Just a story... or is it??  

ThumbChickStool 34F
541 posts
7/30/2005 5:39 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Just a story... or is it??

“I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this,” I said for the thousandth time in the last hour.

“Relax, Cat-lady. I’ve known you since high school, and I can count on one hand how many parties you’ve been to since starting college. This is your senior year! Party, relax, stop being such a study-body. Now sit here so I can do your hair,” says my supposed best friend Clarice. Unfortunately, she’s right. I’m so shy, I tend to stay away from the ‘parties’ that are going on around me in the dorms. Plus, I’ve seen some of what happens to the guys and girls that go to those things. I’m really not interested in getting wasted, getting groped by some guy, and then waking up in the morning with a hang over and trying to remember the guy’s name or if we used protection. I’m so not into that. But Clarice is right, I need to get out more often. Hence, my current situation.

I’m standing in her room, and it looks like a clothes tornado hit and hit hard. I’m standing in the eye of the storm wearing an outfit I would never ever choose on my own: a red faux-wrap top with spaghetti straps, a black pleather skirt that comes up uncomfortably high, and black leather knee high boots. I can’t get comfortable in this outfit, and I keep tugging on the skirt or the top.

“Come on Cat, sit over here so I can do your hair!” Clarice demands.

“I would, but I can’t walk in these damned ankle-killers you call boots,” I yell back. After tottering precariously around her room, I finally sit where she wants me too. I close my eyes, and try not to think about what Clarice is doing to me. I can feel her tugging, and spraying, and pinning, and then taking it all down and doing it all over again.

“Are you done yet?” I ask her, a little afraid. She shushes me, and keeps on going. After an eternity, Clarice declares, “I’m done! But don’t open your eyes, I’m going to start on your make-up.” I moan, and get a swat on my head for letting my opinion known. “Girl, relax. By the time I’m done, you’re going to get any guy you want. Especially that Jeff guy you keep going on about.” I think about responding to that, but then I feel her starting on the make-up and decide to wisely keep my mouth shut. Instead, I start listing the ten qualities of good leadership in my head. By the time I reach quality number 8, I hear Clarice murmur her appreciation, “Damn, girl, I’m good. Open your eyes.”

I slowly and cautiously open one eye, and then both of my eyes pop open when I see what’s in the mirror. Somehow, Clarice has turned me into Cinderella. My dark brown hair is piled into curls on top of my head, but instead of looking messy it looks damned sexy with some stray curls framing my face. I don’t know what she used, but my face looks like it’s made of delicate porcelain. And my eyes. Wow. I like my eyes, but the way Clarice did them, they really pop and make me look smoldering, like classic Hollywood. She somehow made my cheekbones stand out even more, and my generous full lips demand to be kissed. “Clarice, I just might have to let you convince me to go to these parties more often,” I murmured, admiring myself in the mirror.

“I’m glad you like. I knew my tuition was well spent. Now let’s go, the hotties are waiting.”
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” I murmured to Clarice, although I doubt she heard me. The music is raucous, and right this second is playing some sort of heavy . I’m looking around, and the longer we’re here, the more uncomfortable I feel. Maybe it’s all the guys staring at me, I tell myself as I tug on the skirt and the top for the millionth time. I try to get into the spirit of fun, and Clarice subtly hands me a drink. I sniff at it cautiously, and give Clarice my patented Look.

“Don’t worry. I poured the beer, and kept my eye on it the whole time. It’s safe,” Clarice tries to reassure me, but it doesn’t help. I’m not much of a drinker, and in this environment I’m starting to think maybe I’d be better off sober.
“Girl, relax. Drink the beer, and chill. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” I snort at this.

“Clarice, I’m thinking one of us needs to be sober. And I’m thinking that one of us should be me, seeing how I’ve got enough sense for the both of us,” I tell her. Judging by the look on her face, I’m not getting out of this.

“Cat-lady, we’re here, you’re dressed to kill, and you’re going to be sober? Come on, let down your hair and let go of your inhibitions. Besides, I have a gut feeling something incredible is going to happen tonight. Just indulge me, and drink a few beers. Or at the very least, drink this one.”

I sigh, and silently pray to whatever deity is out there to make sure I don’t completely lose my sensibility. “Bottoms up,” I say, and then quickly chug my drink. A small round of cheers lets loose around me, and I start to relax a little bit. It helps that the music has been changed to some high-tempo club music. Maybe this can be fun after all...

A few more drinks and great songs later, I see him. And for some odd reason, I can’t breathe. Can Adonis truly exist? If he does, he is standing across the room from me. Easily over six feet tall, with slightly tanned skin suggesting time spent outside, and a body supporting the theory of some athleticism. I try to tear my eyes off of his perfect face. That face: brilliant blue eyes surrounded by long thick blond lashes, a classic Roman nose, chiseled cheeks, and a strong jaw line. And the lips, gently smiling with dimples on either side, making me want to rush over to him and gently kiss every part of his lips and dimples. All that perfection framed with blond hair that is pulled back into a ponytail with loose strands falling out, making me want to tuck the hair behind his ears.

I feel a jab in my ribs, bringing me back to reality. “Now Cat, unless you are trying to make a couple of frogs jealous, I suggest you shut your mouth. And I thought you were ga-ga over Jeff?” Clarice joked. I turned to my best friend, still in some sort of shock.

“Who is he? I thought I knew everyone on our side of campus, why haven’t I seen him before?” I ask, still trying to figure out my odd reactions towards this perfect Adonis come to life.

“Why Cat-lady, I’ve never seen you this fixated on a guy. What happened to ‘guys aren’t worth the trouble’?” Clarice provoked further. I quickly turned on her and gave her my sternest glare. “Whoa, girl, chill, just joshing you. That, my dear, is Raven. At least that’s what everyone calls him. No one knows what’s his real name, not even the faculty. And the reason why you don’t know him is because he just transferred this semester. Apparently, he has three more semesters to go, just like you.”

“And why did he transfer?” I asked, suddenly very curious. She’s right, I’ve never cared about a guy before. So why him, and why now?

“The rumor mill says,” Clarice stops at my disbelieving snort, “you’re going to be mistaken for a pig if you keep doing that. The rumor mill says that he transferred here from NYU because of conduct unbecoming of a student. A.K.A. he was banging one of the teachers. Actually, that’s more like three of the teachers.”

I feel my jaw drop at this news, and my eyes are drawn back to him. His eyes meet mine, and I can feel a frisson go down my back. Somehow, I knew my life would never be the same again.

So what do you think? Should I add? Or leave it as wasted creative energy?

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