly more quiet than he usually would be. But she wasn’t really sure how to put her finger on it. Maybe work was more stressful than usual... She wasn’t sure how it could be in a bookstore. But maybe there was some crazy sort of drama there going on with his friends…. Co-workers.
“Artie!” She yelled out the propped open car door. “Hurry up!!” She smirked as she swung her foot in as she closed the door. Artemis was slowly making his way down the front of their stairs to his parking spot. He almost seemed to be sulking, but Astraea was too distracted by the fact this would be the first fourth of July that she would be able to legally drink at. “Carson’s waitingggggggg.” She whined as Artie sat in the car beside her.
As he pulled out of the driveway, when he sat beside her the air felt thick. She wanted to ask him a question, what was wrong, had she done something, what the drama at the bookstore was. But, she knew that it was one of those moments that she should probably stay quite while they went to get Carson.
She was better at handling Artie when he was in a mood, while Astraea, she usually just made it worse. Carson said it was because Astraea could be what some might consider ‘a lot.’ Though she never really described what that actually meant.
It was a rather quiet drive as they pulled up to Carson’s house, Astraea could barely contain her excitement as she squeaked out. “I’llgogetCarson!!” Quickly opening the car door, she jumped out of the passenger seat, running up to Carson’s front door. She never even bothered to close the car door behind her.
She knocked rapidly as she anxiously awaited Carson or Mildred to answer.
When it came to dates, Chance rarely got nervous. He remembered his first date and how he was freaking out about it, yet he's grown from it; however, today, he was slightly nervous about this one with Mariah (and technically it wasn't their first date). He couldn't deny that the older girl was very pretty and that he was attracted to her, but as he said before, he had conflicting feelings about who he thought he was and who he could actually be. Was he being deceitful going on this date with Mariah?
No, he couldn't be. Frankie was not interested in him and it wasn't wrong for him to try and move on from pining for his best friend. This date with Mariah was a good thing and he was allowed to be excited for it.
His aunt had helped him put together an outfit, giving him some advice to make sure the date went okay. Winnie had even said a few words of encouragement as she was getting herself ready for the party at the Moore's. Chance was glad that he was missing the beginning of the party, he really didn't have anyone to hang out with besides Mariah. He wasn't talking to his sister, Reid and Isa were throwing tantrums so they all weren't hanging out, Beck and him weren't even close, Zach was doing god knows what, Frankie has been busy with Claire, and so on. All the people that he considered part of his close friends group was staving off some catastrophe or drinking and drunk tweeting like Max and Lemon.
Yeah, he'd just deal with the party later.
Chance had decided to drag Mariah along for a simple walk in the park, stopping at the small ice cream shop that sat in the middle of the landmark. The two teenagers had both decided to just meet at the park as a way to avoid Professor Richard Bailey. When it came to parents and the girls he has dated, Chance always was able to get him on his side (except for one), however Mariah was adamant that the two of them meet at the park and avoid running into her dad altogether.
He leaves his house early, making it to the park about 30 minutes before they had scheduled to meet, but when he arrived she was there too. He looked at Mariah, admiring the curls that coiled and framed around her face, the way she looked nervous, her foot tapping against the concrete of the sidewalk and her eyes darting around as if she were looking for Chance. He leaves his car and makes his way to her, his feet quickening as he got closer. Chance places his hand lightly on her lower back, trying not to scare her, and turns her so that she was facing his body. Hey. Chance softly says, a sweet grin on his face as he looked into Mariah's eyes. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I hope you weren't waiting long.
The smile on his face grows a little wider the longer he looks at Mariah. Mariah was a good person and he deserved to have a good thing with a good person that actually showed interest in him. I hope you like this plan, I've been trying to come up with a plan since we played soccer at the camp. We can always do something different if you wanted, I just want us to have a good time.
Temporary fleeting thrills keep me bruised and make me ill
Boots clicked on the pavement in time with Barracuda by Heart blaring from headphones draped around the nape of a neck. A hip flask was pulled from the pocket of the black leather jacket with one hand and a lighter pulled from the opposite pocket. After a swig of the fire liquid was downed and the flask returned, a cigarette was pulled from the back pocket of weathered, dark jeans and brought to hang loosely from smirking lips. In one swift motion, practiced hands flicked open the zippo lighter and lit the cigarette. An m80 firecracker was pulled from the the chest pocket of the jacket. Dark strands of hair were tucked behind ears for safety and the small explosive brought close to the face of a five foot ten inches tall young woman. Cupped hands protected against any breeze brought from the nearby ocean as she attempted to light the red cylinder with her cigarette.
The instant sparks flashed in the girl's face, light reflecting off her brown eyes, a silent countdown began. One....two...three... as the fuse burned down closer and closer to the explosive the devilish smile grew wider and wider. At the last possible second she tossed the cylinder skyward as hard as she could. Just as the object's trajectory arced back towards the earth it went off with a cacophonous blast, causing a ringing in her ears and a distant car alarm to go off. Her head rolled back in laughter, cigarette threatening to fall from her lips, smoke billowing all around her.
As Elizabeth Bishop's hearing slowly returned to her she checked her phone to remind herself of the address she was going to. She didn't come all the way from Chicago to Anchor Bay just to sit around in the dumpy motel in which her and her mother were currently residing. She caught a glimpse of her reflection on her phone screen and frowned. The bruising on the left side of her face had still yet to dissipate and it was now a mix of yellows, browns, and greens. The sunglasses she was wearing was covering up some of it but the bruise was spread from her temple to her cheekbone, to her chin, essentially covering half of her face; it was difficult to hide.
Liz didn't need her phone's directions for long as it was easy to discern which houses were hosting a party, especially one of the magnitude this one was supposed to be. Perhaps Liz was just good at tracking down parties, either way she was confident she was now standing in front of the house she should be. The mostly finished cigarette fell to the sidewalk and was crushed under her boot. Everyone she wanted or needed to see was likely in there bringing a surge of mixed emotions up into the young girl's chest.
Isa; the person Liz was closest to in the entire world, other than her mother. The girl she would do anything to protect, and who as of late was not speaking to Liz. This was very concerning to the older girl and she worried for her friend deeply. But she knew her very well. It was entirely unlikely that Isa would miss out on a party like this.
Carson; the woman Liz had had a crush, and dare it be said, perhaps even deep feelings for for as long as she could remember. The only woman to ever make Liz feel weak in the knees and anxious in her stomach. The one who completely defused Liz's harsh exterior and bitch mask that she hid behind. The one who unknowingly, but no less cruelly, tortured Liz by flirting with everyone.
Jayce; the one Liz was dreading to see. She had made the mistake of texting him while drunk and agreed to meet with him and talk tonight, and Liz always kept her word. Whether she'd like it or not, and she really, really, didn't, she'd talk with him tonight. Assuming he was even there.
Max; Liz's new ward. It seemed to Liz that the 'Wolf' had become a bit of a 'Bear' herself, and while she may not even realize it, somewhere deep down Liz was proud. Isa was watching out for Max much in the way Liz did for her, this meant that Liz was now responsible for Max by association. He was a good kid as far as she could tell, but could definitely use some confidence....and someone more experienced at drinking to help him through his first time. If Liz was really lucky he would also be where she would find Isa.
Winnie; the sweet one that agreed to help Liz. Liz thought this girl was absolutely gorgeous and incredibly sweet. When casually flirting with people the Bishop girl never expected to receive compliments back. Usually she was the dominant and forward one that provide sweet words and made the first move. Typically she didn't get many moves back and so she was taken aback when Winnie responded almost in kind. Granted Liz took Winnie's words as niceties whereas her own were leaning on the side of flirting, but it was still an unexpected experience. Winnie also agreed to help...mask the bruise that took up much of Liz's face. She'd have to remember to properly thank her for that.
The flask returned to the light of day in an attempt to drown the emotions in tequila. With a deep breath to calm herself and bring back her air of apathy she strode confidently into the house like she was supposed to be there. That was the key with going to parties, or even places in general, that you technically weren't invited to; confidence. If you act like you belong, you will.
Weaving between partygoers was something Liz was fully accustomed to, that combined with the wide berth people often gave her mad it quite simple navigating around. Mostly she was just moving about getting a sense for the types of people there, in addition to searching for any one of the people she needed to find.
A curious sight caught Liz's brown gaze; a person sitting on a couch in the most opposite way possible. They were upside down and hanging off the side, dark hair draping all around them. A small smirk rose to Liz's face and she approached stopping just short of the person and resting her hands on her hips.
Ivy; the one she only had positive emotions about seeing. The little gremlin enjoyed causing chaos on twitter and Liz adored it. She seemed to only care about having fun and drinking the tears of her victims and truth be told...Liz saw some of herself in the kid. The two had DMed about setting off some fireworks together, and while Liz didn't think the younger girl could really be trusted with fireworks, what was the worst that could happen if she kept a close eye on her?
"How's the view from there?" Liz asked with her scarred eyebrow arched. Another sip from her hip flask was taken before she continued speaking. "I heard through the grapevine that you might be a fan of explosions..." her smirk turned mischievous. "If only someone was super cool and had fireworks, right?"
TL;DR Ivy and Liz about to go have fun committing some Independence Day misdemeanors.
Don't threaten me with a good time.
The first hour or so of the party had ended with Ivy hanging like a lethargic lemur off the side of the couch, letting her dizzy eyes unfocus and turn the room into a whirl of color and sound.
Ivy liked being drunk, actually. It made reality a little faster, a little funnier, a little easier.
She could just lie back and take it all in for now, and join the fun when she felt the inspiration.
Her karaoke plans with Lemon Pierce fell through when the tipsy blonde absconded with the weird deaf twitter-activist kid. Apparently they both trashed themselves really quickly and ended up having some sort of disagreement. Ivy was curious to pry for details, but Lemon seemed genuinely upset at the moment, and in the interest of keeping a new friend, Ivy chose to let the topic rest until it had cooled a bit. How considerate of her.
Ivy was so, so nice, wasn't she? A great, generous friend. She even gifted Lemon one or two of her little bottles of assorted liquor. Ivy also offered a mystery pill that Lemon declined, but still, she felt like a real pure soul tonight.
She'd almost drifted off into an early nap when she was brought back to full alert by the sound of hard-soled boots tapping across the smooth hardwood floor, stopping only a few feet away. Ivy wasn't expecting visitors at this hour. But Ivy was a little bored with the crowd by now, and couldn't bother herself to lift her head until she smelled faint cigarette smoke... and soot.
Hey, maybe this was someone more interesting than some schlub asking for her to take up less space on the sofa.
One glance up, and her eyes met a mischievous-looking young woman with an appearance that Ivy's former family would have surely found scandalous. Slit eyebrows, a nose ring that shined as it caught the light in the room, and a leather-clad outfit that wouldn't have been out of place in a spy movie.
The kind of person Ivy would want to look like when she was a little bit taller. She no longer had anyone she was worried would disapprove, after all.
She spoke, and Ivy had to slide out of her upside-down position and let the blood come down from her face in order to hear her.
"I heard through the grapevine that you might be a fan of explosions..."
The short 2-second pause made impatient Ivy feel as though she'd die of old age. Of course she liked explosions. Didn't everyone? Well, obviously not, but a drunk teenage girl at a Fourth of July party? A safe bet.
"If only someone was super cool and had fireworks, right?"
Fireworks. Of course.
Ivy suddenly had an epiphany and remembered who it was she'd been chatting about fireworks with
Liz from Twitter. Lizard. The Twitter Lizard, Ivy's dealer's weird mysterious best friend... live and in the flesh.
Never a more welcome sight in all of Parish Point. Ivy jumped up as if she'd been approached by her celebrity hero. "Yo!!" She shrieked, beaming with glee, before looking around to see that she'd turned a few heads and lowering her volume to just a pitch above the music. "Yooooooo."
"Lizz!! I can't believe you actshually followed through on that. And like-- you knew it was me right away? Wow. Wowww. I'm like... wow. Like noticeable. But anyway!!! Fireworkss! Carrying on centuries of tradischions..." Her slurring voice was dripping with anticipation, speaking much faster than her mouth was ready to accommodate. Ivy cackled and ecstatically threw her arms around Liz, as though they were long-separated lovers. When they pulled away, Ivy wobbled a bit before regaining her balance and putting on her most sober stance, which was a still very drunk-looking wide-angled hip tilt, arms folded but shoulders squared for balance. "Shall we take this ousside?" She lisped in a low, smirking tone, as if challenging Liz to a parking lot duel, though the flashing grin on her face looked more like an 8-year-old girl with a new puppy. "I mean, unless you wanted to keep it inside, in whisch case, I'm not gonna argue with that..." Arson had always been an aspirational goal of Ivy's. There was something very therapeutic, she thought, of watching the burning destruction of something so large and essential. Alas, she had many a friend and acquaintance out there to quash those dreams at any opportunity that should arise. But a girl could still hope.
Even if it was resigned to the safety of the outside, this was the kind of party shenanigans that Ivy lived from day-to-day for.
You keep finding new ways to make yourself reappear
I hope you never leave me be
So Dustin was a little bit tipsy. Arriving at the party early before anyone he knew, what else was there to do but grab a drink or two? After the street fair debacle, he was wise enough to make sure to pace himself this time though, in order to remain pleasantly lubricated instead of full-on trashed within the first ten minutes of his arrival.
When he'd heard from Winnie that she was on her way, Dustin ambled through the yard and into the house to catch her when she arrived. He was pleasantly suprised to find his girlfriend already standing in the main entrance room, looking uncharacteristically nervous, yet beautiful as always.
Bounding up to her like an excited puppy, Dustin grabbed Winnie up in a huge hug, lifting her off the ground slightly to spin her around and cover her face in kisses. "Nono!! You're heeere!" Placing her gently back down, he kept his arms around her until his curiosity got the better of him, and he had to take a step back to get a better look at her body in that sleek, form-fitting dress she had on. "Jeeeeez, you look amazing!!" The boy's dark eyes were wide, blinking in amazement.
After ogling her for way too long, Dustin awkwardly cleared his throat, running a hand through his sandy curls. "So, uh...I have no idea where anyone is. I've just been walking around, chatting with randos," He shrugged. This was technically all true--he'd been doing just that, popping in and out if conversations with people he barely knew from school, even amusing some adults as the weird talkative kid that just dropped into their friend circle to offer his two cents, chat for a moment, then wander off.
However, Dustin was definitely glossing over the fact that he'd just politely escaped the sexual harassment of Claire Malkovich, who saw him as an inferior but doable substitute for a withholding Zach while she was bored and hoping Frankie would show up to the party. While it wasn't exactly an unwanted advance, Dustin would rather hold onto his amazing girlfriend than be Claire's plaything for five minutes, so it wasn't too difficult to quickly extricate himself from her clutches.
"Sooo, whatcha wanna do, babe? Wander around aimlessly? That was my plan." Dustin took a quick glance at the folks milling around them, as if Ashley or anyone else they knew would suddenly pop up out of nowhere. He paused for a second to wonder where his best friend could be. He hadn't seen her at all yet, and she was just giving Dustin shit about hanging out at the party together. Plus there was always copious amounts of booze at this thing, so it would be kind of surprising if Ashley didn't make an appearance. Then again, wouldn't it be just like her to not even show up after implying he'd be the one to ditch.
Giving up on his search, Dustin let his gaze fall back on his girlfriend. He once again looked Winnie over, her alluring figure perfectly gift-wrapped in that slinky white dress. Her in that dress--she was quickly making him lose all motivation to socialize at this party, or even be there at all.
Dustin grinned and reached an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling Nona close and laying a long, amorous kiss on her glossy lips. He pressed himself against the girl with a bit of force; gently, but with enough aggression to push her up against the nearby wall and pin her there. "Or we could...dip out early," He growled softly in her ear, just loud enough for Winnie to hear over the din of the party. "My parents are out of town.."
TL;DR Romir is both obnoxious and annoying while he picks up Oliver for their trip
look at this idiotic fool that you've made me
Some people said that Rome wasn't very good at taking social cues, or that he didn't have any common sense. Rome disagreed with these statements - however true they were.
He'd organised with Oliver, who was also now his boyfriend-but-not-really, that they'd go 'firefly hunting'. Rome just wanted to see them with Oliver, not catch any, and he was sure that Oliver didn't want to get particularly close to the insects either. Rome hadn't actually texted Oliver since they'd made plans - not to organise where they'd meet, or what time, or anything like that. Rome was... he knew what he thought, and he often didn't bother to wonder about what other people were thinking, or to inform them of his thoughts.
So he'd asked around in search of Oliver's address, or at the very least, information about where he lived. Rome, while incredibly odd, was also prone to impressive feats. So, somehow, he'd worked out what apartment building Oliver lived in, as well as which apartment. Of course, he hadn't told Oliver any of this. Instead, he just showed up at Oliver's apartment on the night of the 4th of July, and send him a text from outside the front door to alert his fake boyfriend of his presence. It was a miracle he decided against ringing the doorbell.
TL;DR Romir somehow sleuthed out Oliver's address and that is fucking terrifying and raises several questions. Nevertheless, firefly hunting.
How lonely it is, to be drowning in a place where everyone can swim
117 Bridge Street was a 3-story brick building that was most likely part of a coal factory at one point in its history, given the lingering soot that coated over the whole neighborhood, filling every crack and crevice with pitch-black dust. Decades after the last coal manufacturer in Anchor Bay shut down, the soot remained.
The whole industrial district of Anchor Bay was a stark contrast to the rest of the charming seaside town. It was nestled into farthest point inland before the western border into the next town. It was clearly not the most affluent of neighborhoods, but in certain parts it appeared to be almost cartoonishly sketchy. Looming metal scaffolding on buildings that were no longer under construction, chipped old cobblestones that likely hadn't been replaced since 1920, and an atmosphere that seemed to leech the serotonin from the brains of all who stayed too long.
This particular building on Bridge Street wasn't the worst on its block, in the grand scheme of things. Most of the windows were intact, and usually the utilities worked at least semi-functionally. The water was probably drinkable, at least. Hot water wasn't a guarantee, but it was livable enough for most of its residents.
Apartment #6 on the third floor was an odd little place, so to speak. While the interior was cramped and claustrophobic, it was also meticulously clean and painstakingly organized. Every surface was carefully dusted, things tucked away into drawers and cabinets with almost eerie precision of placement. It smelled faintly of stagnant water and charcoal, but that just came with the building and there was little to be done about it. Curtains on the windows, a clean blue carpet, and tasteful second-hand furniture gave the place just a little bit of class despite the limitations of poverty.
Though the apartment was clearly too small for a family of five, it suited the needs just fine. The oldest daughter was away at community college for the most part, so only four lived in the apartment for most of the year.
And since Oliver was confined to a mattress on the floor of an empty walk-in closet, it was space enough for just the mother and the two younger daughters.
Oliver spent his weekends in dead silence, leaving his closet only when absolutely needed, walking on eggshells so as not to do anything that could possibly be construed as a disturbance. On a holiday evening such as this, especially falling on a Saturday, the whole family was home, his mother included.
Shockingly, she was sober, or at least appeared to be, sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table with some sort of sewing project in her hands.
This was better than the alternative, but by no means perfect. Sober Eileen was much more... alert, and usually in a delicate temper.
Oliver still took great pains to be careful.
He had to carefully plan out how he was leaving the house today. He wasn't allowed to leave except to go to school, but he usually found a way out by simply not coming home after school: hiding out in the library, or wandering around town so as not to be predictable. If people knew he was always at the library, they'd likely start tipping off his mother that he was there. She wasn't well-known within the community, but those who did know her thought well of her. She seemed, on the outside, like a kind but beleaguered working-class single mother with four children, one with a developmental disability... a very sympathetic-seeming circumstance without the context.
If she weren't so precise in preening her reputation, Oliver would have been taken from her custody a long, long time ago.
Oliver, still tucked away in his closet room trying to strategize a quick escape, missed Rome's texts by a minute or so, having gotten no notification. At home, he kept his phone on silent with the brightness all the way down.
He and Romir, in the interest of finding something quieter to do than the party, had decided to go watch fireflies together. And as much as insects made Oliver's skin crawl, he couldn't pass up time to spend with his fake boyfriend (which was a joke: Oliver, who was desperate to know more about both jokes and relationships, was thrilled by this strange little ruse they'd devised.)
But Romir found his address.
He was outside the door. Right now.
He asked around, but who did he ask?
Moreover, who knew where Oliver lived!?
Not even Lemon knew where Oliver lived. Not even Jacob.
...He wasn't expecting that.
Oliver didn't do well with the unexpected.
He stopped begging and pleading with Romir to not ring the doorbell and wait at the bottom of the staircase when he realized he was hyperventilating and starting to whisper nonsense syllables under his breath, clawing his hand up and down the side of his face... bad idea. Being visibly distressed in this house was a sure way to end up in a bad situation.
Knowing he was no longer in a state to be seen outside of his room, he carefully eyed through the slats on the closet door and waited for a split-second chance to escape the house. As soon as he saw his mother turn around and step into another room to say something to one of his sisters, Oliver slipped out of the closet and the through the front door quickly but silently, one hand gingerly closing the entrance without touching the knob. Without any sort of greeting, he strode past the taller Romir all the way to the end of the hallway before turning back and waving him over. Oliver needed Rome away from his apartment and fast. They'd talk once they were both at a safe distance.
Even from the distance, Oliver looked shaken. Eyes frozen wide, faint red stripes over his pale cheek from scratching at himself, standing with one foot back as if ready to make a run for it. He reached out a hand and gestured again for Romir to follow him, praying his new friend wouldn't make the grave mistake of talking within earshot of the door.
Oliver wasn't ready to have this happen. He really didn't think it ever would...
Later, when he wasn't in such a panic, he'd probably be impressed that Romir had sleuthed him out. That was the kind of calculated, brilliant detective work that Oliver deeply admired.
Even when it put him in danger.
TL;DR Artemis is pretending he doesn’t have feelings for Hassim
i don't wanna be myself, it's making me so unwell
Partying was certainly not Artemis’ activity of choice.
Artemis was only going because he was sure that Astraea and Carson were going to get wasted, and they’d need a designated driver. Artemis didn’t trust anybody but himself, so of course, he took it upon himself to be their designated driver. Even if he couldn’t generally be trusted around alcohol, he knew that he could if he knew that other people’s safety depended on it.
Then, of course, he’d found out that Hassim was going to the party. Artemis was… in a really difficult position with Hassim. He liked Hassim, but he probably liked him a little too much. He was so embarrassed about the kiss, but he was even more embarrassed that Hassim had seen him so drunk and pathetic.
He sat in the car, texting Hassim, once they’d reached Carson’s place. Mostly they just texted about that night - Hassim assuring Artemis that he wasn’t upset about the kiss, and that he’d kissed Artemis back for a reason. But Artemis didn’t want to get his own hopes up, so he refused to let himself actually feel anything for Hassim… which was why he was very deliberately ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.
It's like Dustin had a sixth sense or something. Sure, Winona had texted him that she had arrived and was waiting up front, but he appeared just in time, if she stood two seconds more by herself, she might have left. Parties were not her thing anymore.
Her goofy boyfriend was very affectionate, wrapping her arms around him and planting kisses wherever he could. She could smell faint alcohol on his lips, it didn't bother her, she was just glad that he didn't go as overboard as he did last time. She smiles at his enthusiasm, shocked at how enamored Dustin could be when it came to her. The coolness of the wall seeped through the thin fabric of her dress as he pressed her into it, the move causing for butterflies to erupt in her stomach.
At his proposal of ditching the party, she smiles, a small chuckle escaping her. She then places a lingering kiss on his lips, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold him a little closer. Now as much as I would love to ditch this party to hang out with you instead. A chaste kiss is placed on Dustin's lips and her fingers play with the curls at his neck. We have to see our friends, we can't always hang out with each other Dusty.
Winnie had noticed how much she had spent with Dustin, Faith even complained about it and those two never saw each other. She had made plans that Dustin and her would hang out with their friends and have a good time all together. And she liked Ashley and Ivy, despite the two year age gap, they were new and refreshing personalities (not that she didn't love her friends now). And as mentioned before, Winnie didn't want to be that one girlfriend that always stole her boyfriend away from his friends or that didn't get along with his friends. Winnie could be friends with Ashley and Ivy too. It'll be fun, and maybe after we can spend some time together. Winona places one more kiss on her boyfriend's lips before looking over his shoulder. Oh look, there's Ashley now.
Isa didn't mean to disappear for this long. At first, it was just a break. She turned off her Twitter, and just cut herself off from the town she came from. During the trip to Canada, she tried her best to let go and have fun. She tried to ignore her ever-growing feelings for Liz. she tried to ignore the trust that was broken with Max, and she just tried to forget about it all. And for a while she did, she had fun with Lemon and Auntie. It was on the plane ride home, that it became apparent that she couldn't escape her thoughts for long. The moment she got off that plane, she went into her room and never came out. Auntie of course knew where she was as she now lived with Auntie and Uncle No. Uncle No had designed her room while they were away and it was amazing. She loved it, and it made her feel like they really wanted her there with them. Like she really belonged. Chance and Winnie both knew where she was. The only people who didn't were Max, and Liz. She just wanted to hide for a day or two but it became so much longer.
Now she was in front of the house that everyone that she has been avoiding is in. Isa had been debating on whether she wanted to show up but when she saw that Liz had said that she was going to the party. Isa hasn't seen her closest friend, her person, and the only person that ever really understood her like...with her past and everything in a couple of years and she couldn't help herself from getting a glimpse of her. Even though she wasn't gonna talk to her or even interact with her. She was just gonna get a glance of her. That was all she needed. Isa was still mad at her...well she was worried about her. She doesn't like when Liz drinks without letting her know, and she especially doesn't like it when it leads to her wanting to sleep with someone she doesn't know. Knowing that Liz will regret it in the morning. She hated it all so she was mad...no she was...she doesn't fucking know how she feels right now. She was just...a ball of unwanted angry feelings towards Liz right now.
She walks in and groans at the number of drunk people around her. She goes to hide and to find a beer. Something to keep her occupied during her wait.
When Reid got the message from Lemon's mom about the instagram, he was more than confused. Lemon had spent so much time pushing him away, ever since she got the news that him and his mother were moving to Anchor Bay. Why would she post something now, something that actually showed them as friends. Like she cared even the slightest bit.
He had spent the night already worried as it was, Lemon had gotten herself into a situation where he could see so much going wrong. From her constant texts and twitter messages, Reid could see that she was far past tipsy. After at least seven shots, he wasn't too surprised either.
--Just, more worried.
Reid didn't want to disturb Lemon's fun. He also had no real want to be apart of it either. Sure Reid could party, when he wanted to. But in the past year... Well, he wasn't so into that scene so much anymore.
He sat in his parked car as he read through and responded to more and more drunk Lemon texts. His head in his hands, as her texts just became more and more unreadable. And then, he got the news that Max had gone and left her, and she had hit him. Why? What had happened between them, had he done something? Reid wasn't sure which way to run, towards Lemon. Or towards Max. .....
He stepped out of his car and started towards the house, someone else could deal with Max. Right now he knew he had to find Lemon, wherever she could be. He likely looked like a crazy person as looked frantically around the living room. The little blonde girl was nowhere to be found, and neither was her friend who acted like he was so responsible. Reid pulled his phone out from his pocket and started to text Lemon, refusing the temptation to hit himself in the head a few times. Or against a wall.
Finally, he got an answer from Lemon, after deciphering her text messages to find out she was by the road? Wherever that could be. He hated running, but here he was, booking it out of the house to find Lemon before she took forgot she was supposed to wait for him wherever she was. Reid continued further down the road, in the opposite direction of his car. Figuring Lemon must of been further down the road, otherwise he would of seen her.
Looking back and forth as he traveled down what he could only assume that would be a rather quiet street if it wasn't for the holiday.
There was only a few minutes before he saw Lemon, or rather, almost stepped on her. "Lemon, what are you doing laying in the road? You're going to get hit by a car or something." Reid leaned down taking Lemon's hands in his, trying to lift her off the ground. Only to be received with dead wait and lots of whining. "Lemon, come on. You can't just stay there on the ground." Reid wrapped his arms around her waist, once again just being received with refusal to move. "Lemon." Reid sighed as he stood back up. "I thought you wanted to go home?" He ran a hand through his hair, the small blonde was shockingly stubborn. More so than he was used to.
Reid sat down on the ground legs crossed, resting his elbows on his knees. Trying to get down to Lemon's level. "What's wrong now?" His bright blue eyes were wide, he was annoyed by the wild goose chase. But he would do it all over again if he had to.
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TL;DR Sed fermentum tortor nulla, vel sodales nibh bibendum eu. Maecenas a lacus a libero blandit commodo. In lobortis aliquam urna, id tempor ex semper at
This air is blessed, you share with me
Mariah was shaking like a wet chihuahua. Sure, she'd been on dates with Chance before, but every damn time, she turned into a nervous wreck beforehand. Normally she was able to turn on some weird flirty autopilot when it was game time, but still. Chance was a genuinely good, fun guy, who she'd barely wrapped her head around him possibly showing an interest in her. She always felt as if she'd slip or if a hammer would drop, revealing she was a complete and total fraud.
She had to stop thinking that way. She knew she'd never recover from thinking all the people she fell for, were doomed to never want her back. But maybe Chance was different. If nothing else, he found her hot.
She'd spent a significant portion of time searching for something to wear. It had to be something enough to keep Chance interested, but easy enough to conceal from her father. She'd even rummaged through her sister's wardrobe, hoping that there'd be something she'd left behind when moving to college. Eventually she'd gone the basic route of flannel and jeans. The main difference being a lacy crop top underneath that she'd just show off, as soon as she didn't need the jacket to hide her outfit.
She didn't feel like arguing about whether outfits and sexual activity were connected via correlation or causation or whatever.
Mariah had asked(begged) that they meet in the park away from their house. Though confident she could adequately lie to her dad about the nature of her relationship with Chance, she wanted to keep him off her dad's radar as much as possible. She couldn't imagine the horror he'd feel realizing his daughter was going on dates. Through her mom when she was young, she realized that he himself had dated in high school, even marrying his sweetheart, but she didn't dare press the subject or his hypocrisy.
After a full 30 minutes of waiting, due to her insane punctuality, a similarly early sound of Chance's car reached her ears. A smile slowly spread on her face, and her posture softened. Who knew he'd wanna show up early too? Letting out a tiny squeak of surprise, as he turned her around, it quickly dissipated into soft laughter. "Hey". Mariah grinned, her heartbeat steadying after the surprise. ''No, it's fine. I only showed up a couple minutes ago.''
She softened slightly as she noticed the way he smiled at her. People couldn't fake an expression like that, could they? Someway, somehow, Mariah Bailey had gotten a date with someone who was at least somewhat into her. "Oh no, I like the plan! Anyway it's less tiring, and humiliating than you kicking my ass in soccer.'' She assured him playfully, patting his shoulder as she did so.
when you are kind to others, it not only changes you, but the world.
Jacob felt rather nervous, shoving his hands into his pockets as he bounced on the front of his feet. Him and Tabitha had been friends, since his freshman year. Which… Well, it hadn’t been very long. She was going into her senior year and Jacob.. He would just be a sophomore. What kind of senior really wanted to hang out with a soon to be sophomore… How had Tabitha even agreed to go to this party with him…
Tabitha would just want to be friends… Right, right.
She was just so pretty… Jacob was more than likely to just make a complete and total fool of himself. What was he kidding, last time he was with her he fell flat on his ass taking her picture. Why did he even do that.
Why was he over thinking every little thing.
Jacob watched a few drunk kids stumble across in front of him. They were all laughing and smiling, they didn’t seem so nervous. They seemed happy, maybe he should have a drink… He had never drank before…. And drinking… it made Oliver nervous, how would he be able to look Oliver in the eye if he did that.
Though he wasn’t even sure what to do, while he waited for his friend. Waited for his friend that was a girl, a girl named Tabitha, a very pretty girl named Tabitha…
Let us be young, let us be wild
until the summer's over
Hi, Max...bye, Max.
Jenelle tried not to let the annoyance show on her face. Lemon, liquor bottle in hand, had immediately whisked her crush away as soon as he arrived at the party. She tried to chase away her jealous thoughts, as Lemon swore they weren't actually dating despite the rumors--not to mention the way Max doted on the blonde, like when she got seasick the day of the street fair and wouldn't leave her side. But Lemon was his best friend. Jenelle reckoned he would probably rather hang with his bestie over anyone else here anyway.
Either way, Jenelle had already decided she was going to drink tonight, for the first time and in earnest. What better time to start than right now, when there were unpleasant feelings to drown out in booze? "Come on, Levi," She tossed a glance at the boy beside her, gently tugging his arm in the hopes that he'd follow. "Let's find something to drink."
Fortunately, alcohol wasn't difficult to come by at this party. They quickly came across a nearby table with tons of different bottles littering it, and Jenelle snagged one to swish around the brown liquid within. "Hmm, I dunno, I've never done this before," She admitted with a sheepish smile, carefully replacing the bottle where she found it. "Whatcha think?" Happy to let Levi choose, she merely tossed back whatever he gave her, wholly unprepared for how much it would burn on the way down. "Oh my gosh, ugh!" She choked, face contorted into a grimace as she laughed and winced at the burn and bitter, awful taste.
Three shots in, Jenny found herself glancing at Levi, mentally weighing the pros and cons of just throwing herself at him and hoping for the best. If she couldn't have the guy she wanted, or even a consolation boyfriend, maybe she could at least mess around with someone for a night, or even just get her first kiss out of the way. And Levi was certainly an appealing option for any of those; he was extremely cute after all, and one would be hard pressed to find anybody sweeter.
She was pulled from such thoughts when her phone chimed, however, suprised by a series of texts sent by none other than Max from somewhere in the house. Whatever Lemon had kidnapped him for, it hadn't gone well, or at least that's what Jenny could glean from Max's drunk babbling about being popped in the face and a bloody nose. This was all Jenny needed to hear, thrilled by the idea of a sad, dejected Max wandering the house in need of her rescue. "Looks like something happened with Max. Lemon hit him or something? I'm gonna go find him, be right baaack!" Jenny chirped, rushing off before Levi could ask any questions or even respond.
As soon as she began walking, a strange, fuzzy feeling came over her, like all her insides had turned to jelly, her balance suddenly knocked off kilter. Luckily, she didn't have to walk too far before spotting Max heading straight for her. Coppery curls bouncing, Jenny excitedly scampered forth and jumped into his arms to capture the boy in a hug, nearly knocking him over. "Heeey! I caught a Max!" She squealed, taking a step back to also sign it out for him. Her own words made Jenny collapse inexplicably into a laughing fit, once again falling forward into Max's arms and holding onto him while she giggled for what felt like forever.
A hush came over the two as Jenny composed herself, but she still made no effort to release him. Instead Jenny just gazed up at Max, and couldn't help but get lost in this rare, glorious moment of being in such close proximity to him. Her heart fluttered rapidly as she admired the boy's delicately handsome face up close, with his boyish, elven features and electric blue eyes.
Jenny had no earthly idea how long she'd been clinging onto Max, but she was positive it was far too long for a friendly hug he hadn't even asked for in the first place. Already flushed from the alcohol, her face was now awash with heat as she awkwardly untangled herself from him and took a step back. "Uh, anyway..." She mumbled, idly smoothing her pink, patterned skirt with her palms. "You're not still worrying about jerks on Twitter right now, are you?" She slurred aloud while besotted hands moved clumsily to sign the words as well, and spell out any she didn't know.
"Oh my gosh..." After all that time staring at his face, she only just noticed the red mark marring his fair skin. "Max, are you okay?? Oof, Lemon really got you..." Barely signing the whole sentiment before a hand shot up to nearly graze the blotch on Max's cheek. She caught herself just before making contact though, quickly pulling back and clasping her hand safely in the other to keep from pawing at the boy any more.
Max is drunk as fuck and Jenny is having a nice little talk with him. Hopefully this won't end in trauma.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
It wasn't hard to knock Max off his balance, even when he wasn't 5 shots worse for wear, but Jenny suddenly running over and jumping into his arms very nearly sent both of them tumbling to the floor. And as much as Max was drunk and overwhelmed and hurt, he was always happy to see Jenelle. She was just... bright, in every sense of the word. He had no idea how he'd come to be friends with someone like her. It often felt like they were polar opposites: she was always so put together, with her Instagram-worthy outfits and kind words and A+ English essays. Max, no matter where he went, always looked and felt out of place. Part of it was his clumsy, awkward, disorganized nature... but more than that, he couldn't even understand or communicate effectively with most people. All too often, he was left alone and unable to engage and participate in the things other teens got to do. Like sports, extracurriculars, dating, spontaneous social adventures, and of course parties like this...
And yet, despite all the odds, he had friends like Jenelle.
Max could never be grateful enough for that.
Jenny seemed to be a little less than sober herself now, giggly and signing along a little sloppily with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around Max long after she'd stopped talking. She seemed to linger on a long moment of soft eye contact, Max staring back and wondering if she was going to say something, but she didn't. She just looked back, with none of the confusion Max held... she'd gone all quiet and dreamy for a moment. She leaned in close enough for him to smell some soft floral scented conditioner in her hair, and the liquor on her breath.
Alcohol did strange things to people, thought Max, who was still under the delusion that he was only slightly inebriated.
Max was hopelessly wasted, and getting worse by the minute, but he let the moment last as long as Jenny felt the need. Awkward as he was, Max was always swayed by the physical contact he'd never have the forwardness to initiate himself. He'd never so much as reach for someone else's hand, but if they took his, he'd always hold back.
When she finally pulled away, Jenny seemed just as flustered and full of nerves as he always felt. She quickly jumped on the first thought she had for a topic of conversation, trying to sign along with her speech even as her fingers tripped over themselves trying to spell out unfamiliar words.
"You're not still worrying about jerks on Twitter right now, are you?"
"Worried?" Max acted out the word with an awkward laugh, brushing it aside. "Nooo. I wasn't worried. Just..." He circled his hand for a bit and quickly gave up on finishing the thought. Max had a bad habit of leaving his sentences unfinished, another thing that the alcohol seemed to highlight.
Max, still in a heady fog of intoxication, must have zoned out of something Jenelle had said, because he was pulled out of a trance by her hand sliding over the mark on his face, never quite touching. He flinched back without meaning to, his face turning apologetic as he brushed her hand away as gently as he could. "It's not that bad." His hand slurred over the words and made the short sentence difficult to make out, but his dismissive shrug and glance to the side had said enough. "Doesn't hurt." That wasn't too much of a lie; the lingering red mark didn't hurt half as much as the reminder that he'd left Lemon alone on the steps. Why? What, were you afraid she'd hit you again?
He should have gone back to her. He was supposed to watch over her. That was the whole reason why he agreed to go to this rotten party, why he agreed to drink... It was all for Lemon. He just wanted her to have a good time. She needed to get her mind off of things for a night, and Max just had to go and ruin that. Classic. Typical. You had one job.
The still-enigmatic and incomprehensively captivating Reid had let Max know over some curt Twitter messages that he was going to pick Lemon up and take her home, but that still left Max with the feeling that he'd failed her as a friend. He'd hit a level of incompetence so low that Reid, who Lemon had proclaimed was no longer her friend, had to step up and care for her after Max had left her unattended.
Desperate to steer his mind in another direction before he dipped into another drunken thought spiral, Max turned his feeble attention back to Jenny, though he had nothing to say. His mind was full of dizzying spots, his vision turning into a grainy off-focus picture. This was the worst day to have forgotten to eat anything for 18 hours straight. "...hey, how are you feeling?" He figured focusing on her would keep him from looking too deeply at his own deteriorating physical state. "Sorry. You look like you've been drinking a little. I mean everyone has, so I'm not like... you know, but if you wanted me to get you some water or something--" he didn't pause long enough to notice that less than half of his words were formed clearly enough for Jenny to catch.
To say last week was underwhelming to Carson would have been putting words lightly, being generous and kind to those she had slept with…well one was better than the other. Sure, she got to have fun but nothing was Earth shattering or mind blowing it was good, but she wanted more than good when it came to relations. So, after that she still smiled and joked with Alexei at work, but really, she just wanted him to get the courage to ask out the girl of his dreams. She had spent most of her free time with Mildred at the house, learning to cook and not burn everything, as well as how to enjoy the smaller things in life. Mildred in her age was teaching Carson so much more than her own family ever taught her, teaching her to sing songs at the top her lungs, dance like no one is watching, and remember that life is too short to live with any regrets. She had told Mildred about her weekend with the boys and the woman was full of advice that Carson didn’t know how to handle her wisdom. Carson wasn’t one to settle down, she was one to live life and only have fun. Not to settle and actually find love because love, romantic love or familial love had never existed for her. Platonic love from Astraea and Artie existed but it was different and they were easy to love.
Now that the Fourth had arrived Carson was in her room getting herself ready. She had been struggling on getting ready because as much as she acted like she never cared, she cared about her appearance. She worked hard to look put together and she was deciding between what shades of makeup to wear. She had almost everything together as she was scrolling through her phone and messing around on Twitter. It was in those last moments of getting ready that she heard the door knock. She quickly but carefully applied her lipstick before rushing to the door. The smile on her face grew when she saw Astraea, “Look at my gorgeous girl.” She teased. Her eyes looking towards Artie in the car, “and there’s my handsome boy. Let’s get going.” She said a quick goodbye to Mildred and was out the door and towards the car.
The second she opened the car door she made it known to Artie she had arrived, “Hello Artemis. Did you miss my beautiful face? Or is it too much for you to handle?” She knew her and Artie were a lot less talkative with one another but she hadn’t seen much of him. “I hope you two are ready to celebrate our independence tonight. I know I am. Just” she paused for a moment, “make sure when I’m drunk, I don’t go back to Thad and don’t let him try anything. Please?” As much as Carson hated to admit it, she had her weakness in Thad. She didn’t love him but he was the closest to romantic love she had ever had.
The italic metal ladder rungs were shifty, but there never would be a will stronger than Zachary Lee’s. It wasn’t even his ladder. In these night hours, where it came from or where it didn’t come from, whether it’s weight strained his shoulders as he carried it over a fence soundlessly or not was a lesser concern; his mercenary mind was only on the girl on the rooftop. His sneakers slanted up on the tin staircase, his eyes receiving left and right on the serene alley lamped by street posts. He picked up on the frequent car tires rolling on concrete, but otherwise it was silent.
His hand crooked around the margin of the brick wall to roof shingle, then his other tailgated after. Trying time with risks, he heaved himself up by his arms, tendon to muscle scrunching when he rolled flat on his back on the roof.
Retrieving on his feet, he found Harper Anderson loomed beneath a sky where faint isolated breezes migrated with the opaque clouds and picked up on the corners of her blanket and her soft brown hair. With her knees loosely bent and soft eyes on something deep in the sky, he was right to seek her out.
His mouth curled to a wan smile, electrically begging on the corners of his lips, as he sounded, “Surprise.”
He was veering closer from her left and his walk was like trying to control neon; his asymmetric bar of steps were flashily slow but there was the faint ignition of tension that bustled under.
When he sat down, he didn’t turn his head right away towards her. For how could he comfort her now that he liked her? In his course of thinking, his hand had pushed and pulled towards her free fingers. Sorely wordless, his palm fell over her hand, thumb grazing over the dimples of her knuckles.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he finally said, “For once, I know how you feel.”
Prolonging his head towards her after a couple moments of star-watching, he shifted his aura of character.
“Do you have any idea-” his crusade-wild eyes reached her like two pre-existing stars that could only be star-watched by her, “How much I like you.”
“And, at the end of it all,” he furthered, “I will be the problem. I don’t shine too little. I shine too bright, Harper. Not like the Orion or the dipper, but someone that burns too much and too fast that people always get hurt.”
“But, even right now, if you said jump, I’d jump off this roof for you,” he mused, kicking the padding of the roof beneath the sole of his shoe.
A wry little smile tugged free. “And, it’s selfish. But, for the time being, I can’t be helped. You can’t save me from yourself, can you?”
Lemon had been on the ground for what felt like forever until she felt the presence of another followed by his voice, the concern and sobriety laced in his words. She shrugged at his comments, “I don’t care. Let the cars come.” Her words slurred together in her drunken state. She was sad, about Max, about Alabama, about Reid, and even about Johnathan. The second she felt Reid grab her hands she went limp not offering help. She could hear his struggles but she couldn’t even begin to have the motivation to help him. Why should she? When she felt him go for her waist she pushed back, “No! Stop! Don’t!” she felt her heart rate rise, “Please don’t touch me.” She felt her voice crack at her plea, and the lump in her throat. There was so much wrong and the pain, the pain was more than she could even handle after pushing it down for so long.
She looked at Reid as he sat down next to her and she wasn’t sure how to begin telling him what was wrong. Instead she ignored his question and went to messaging his mom. She wasn’t okay and she knew it. She knew she was far from ever being ok, she was drunk in the road and the one person that shouldn’t be helping her was. As she tried to message his mom more, she felt him reach over for her phone and grab it. Her attempt to get up wound up with her feeling really dizzy but she was now face to face with the blue-eyed boy. His face told her to talk with him and could feel her hands shake from the fear. From the memories.
When she looked at him all she thought about was that night, there was so much blood and she could feel the tears, “I ruin everything Reid.” Her words were a whisper. The words hurt her, “It was my fault. I should have said something after the first date.” The sentence was difficult for her to get out, “Did anyone ever tell you what happened?” She knew they didn’t but asking the question made this whole situation feel less tense, but the fact was the memory hurt, the past hurt and Max made her remember every detail, remember how she had ruined everything. She couldn’t even look at Reid as she spoke, “Max asked what happened. Why I’m drinking, and then he ignored me so I slapped him. You know the ending, but not the beginning of how everything played out.”
Lemon started Reid off at the very beginning of that last summer. She remembered she had “blossomed” (her mother’s words) and almost everyone from their hometown was trying to talk with her and go on a date with her, but she hadn’t actually been looking. She wanted to spend time with Reid and hang out like they always did. Sure, she knew he had been busy with other girls and guys and she wished he would have made more time for her but they weren’t little kids anymore and she had to accept that. She had been working hard to accept that but it hadn’t come easy and her feeling were hurt from it. So, she had spent more time at her grandparents, in her room there. That was when her father had set her up on a date with Johnathan Little, the son of the police chief.
Now, every girl wanted to date Johnathan. This boy was cute, had a great family, and if you got in good with the family nothing bad would happen to you. A whole layer of power and corruption laced within the town. Anyways Lemon hadn’t really wanted to go on a date with him, but she couldn’t really say no to her dad so she had agreed. She had wanted to go and find and outfit and had asked Reid to join not really telling him why but he had bailed on her. So, she had gone alone and run into Johnathan and his friends. The whole trip at the mall had been uncomfortable. John had managed to touch her more often than she had liked. Let his hands quickly grab at her before acting like nothing happened.
When it came time for the date Lemon hadn’t been feeling well. She was more than anxious about it, but he arrived at their set time right on the dot and they were off. It had been an okay date initially. Really Lemon could have left it as was but John had decided to take her for a walk and they wound up by one of the old barns. Lemon felt uneasy as John flirted with her, made not so subtle hints to her that he was attracted to her. And that was when he leaned in to kiss her. She had turned away. This was when she realized all his niceness was a full act. He had yelled at her, called her more names than she had ever been called and threatened to make sure her family was ruined if she ever turned him down. She remembered the tears that she held back. The happy fake pictures she took with him, and then that night she remembered staring at the ceiling and she remembered trying to text Reid and she never hit the send button on her message.
She could barely look at Reid when she finished part of the story, “There’s more, but can we go to your car? Please?” she still hadn’t looked at him, because had she sent one message at any point in time while with John none of the events that happened would have ever happened. She ruined everything for everyone in her life because she didn’t know how to speak up when she was unhappy.
there are so many beautiful reasons to be happy....
Astraea was so excited to get the whole group back together, they hadn’t spent much time as the four of them since the Start of Summer festival. Artie had been extra quiet since the end of June, but Astraea was happy she was able to get him out of the house. Astraea wrapped an arm around Carson’s waist as they walked towards the car, before they separated and Astraea took the front seat once again.
“I’m sure he did.” Astraea giggled, as she shoved Artemis playfully in the shoulder. Maybe these three wouldn’t be such close friends if they hadn’t had Astraea to bring them together. Not that Astraea could ever think that herself. She just saw the great friendship she had with these two people. “Is Hassim there yet?” Astraea wiggled her eyebrows in the rearview mirror as he looked back at her brunette friend sitting behind Artemis.
Astraea turned backwards to face Carson with the most excited look on her face. “I’m sure Hassim will keep you from texting Thad.” Astraea snickered covering her mouth with her hand. Throwing a wink badly at one of her best friends. Astraea turned back around to Artemis. “Don’t you think Hassim and Carson would make a great couple Artie?” Astraea smiled at her other friend, and roommate, with her big blue doe eyes. Astraea wanted to believe in this magical thing called love, Hassim moved here for a reason, right? Maybe that reason was to meet Carson so they could fall in-love and grow old together.
Without fail, Astraea changed the subject before Artemis could even answer her question. “Where are we going? I saw the Moore’s were throwing a party on Twitter!!” She bounced in her seat as she reached across her body to put her seat belt on. “At least there is free booze there, right? No need to waste all our money at the bars.”
She smirked as she leaned back against the passenger seat as Artemis began to back out of Carson’s driveway. She couldn’t wait for her first party where she was legally allowed to drink. The idea of dancing around someone’s backyard, like most did in the movies, maybe she would bump into her one true love that night too. Just like the main character always did.
TL;DR Romir is both obnoxious and annoying while he picks up Oliver for their trip
look at this idiotic fool that you've made me
Rome grinned as Oliver opened the door. He opened his mouth to greet him, but Rome could practically feel the tension radiating off of the other boy, so he stayed quiet as Oliver said nothing. He followed the other boy to the end of the hallway and once again opened his mouth to say something, only to be gestured away once more by Oliver.
Rolling his eyes - even if he respected Oliver’s boundaries - Rome followed him, walking until they were completely out of the apartment building itself. He looked at Oliver and shot him a thumbs up with one hand, and then pointed to his mouth with the other to ask silently if he could speak. Once he got the okay, he took a deep breath as if he’d been holding it.
“Firefly time!” He said, grinning as he walked cheerfully down to the sidewalk. “I’m didn’t bring car. My uncle is use it… I think he is at bar or cas…cas…” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m forget English word. You go, pay money, lose money, play card, red, black, who know?” He shrugged, talking a mile a minute as he walked down the street and toward the forest area where he intended on firefly hunting. “Anyway, is walking distance. So we are walk, and we are go over firefly hunt strategy.”
"That damn cook. He must be so full of himself to ignore my job application."
Sunny's voice was full of rage, but she still smiled brightly at the reflection of her face. That was something you just needed to do after being finished with doing your makeup- no matter what you're feelings were. She added some more red lipstick and smacked her lips gently together. Her make up was on point. Her lips were a pretty cherry color and her eyeliner was so sharp it could cut human flesh, not speaking about the gorgeous glow of her highlight. However her pretty face wasn't enough to make Sunny any happier. And when she paid attention at the reflection of her body, she felt how the unhappiness started to grow.
Her body had always been a sore subject. She was too short, too fat and her skin wasn't light and clear enough. Maybe he wasn't worth of the job after all- not that she actually needed the money. Working in a cool and hip restaurant would've just been a dream. Sunny was sure she could have some eye candy while serving the customers. She had heard that it was favorite spot of uni students because of the close distance to the university. And for some reason the local uni students were all super hot. Maybe she could even flirt with them and find the prince or princess of her dreams.. Sunny's thoughts were running little too fast and she needed to put a stop on it.
Maybe she still had hope and all the mentioned would come true. Sunny perhaps had no experience of working in restaurants, but she was polite and fast to learn: so a perfect fit for the job.Maybe the cook guy, Johnny, Johan, Yohan or whatever, had missed her email. Maybe it went to the spam folder.. wait.. that couldn't be it! She was left on read, Sunny was pretty sure about it. Fine. She would find the guy and personally ask why she had been ignored. The girl decided on this after changing her clothes for the third time. The outfit wasn't perfect but she looked the skinniest in it, so it would do.
Besides her makeup being so lit balanced it out, her hair was all right too and curled in pretty beachy waves. Sunny took a selfie since later the night she wouldn't be in proper selfie state. Party selfies were fun, but not when one looked too drunk and that was what she was planning on doing. After taking around like fifty or sixty selfies, she realized how much the clock was. She was going to be late, very late. Or actually she was already late. Tho it was fine: the party would take lot of time, hopefully. Besides there was nothing wrong with being fashionably late.
Sunny took her handbag and after a quick visit to her fathers liquor stash and her step mother's wine cabinet, Sunny was ready. Luckily her parents were in opera with some family friends and that would take some time as well. They didn't need to know about Sunny... borrowing something to drink. She put on pair of new high heels that were tall enough to give her some height but small enough to not make her walk like a freaking Bambi. With these thoughts sunny left her home. The house the party took place was pretty close, So it would be easy enough for Sunny to walk there: even in high heels. Sunny kept walking and walking.
The distance of the buildings were bigger than she anticipated and her feet started to hurt. Perhaps it wasn't a smart choice to wear a pair of new high heels to walk. She should have took a sneakers with her and then changed into the heels after arriving. It was too late now. Sunny took couple more steps and that's when he saw him: Yohan was driving car to the opposite direction Sunny was going. This was a sign and she needed to act. Sunny took the shoes of and put them on her bag. She started to run closer to the car while shaking her hands hig up in the air. "Stoop! Stoop right now!" She screamed as loud as she could once she was in front of the car, which was forced to slown down and eventually stop driving all together.
Sunny walked to the side of driver and knocked to the window with her long cherry red nails. She looked down to the driver curiously. Damn, wasn't he fine! A great example what the species of men could possibly be. No.. She couldn't be thinking about that! Mad! She was supposed to be mad!
when you wear a mask for so long, you forget who is behind it.
Harper had been rather distracted by her own thoughts to even notice an invader in her own backyard. She had been too busy watching the stars, recalling the names as her eyes grazed across the familiar constellations. Only to be disturbed by the quiet clang of a metal ladder on the edge of the roof.
Harper only stared at the top rung of the ladder as she heard footsteps begin to climb. Could someone have thought that her house was empty with intent to break in tonight. It was a good assumption thinking that everyone would be at the Moore’s for the fireworks.
With a silent sigh of relief as the top of a shaggy haired blonde boy’s head came into view. Harper hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath until her entire body relaxed at the sight that it was only Zach. “What are you doing here?” Harper muttered out as he climbed the rest of the way onto the roof. She went back to watching the stars again. “Don’t you have a party to go to?” She asked. Not taking her eyes away from the stars above them.
He didn’t answer her question. Harper knew why, she had been trying to avoid thinking about his confession for the past week. What was she Supposed to say to that? She didn’t want to play Zach’s games, she didn’t want to be his next ‘conquest’. Zach was always joking around, how was she supposed to even take his confession seriously. What game was he trying to play now?
Harper’s arm flexed, frozen, unable to move as Zach placed his hand on top of hers. Rolling his thumb over her knuckles, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see Zach staring ahead all the same as he spoke. She had forgotten that Zach didn’t have his mom either, she had run away from his family… She was still out there, just choosing to not see her own son and daughter.
Angela hadn’t chosen to leave her kids; she had been cursed to. Harper knew that her mother would have given up anything, just to have one more normal day with Hayden and her. Angela would have picked Harper and Hayden again and again, no questions asked. Harper pressed her lips together, choaking back any tears that threatened to escape.
Like something had taken over Harper, she pulled her hand out from underneath Zach’s for only a moment before she interlaced her fingers between his. Harper wasn’t sure what she was doing, she could only listen to Zach as he caught her eyes with his own. For so long being around Zach hadn’t meant anything, it was easy, it was fun. He was extremely annoying.
Harper was at a loss for words when Zach had finished speaking, Harper was struggling to continue to believe this was another one of his jokes. “Zach…” She trailed off as she tried to pry her eyes away from his blue ones. Only able to move them a few inches down to his hand that covered hers like a set of armor.
“I can’t even save me from myself.” She said quietly as she stared at the roof under their paired hands. Harper could barely lift her chin to look at Zach again. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to look up at him again either.