#I should get them framed in obnoxiously large posters and stick them on my wall

[caterpillarinacave]

Have I ever mentioned how much I love the NATM1 movie posters? I’m not sure why but the lighting, the warmth, all of the exhibits around it’s so 2000s. It’s so fun. It’s so visually appealing. Feels like childhood. Phenomenal.

[threads-and-fate]

Session 1: Welcome to Arden High

There’s only one place to start, and that's the beginning. It was an early Wednesday morning. The heat having not settled over the growing gathering of young teenagers yet. The sky was clear and highlighted the tall building they stood outside of. Smooth clean stone fences surrounded the tall school. The school itself was a pale white colored brick building with mosaic windows with various shades of blue, purple, and green. Standing within the gates was and average height girl, with two others behind her. She stood on top of a soap box and was directing the crowd some and half discussing something with one of the other girls. One was knelt and working on something on her phone.

A girl with vanilla dyed hair stood, Hazel Foltz, with a small group, excitedly observing her surroundings. With her stood five other teens, two other girls and three boys.

“This place is crowded, there has to be at least two hundred students here.” The boy with black hair and a hoodie noted, his name is Jamie Runfords.

A girl with colorfully streaked hair stood with him, that’s Camilla Jane Runfords, but don’t call her Camilla, just Cami. She was bouncing up and down, her rainboots making weird squeaking sounds.

"ITS HUGE, IT’S LIKE A WHOLE HOUSE!"

Meanwhile, Jamie was holding her hand in attempts to prevent her running off right away. She stayed put but was squeezing the life out of her cousin’s hand.

An annoyed brunet nearby rubbed his temples. “Cami this is much larger than a house,” Oliver sighed.

"Ok, four houses!" She corrected

Mia, the strawberry pink of our neapolitan quadruplets, giggled at Oliver’s annoyed look. Hazel hummed quietly as she looked onward, pushing her glasses into place. Ethan, a boy with cherry dyed hair and a denim jacket, looked around, standing on his toes to get a better look at the girl at the front. The Foltz’ all were in an almost square.

Jamie looked at the sea of heads and faces fidgeting slightly. "I hope the hallways are big because cramming this many people into classes is gonna  be worse than middle school...”

Nearby a girl pushed a boy’s wheelchair cautiously through the crowd, wearing headphones that lit up to some unhearable beat.

Hazel turned and grinned. “We’ll be broken down into classes, no class is larger than twenty people I read!”

Oliver sighed in relief at that. “That’s good to hear,”

"That’s a little better." Jamie nodded in agreement.

Mia smiled and nodded. “Though we may get separated some then.” She sounded a tad disappointed.

"There’s always study group just in case." Cami pat her friend on the shoulder. "But we should end up together in at least one class!"

She smiled and nodded, enthusiasm returning. “You’re right! And hopefully we’ll have lunch together,”

Cami grinned, Jamie was thinking about Elliot. "I can’t believe we’re finally here, Elliot is also gonna be in 3rd grade this year, I hope I can work out some way to walk with him before our bus comes,"

"If you can’t, he has to get used to going to the bus or his classes alone sometime Jamie.” Cami shrugged. "He's a big kid,"

Jamie frowned at the idea.

The teen at the front was speaking to the black haired girl and the brunette next to her. The brunette looked excited as they spoke, the black haired girl was watching the crowd more so. She seemed a little weary, like she hadn’t signed up to help.

Mia hummed. “He can still be a little protective Cami, till at least 5th grade?”

Oliver rolled his eyes at them. “Don’t baby him too much,”

"All I’ve done is baby him, nobody else would," Jamie said.

"But auntie can do that now for you," Cami reminded him. "That’s her job. She’s your mom now,”

"Really, I didn’t know."

Ethan shrugged. “Nothing wrong with babying him a bit, just as long as he doesn’t get bratty...”

Hazel shook her head. “This is Elliot we’re talking about, Ethan.” He chuckled and nodded at that.

"If he turns out bad I’ll blame myself really," Jamie chuckled awkwardly.

Mia pat his shoulder a bit stiffly.

Cami stood on her tiptoes to see. "Are we gonna go in soon? I’m getting antsy,"

The sound of a microphone being tapped a few times began to get everyone’s attention

“Hello? Is it on- oh there it is, thank you Charisse for making it work!” The girl chimed politely.

The girl stood on her soapbox, dead center of the gates. The large school towered over her, the building was decorative, colorful glass panes made up a gradient on the front tower like structure. The school looked like what maybe a modernized castle may have looked like. Sleek but sturdy and maybe a bit intimidating. She and the other two girls all wore similar uniforms, the ties being the only difference.

Cami squealed. "Its starting!"

Mia bounced excitedly with her. Ethan was beginning to rock between heels and his toes even.

“Hello freshman! Good morning!” Her tone was chipper, but not obnoxiously so. “I hope you slept well, if not I’m terribly sorry this is taking place at seven AM,” She announced.

Oliver huffed a laugh at that.

Cami shrugged. “I didn't sleep last night anyways I was too excited,"

“Everyone, my name is Laci Paulk, I am the student council president. I’ll be giving you a tour today of our quite frankly enormous school,” She went on. Adjusting her braid as she spoke before rocking her weight to one side, her tie was a dark purple. “With me is two students that are now going up to sophomore and junior year, they’ll help answer questions,”

She turned to her company and held the mic out, a faint. “Want to introduce yourselves?” Was heard from Laci.

The other brunette stepped up, her hair was a shoulder length messy bob, her tie was a lilac.  “Morning everybody! My name’s Charisse Galate and I hope you guys are excited! I know I was when I first started,” She spoke enthusiastically. She squinted at the crowd “Aaandd somewhere out theeerree is my brothe- HI JEREMYYYYY!!!” She said unnecessarily loudly to annoy him, waving erratically. A few people winced at the yelling over the microphone.

The boy nearby in the wheelchair slowly covered his face, making various dying sounds. The girl with headphones pat his back sympathetically.

Jamie sent his condolences as well to whoever the girl was talking about.

She passed the mic to the next girl who stepped up as she went down, she had long curly black hair and a tie that was pastel blue. “Mornin’, not gonna lie I don’t wanna be awake but hey, my friends are here so I am too, my name is Simone O’Rourke, I just graduated the year you’re going into.” She briefly waved as she spoke, pushing her hair back out of her face.

The boy in the wheelchair softly laughed into his hands at her usual behavior.

“Also... If you guys know what a packet teacher is... beware of geography,” She warned, “And Lasomono is weird but ok.” She added glancing off.

“Simone!” Laci hissed from the sidelines.

Some students groaned at the info, others were laughing.

Jamie made note of this. "Take the vital info while we can get it guys,"

Laci walked up a bit stiffly before holding out her hand and then taking the microphone. She returned to the box.

“Alriiightt, now that that’s done,” She slightly glared at Simone who was still grinning.  “Let’s get on with the tour shall we? Charisse will be mingling with all of you and Simone will be at the very back to make sure everyone stays together, now!”  She stepped off the box, lifting it to reveal it was the speaker, she hung it from her shoulder like a bag and made a motion to follow.

Simone sidled out of the crowds way to head towards the back. Standing off to the side and sliding along the noisy crowd. Simone took over pushing the boy’s wheelchair once her friends met her in the back of the hoard.

Cami started skipping to keep up with the hoard, Jamie kept pace with her by simply speed walking. Ethan was trying to keep stride with them, Mia joined her in skipping, Hazel was nearly there but not as obvious.

Cami grabbed Ethan’s hand with her free one and smiled. "Can’t lose anyone in the hoard, c’mon Oliver you wanna skip too?"

Oliver shook his head rapidly. “No thank you!”

Ethan smirked at him and promptly skipped along with the girls.

Jamie shrugged. "You’ll have to keep up via speed walking then, they skip rather fast."

Oliver sighed annoyed and continued speed walking.

Charisse eventually had filtered her way towards them, and was skipping with them jokingly “Why are we skipping?”

Jamie pointed to Cami. "I don’t think she remembers how to walk really. She skips a lot so we kinda started a chain?"

Cami nodded. "Its more fun than walking,"

Charisse snickered before stopping and walking instead.

Cami made sure everyone was still semi close by. "Ethan, I’m giving you candy when we stop for not being a stick and skipping with us,"

“Sooo kiddos, any questions?” She quirked her head casually.

Ethan cheered a bit before looking at Charisse. “You’re not that much older than us, why kiddos?”

“Because I can! Next question.” She clapped.

Hazel watched the halls and the decorations on the walls, posters, photos, decor of all sorts were organized rather neatly along the neutral colored surface. Giving it pops of color in a semi-chaotic way. There were framed pictures of classes and activities as well. The school ironically felt like some extension of home with all of the displays proudly showing off it’s students and teachers.

"WHAT’S ON THE LUNCH MENU?" Cami shouted more so than asked.

Charisse’s nose scrunched. “Uhh, it changes throughout the year usually? You can check the site once the year starts to have a heads up for the week’s menu, I advise bringing snacks either way though because we can only get one serving,” She explained.

They had apparently gotten far enough back for Simone to contribute. “AND THE SERVING SIZES SUCK!” Jeremy face palmed.

Charisse rolled her eyes. “And you have the appetite of four of the swim team members!”

Jamie laughed. "I think Cami managed to feed everyone once from her candy hoard in her bag,"

Cami nodded proudly and tossed Charisse a snickers. "Thank you for the heads up!"

“That's.... impressive..” She caught it. “Very impressive,”

"I have lots in this bag."

“Serving sizes are kinda small but filling, so again, snacks.” Charisse pocketed the candy for later.

She took out her favorite brick as an example.

“Leeettts not carry that to school?” Charisse said in a confused tone.

"I read the rules, its allowed actually,"

"What part of the handbook was this?" Jamie quirked an eyebrow

"I dunno but Oliver had it highlighted." She paused then added, "Most of it was highlighted,"

Oliver sighed. “It said no knives or weapons on school grounds.... Technically a brick isn’t a weapon, it’s a building material,”

"Exactly,"

Charisse snorted. “I feel bad for whoever pisses you off- wait can I swear in front freshman? Meh sure,” She muttered.

Jamie shrugged. "Not like we haven’t heard the words before,"

“Fair enough,” She nodded.

Cami snickered. "Auntie gets heated sometimes,"

“So, what’s the student council president like? She seems nice?” Hazel queried.

“Laci? Yeah she’s nice. Mostly focused on studies and president stuff though, she has a friend that’s in your year I think? Or is he in sophomore now?” She pondered aloud.

"Who are the teachers to get." Cami continued the line of questions.

“Uhh, geez well I think you guys are getting Simone’s teacher set so uh- SIMONE COME DO YOUR JOB!” She yelled before stepping off to another crowd.

Simone made an annoyed noise, letting the boy take over pushing the wheelchair and heading forward. “Yeah?”

"Teachers to get?" Cami repeated.

“Hmm, Mrs. Turman’s awesome. She’s kinda slow, she’s older. But if you behave or do well on stuff she gives out caramel or other candy?” She shrugged.

"I like candy!" Cami perked up.

“Mr. Watton is the gym teacher and he’s kind of.... Annoying? Ok, no, he’s incredibly obnoxious.“ She snorted at herself.

Oliver rose an eyebrow. “A bit rude aren’t you,” He muttered to Jamie.

"She could be speaking the truth, we'll have to see for ourselves though, I think it’s kinda funny." Jamie mumbled back with a shrug.

Oliver sighed and nodded.

“He’s waaay too enthusiastic, if you end up like I did, you’ll get him first thing in the morning which is utter hell.” She groaned at the memory.

"Morning gym sounds..ew.." Jamie made a face at the idea.  "Whos idea was morning gym,"

“No clue, but they’re a moron,” Simone muttered.

Cami shifted her weight back and forth in her spot thinking. "I could run in the morning if needed!"

Jamie then prayed he didn’t have gym in the morning and with Cami. One or the other or else he might not survive long.

“Uhhh, the geo teacher, Mr. Clause is kind of a pain, he’s the packet teacher,” She rattled off.

Mia tilted her head at Simone. “This may be more social and less school related but, you’re the one who ended up helping us solve that question a while back right?”

Simone thought for a moment. “Oh the summer warm ups for freshman? Yeah that was me,” She smirked.

Cami stared at Simone's face for a second and slowly nodded. "Hey.. Yeah!! She's right! You ordered blueberry lemonade I think,"

Ethan sighed. “We were stumped, how did you remember that?”

“I had literally an hour before then helped my friends with the same problem,” She grinned “Don’t worry, rarely does anyone get that right without help,”

Hazel rubbed her face, shoving her glasses up. “Uughh, I hate those kinds of problems!”

"Well, we owe ya," Cami added. "If we can ever help you out sometime let us know!"

She smiled politely as they stopped slightly. Seeing a staircase up ahead as Laci turned to face the crowd. Despite a little over a hundred people filling the hall it managed fairly well. It was crowded but not painfully cramped.

“I know we have someone who is in a wheelchair so umm,” She paused briefly. “Charisse, take your brother to the elevator?”

Simone immediately bolted. “I’VE GOT IT!!” She pushed the chair past the crowd, hopping onto a bar on the back that appeared to have been added.

“SIMONESIMONESIMONE NOOOO!!!” Jeremy shrieked as they sharply rounded a corner. Cackling heard down the hall as the girl with headphones ran after.

Laci sighed slowly. “.... You can’t say I didn’t try,”

Charisse laughed. “They’re inseparable what’d you expect?” Was heard from the microphone as well. “She’s just glad they’re all in the same building again,” Charisse continued grinning.

Mia grinned. “They seemed pretty close,”

“And a bit crazy,” Oliver murmured.

Cami nodded at Mia, Jamie sent his condolences out again. "I just hope we don’t hear any crashing noises in a moment,"

Cami sighed. "Oliver, do you even ride the baby coasters at the fair with that attitude?"

“He’s in a wheelchair, she should be more cautious!” Oliver huffed and folded his arms at her.

Hazel awkwardly smiled but nodded as they headed up the stairwell. “He could get hurt,”

Once they made it to the second level they caught sight of the trio again, Simone riding the back of the wheelchair again. At a more reasonable speed this time however.

"If you’re stuck in a wheelchair you should have a little fun!" Cami retorted as they stepped out into the open. "He's alive right over there,"

He looked a bit ruffled and was currently whining at her. “Siimoooneeee, you’re gonna break my wheelchair!” He groaned.

“Nonsense, I re-enforced it last month!” She chirped.

Nell motioned to the duo and signed something at them. Simone grinned and Jeremy sighed again.

“You two will be the death of me.” He motioned as he spoke.

Mia tilted her head. “Why sign language? She has to be able to hear if she has headphones on?”

Hazel shrugged. “I don’t know but come on we’re lagging behind.” She lightly nudged the group forward.

Cami resumed the skipping chain, Jamie was not prepared and screeched a little and caught up.

"You’re gonna tear my arm off," He huffed.

"Your fault for holding on to my hand like I’m five though," She retorted.

Mia curiously watched over her shoulder as the three talked amongst themselves.

Ethan shrugged. “Maybe she's mute?”

“But.... She can hear still?” Mia looked incredibly lost. “But I feel it may be rude to ask...”

"Lets not right now," Jamie agreed.

Cami wasn't phased. "Maybe it's like a code, I have my own code in my head,"

“Why in your head?” Ethan asked confused.

"Helps me group stuff sometimes," She explained. "I have so many thoughts bouncing around at once,"

"But you’ve heard me refer to you guys as oranges before, that’s like code." Cami stopped to stare and think. "Or maybe I only group you like that in my head.."

Mia tilted her head. “I think I’ve heard you mention it,”

Oliver had a look that said he didn’t want to know what went on in Cami’s head. Cami continued walking lost in thought.

“Is she ok?” Ethan asked quietly.

Hazel shrugged.

Jamie nodded. "She's fine,"

Cami snapped out of it and brushed off the question. "Oh, well just know you guys are great,"

Mia beamed. “You are too Cami!”

Cami smiled wide. "Aw thank you! Hey look more buildings.. How big is this school.."

Out a window they were passing showed another large chunk of the school grounds, two buildings were visible along with what appeared to be a soccer field. The shorter building was closer and appeared to be a gym. The building behind it appeared to be two or three stories high on it’s own. It’s dome shaped roof and vaguely visible opening implied it was an observatory. The grounds themselves they could see were well trimmed and kept. Neat purple and blue flower beds lined the walkways.

“This place could classify as a small city,” Hazel murmured.

Oliver glanced over. “Am I the only one listening to the guide?”

“I’m listening!” Hazel huffed defensively. “..... Kind of.”

Mia sheepishly smiled. “Oops...”

Ethan snorted. “Wow, the ever attentive Hazel isn't paying attention?” He jabbed her side to which she smacked.

“Shut up I was trying to be social! And I asked Charisse some questions.” She continued giving her “explanations”. Hazel isn’t one to admit things like this if you couldn’t tell.

Cami was staring at water spots on a ceiling tile. "Hey, that one looks like a plus sign,"

Jamie laughed. "I was half paying attention, Cami's exploring on her own now,"

Simone was still behind them to make sure they didn't get separated. She was pushing the wheelchair along and contently talking with the other two.

Cami gave Oliver a dramatic look. "We won’t survive if we’re too dependent on our elders, we must learn to explore and grow, ON OUR OWN!"

He gave a long sigh. “The school is enormous and I don't want to be late on the first day,”

"And if you act like a grumpy stick this whole tour I'll sharpie your forehead," She threatened.

He backed up slightly at that. Cami took a sharpie out of her bag and waved it towards him in threat. He scowled and stepped behind Hazel who was looking at the classroom signs.

The crowd had slowed slightly, they could barely hear Laci speaking. However, a pleasant ringtone was loud and clear over her speaker before she spoke louder.

“I’m sorry, I just got an important call I really need to take. Charisse please wait and handle this?” She quickly passed the mic to her before disappearing into what appeared to be another classroom.

Cami looked at all the doors and read all the name tags for teachers. "There's the mean geo teacher's room,"

Unbeknownst to our dear students, some of their more interesting teachers were passing through. Adair, the chemistry teacher who has “wasted” talent, saw Thryver, the Acchian faun, sneaking up on the back of the crowd; he already saw where this was going.

"Y'know I really think we should repaint the gym to help bring out motivation." The gym teacher was still prattling on to the astronomy teacher who was clearly not interested, nor paying attention.

Simone glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. Thryver. “Uh oh,” She whispered, grinning.

Adair looked like he was suffering, watching Thryver and side eyeing Watton, one of the gym teachers. He was already beginning to rub his temples. The teacher group made an interesting lot, Adair dressed in a nice button up, slacks, and a lab coat like most of the teachers wore; he looked the most orderly of them. Watton was wearing a tracksuit, with a whistle being the most notably different part of the outfit. The astronomy teacher looked like a more disheveled Adair. Thryver wore traditional Acchian robes. Dark blue wrapped around his torso and then opening and loosening into a skirt of sorts.

“VITE THA UN DOTELLA!” Thyver abruptly shouted startling the crowd.

Mia jumped a mile, Cami however turned around excited and waved looking for who said that. Jamie also jumped out of his skin at the shout. Ethan whipped around and Oliver may have been one of the people that screamed.

Charisse jerked and blinked. “And there's Mr. Thryver!”

“THAT MEANS HELLO AND WELCOME!” He continued loudly.

The gym teacher scanned the sea of freshman. "ARE THESE THE NEWBIES WE GET TO HAVE FUN WITH IN GYM CLASS?!"

Jamie frowned. "Oh dear the teacher sounds much too excited for gym class I think that girl was right,"

Adair groaned quietly then saw Simone. “And you’re here... Just when I thought the day couldn't get worse.”

“Good to see you too Mr. Adair!” She chimed with fake enthusiasm.

Oliver nodded at Jamie. A bit alarmed. Charisse waved the crowd of teachers.

The astronomy teacher scanned the crowd. "YES WELCOME, WE ARE VERY EXCITED TO WELCOME YOU TO OUR SCHOOL, ITS HISTORY IS QUITE THE CONSPIRACY!"

“Everybody that is Mr. Thryver who just yelled, he's our teacher for Acchian, the man in gym gear with too much energy is Mr. Watton and that enthusiast there is Mr. Lasmono, the astronomy teacher.” Charisse laughed over the speakers as she spoke. “And the man with a look of suffering is Mr. Adair, our loving and dear chemistry teacher,” She snickered.

"Oh don't be silly, our school was not built on any of the stuff you say it was," Mr. Watton laughed at Lasmono.

"Do we know that?" He asked, before answering himself. "No,"

Simone leaned over. “Hey, we may be on an ancient burial ground,”

Jeremy shook his head at them.

Cami nodded interested in what the astronomy teacher had to say. "He has a point though,"

Jamie facepalmed.

Hazel adjusted her glasses. “Actually it’s believed is placed around what would’ve been mid-world’s Thailand, so technically what we have would be Indian burial grounds,”

"ARE YOU KIDS READY FOR SOME HEALTHY TEAM BONDING THIS SUMMER? ALSO IF YOUR INTERESTED IN GETTING YOUR SCHOOL SPIRIT ON I HAVE SIGN UPS READY ON THE SCHOOL WEBSITE FOR CHEERLEADING!" The gym teacher continued. The crowd wasn’t very responsive.

Simone rolled her eyes at his hyperactivity.

The girl in headphones watched the teacher with immense confusion, she couldn't read his lips very well.

Jamie shook his head. "Last time someone said team bonding it meant dodgeball,” He sighed "That's not healthy,"

“Agreed,” Oliver nodded.

The sound of the mic shifting and Laci speaking grabbed the group’s attention yet again.

“Hello, so sorry I had to answer that... ah...” She looked stiffer than before. “I see some teachers have joined us? How are you all this morning?”

"I’M FEELING GREAT!" Watton cheered.

"I’d feel better if the government wasn't lurking to be honest," Lasmono mumbled.

“I’m well, miss Laci I hope you and your friend is too?” Thryver singsonged.

Adair’s expression answered her question.

Laci stiffened mildly. “I’m alright... I’ll chat later, you know uh- schedule and what not!” She awkwardly motioned for them to continue moving, attempting to maintain her previous enthusiasm.

Mia’s expression shifted to concern. “Is she alright?”

Jamie slowly shook his head again. "I would guess no… She looks worried."

Hazel nodded a bit at that.

Cami chucked a snickers bar in her direction. "Just in case," She explained.

Oliver winced as he saw it hit a random student.

"Cami, you can't just candy snipe strangers," Jamie groaned.

"It was for a good cause,"

“Maybe we should check on her after?” Mia gently suggested.

Hazel nodded. “She has to wait for everyone to leave first after all, it'd be hard to miss her,”

"Good plan," Cami agreed.

The tour had finally come to a close, students or soon to be students were all filing out the front gate. It was a little after noon and the heat was worse. The sun shined brightly just outside of the building’s entrance and waves of the heat made it in as the doors stayed mostly open. Laci stood to the left of the building entrance, waving at anyone that looked her way or answering a few final questions. Cami signaled the rest of the group when she spotted Laci through the sea of heads. "C’mon let's check on her before we get pushed out by the hoard!" Mia almost jumped Ethan in attempts to stay with the group.

“Hey, I’m not a ride!” He huffed but helped support her weight, annoyed. Cami started to weave between people like a little rabbit, Jamie awkwardly tried to follow her but was nowhere near as fast.

"I think Cami has a sixth sense that makes her fast," Jamie mumbled to the others, "Or the candy.."

"Probably the candy and a sixth sense,“ Hazel concluded.

Oliver pressed through till they managed to break from the crowd, now out in the open space Laci stood in. Cami waved to her. "Hi! Great job on the tour by the way!" Laci turned and pulled another strained smile. “Thank you, glad to help! I hope you’re all looking forward to your first year here.” She slightly pushed her bangs to the side. Briefly checking her phone before it went back down to her side. "Although, we did notice earlier you seemed kinda stressed so we wanted to ask if everything was ok?" Jamie added onto Cami's comment. Cami nodded and dug around in her purse for another snickers bar. "I tried to throw this at you but it hit someone else instead..." Her eyes widened slightly and she stiffened. Mia stepped forward as well. “We just figured we would check on you?” She gave another concerned look. The brunette looked a bit surprised but thankful. “Ah... Was it that obvious?” She tugged at her button up’s collar. "Maybe we’re just super observant," Cami shrugged.

Jamie was going to say something but Cami did focus on details sometimes so he stayed quiet. Cami handed Laci a slightly squished handful of various fun-sized candies and a smiley face sticker. "The sticker is for a good job," Laci looked a tad confused but nodded her thanks. “So... Is everything alright?” Hazel quirked her head. Laci shuffled briefly to put away the candy before sighing. “To be honest, no. Not at all,” She checked her phone again. "Is there anything we can do to help..?" Jamie asked hesitant. He wondered what kind of situation it was, he was afraid of seeming nosey though and wondered if they should even be asking. Cami rocked back and forth and glanced at Laci's phone, trying to see if she had an interesting case for it. It was a plain light purple. She had put the sticker on the back of it.

“Not unless you’re miracle workers,” She sighed.

Hazel awkwardly glanced at the others before Laci elaborated.

“My.. my childhood friend is in the hospital.. he’s... he’s not doing very well...” Her voice shook slightly, a deep breath and she tried to steady herself. “And it's getting worse..” Cami's face fell, she dug in her purse again for a second but stopped and said nothing for a bit.

Jamie looked awkwardly at the ground thinking they possibly made her feel worse. He thought of his Mom though and spoke up softly. "...Does he like any deserts..? Can we bring you or him anything..?" Laci jumped slightly. “W-well uhh, he likes lemon bread? It's been a while. The medicines he's on... but...” She smiled a bit. “I think that'd make his day...”

Simone had wandered up, catching the tail end of her sentence. Jamie nodded slowly "I think I can try that..yeah.." "Is there anything you like specifically?" "What's his favorite color?" Cami asked following Jamie's train of thought. "Hmm.. lime cupcakes.” She smiled a bit fondly. “And he likes purple a lot.”  She looked calmer at the implications this was giving. Cami smiled. "Purple, I can work with this," Jamie took notes quietly on his phone. "Is there any way we can reach you to give you some food and stuff..?" Simone eyed them briefly. “Wyatt ok?” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. Laci jumped again. “Oh- oh he’s... He's been better, the doctors couldn't get a hold of his parents and he... heart... stopped... for a - yeah.” She swallowed and nodded stiffly again. Simone scrunched her nose. “Then what are you doing here? Council head or not he's your best friend,” She made shooing motion. Laci sighed. “I can't just-“ "I’ll handle it,” Simone interrupted. "Wait," Jamie interrupted.   "What... Simone you hate socializing,” She raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll get over it, go on.” She waved again. "WAIT I CAN'T GIVE YOU FOOD UNLESS I CONTACT YOU." He interrupted loudly and a bit distressedly. Laci stopped. “Right right, uhhh here.” She pulled out some note paper, tearing a corner off she wrote out a number quickly. “Here, thank you! And thank you Simone I owe you!” She squeezed Simone in a short hug that the raven haired girl cringed at.

"Thank you, now indeed you should go." Jamie pocketed it. "We should have some stuff for you in a couple of days." "Yeah yeah, listen to them and get out of here,” Simone laughed.

Laci bowed a final thanks, practically sprinting out.

Cami gave him a look. "I can put stuff together in hours man," Jamie sighed. "BAKING IS AN ART FORM THAT CAN’T BE RUSHED!!" Cami frowned. "Don't yell at me there's people here now," "If they go to school with us they will see me yelling at your shenanigans again," Simone moved to stand where Laci had been, occasionally answering questions. Cami rolled her eyes and turned to Simone. "Hi!" Simone nodded at Cami. “Questions or just being friendly?” Mia smiled slightly. “That was really sweet, just a moment ago,” She shrugged. “Just human decency,” "Still good," Cami agreed. "And just being friendly." She bounced a little. ‘She's very friendly," Jamie said, Cami couldn't tell how he meant that so she didn't mind it. Simone nodded slightly, watching the crowd, Charisse was on the other side of the crowd that was now thinning out finally. "We saw you pushing your friend around earlier, do you do go karts as a hobby or something because you steer well for sharp corners!" Cami continued bouncing as if she was listening to music. Jamie noticed she had one earbud in and leaned in. "Are you listening to the nyan cat theme?" "....No..." Ethan made a face at that. Simone rose an eyebrow but answered her. “I mostly hoverboard, but I’ve had a lot of practice weaving his chair around the last year too,” She explained. “Oh neat!" Cami exclaimed. "I've always wanted to try but this grump screams at me if I go too fast on a scooter even," "You wear roller skates while on the scooter to go faster," Jamie protested. Ethan lit up. “Didn’t we talk about me teaching you?” Oliver looked like he swallowed a lemon. Hazel looked a bit worried. "OH YEAH!" Cami grinned. "CAN WE GO NOW?" Mia’s enthusiasm seemed to strain even. Jamie looked at Ethan and shook his head. Cami put her hand on his face and nodded like a bobblehead. Ethan was bouncing a bit. “Our house is on the way, we could get our hoverboards and guards and go!” "YAAAY!!" Cami squealed, she handed Simone a sticker. "You did good on the tour too by the way!!"

"NOW LETS GO BEFORE OLIVER OR JAMIE STOP US!" Cami bounded towards the nearest exit at top speeds. Simone blinked, confused by the sticker, watching as the group all left rapidly. Jamie was stressing already wondering how he would explain to Rachel that Cami split her head open.

[jackieboywynand]

Uhhh, some fic ig

Clutching onto his worn crossbow, Jack cautiously edged towards an apartment. He heard a hauntingly familiar tune coming from within, beckoning him to enter. He held his breath as he slowly slid the door open. Upon entering, he immediately knew who had lived here. He was met with a small circular stage with a microphone on it, posters were placed up in pride around the entrance. The name on all of these posters struck a nervous chord from deep inside. Cohen. God, he thought he had escaped that lunatic. He hesitantly moved into the building and cursed his luck as his radio crackled, coming to life.

"I hear your wings flapping in my home..." Jack felt himself tense up. "Flip flap, flip flap, flip flap.", came the obnoxious voice. "Come into the light, little moth, come in..." He had hoped he had heard the last of Cohen back in Fort Frolic but that wasn't the case.

He began moving further into the house and flinched when he heard a loud, maniacal laugh coming from a woman somewhere within the apartment. He peered around the stage and poster to see a pair dancing. He assumed the female was the culprit for the laughter that set him on edge. They were dancing under a light which acted as a spotlight, shining upon them amongst the dimly light room. He tightened the grip on his crossbow as he drew nearer to the pair, careful not to trip over any of the piles of unfinished musical pieces and staves strewn about on the floor. He heard the male humming. It was nothing like the tune they were dancing to but it didn't stop them.

"I see you're still testing your wings, little moth." The unwanted voice sounded through the radio again. "Stay and enjoy the dance, if you wish..." Jack contemplated the offer. It was an almost surreal scene. He had only endured chaos and nightmares since being in this city and this peaceful scene was eerie and out of place. "But don't dare RATTLE. THEIR. RHYTHM." Cohen's voice grew louder, angrier and far more punctuated with each word that came through the radio. Jack chewed on his bloodied, lower lip. He heard the couple muttering to each other and whistling. It was hard for him to try and listen to their mumbling as the music grew ever louder. It was almost unbearable and it made it difficult to think. It was becoming deafening and Jack could feel himself growing agitated. His eyes kept going between the couple and the phonograph that was causing all this racket. He frowned. His eye twitched. It was too loud. Unwanted. A cacophony. He growled. The all too annoying whistling of the man was interrupted by the whistle of a bolt, before being followed by the noise of the bolt making itself home in the man's head and hurtling him towards the wall where it pinned him. An ear splitting scream erupts from the woman's lips as she had her partner ripped away from her. Angry, vicious words were spat out from her lips as she hurled a ball of flames towards Jack. She was quickly put down by another carefully aimed bolt to the head.

"WHEN WILL YOU EVER LEARN TO TAKE INSTRUCTION?", he heard Cohen shout over the radio. He was surprised that he could also faintly hear the voice from within the apartment. "I'M COMING DOWN THERE, LITTLE MOTH... COMING DOWN TO TEACH YOU. TO. DANCE." The radio cut after that and Jack could hear a door open. Next thing he knows, he's got fire balls hurtling towards him and a very angry Sander Cohen in the room with him. He heard the telltale sign of Houdini as Cohen blinked out of view to reposition himself to try and get the jump on Jack. He frowned and listened out for the sound that will tell him that Cohen has reappeared. The music is grating now. He shoots a bolt into the phonograph, effectively causing it to explode. This angers Cohen further as he reappears and immediately attacks Jack with his flames.

"I'M SANDER FUCKING COHEN."

Just like that, the pair begin their own dance. It's a dance of fire and malice as the two aim to kill. Jack, teeth gritted and brows knitted, fires a bolt that catches Cohen's arm. The man glares at Jack. He is fuming. He hurls as many fire balls as he can muster at Jack before disappearing again.

Jack prepared himself for the next volley of fireballs. He readied himself and listened out for the telltale sound of Cohen coming to attack. He spun on his heels as he heard Cohen re-emerge behind him. A painful hiss left him as a fireball singed his body. He immediately fired back at Cohen, enraged. Jack swapped over to steel tip bolts and began during at the manic man in front of him. He caught his shoulder and felt a smug satisfaction as Cohen stumbled back from the impact and pain. Their battle continued like this for what felt like ages for Jack. He was getting low on ammunition. He looked up at Cohen and noticed the bolts, glistening with crimson, decorating Cohen like a hedgehog. How the hell this son of a bitch was still alive? He didn't know. He lunged forward and yanked out one of his bolts from Cohen, watching the blood pour out of the wound as he did. He quickly reloaded the bolt into his crossbow and fired it back at Cohen.

Jack was getting annoyed. Frustrated. He was using up far too much ammunition that he was saving to murder the bastard that had used him. Chewed him up and spat him out. Jack wasn't anyone's plaything. Frank. Fucking. Fontaine. Jack tossed his crossbow to the side and immediately felt a chilling cool spread through his left hand. He didn't need to see the blades of ice sticking out of him before he began assaulting Cohen. He didn't stop until Cohen was just as frozen as Jack had been when hunting down Cohen's disciples and doing his dirty work. He watched as Cohen slowed down and froze up. He approached the man, wrench in hand. He raised his weapon and slammed it down across Cohen's head. He listened to the sick sound of the ice crunching and the head being moulded into a new shape. He kept hammering down on the artist. He let his rage take over him. Cohen. Fontaine. Ryan. Fucking Rapture. It pissed him off. It angered him and when Cohen thawed and collapsed to the floor, he didn't care that he fell down with him. Nor did he notice that he had changed his wrench for his bare fists. Only did he realise when his fists grew numb, caked in blood, and when Cohen's face was no longer recognisable. His sweater was now a brownish-red and his face and hair had flecks of blood covering them. There was a buzzing in his ears. He looked down at the body beneath him and just stared. He had lost himself again. He sighed. Mentally gave himself a slap on the wrist. He picked himself up from off Cohen and went back to gather up his weapons that he had haphazardly thrown about the room during his fit of rage. He began go leave but not before he noticed the door to Cohen's room was wide open. His curiosity was piqued.

Jack saw a pink glow bathing the room and leaking out into the rest of the apartment. He entered the room, clenching his wrench. Upon first glance, he was met with a long staircase and so he began to ascend. As he reached the top of the staircase, Jack noticed more of the plastered "sculptures" that had been littered throughout Fort Frolic. He paled at remembering the moving, attacking statues. He closed his eyes and exhaled when he saw two giant plastered rabbit masks at the foot of a king-sized bed in front of him. Cohen was really into rabbit symbolism for someone that "wanted to take the ears off". What a nutter. Jack shook his head. As he observed the room further, he noticed large framed posters and bottles of alcohol strewn about the room. He thought to himself that Cohen truly was married and obsessed with his work. Jack turned around and saw a doorway leading into another room. He walked through, wrench at the ready.

Through a thin veil of steam, Jack saw numerous sinks lining up against a wall on the left, a glass divider in the middle of the room, and a porcelain bath which was on elevated ground. Jack noticed something whilst walking past the bath. He stopped and turned to inspect it. To his horror, it was yet another sculpture. He gave it a hesitant whack with his wrench; sighing when some blood splattered but the sculpture remained still. He slowly inched backwards, still anxious about the sculpture despite his confirmation on it being a corpse.

When Jack next turned around after exiting the bathroom, he came face-to-face with a Power To The People machine and thanked his lucky stars. His anxiety began to melt away. He always enjoyed working on his weapons. They were his babies and they deserved the best. He really wished there was an option to upgrade his wrench; his first and favourite child. He grabbed his trusty crossbow and selected the option to give it increased damage. He leant over the work station and got to work, applying the new piece. His tongue stuck out a little as he concentrated on perfecting his crossbow. He wondered whether he should even attempt to make his wrench rocket propelled for when he murdered the son of a bitch that dragged him into all of this. He scowled at the name written up in the machine in front of him, feeling repulsed. The bastard was everywhere. There was no escape. It was driving Jack beyond mad. He tried his hardest to busy himself in his work to prove himself a distraction.

Jack took a step back to admire his hard work. He was happy with this newest addition! He turned from the machine with a grin on his face, placing the crossbow back where he had placed a holder for the weapon. He began to head towards the door when his radio crackled and came to life as a voice came through. One he really didn't want to hear.

"Hate to see you this way, kid." The Bronx accent filled him with dread. "Hell, I was there when you were born." His expression soured. "You ever have a dog you gotta put down?" Jack scowled. Was he seriously being compared to a dog? "Breaks your heart." The radio cut off as Jack's week h went hurtling across the room, shattering a sculpture upon impact. How DARE Fontaine talk about heartbreak?! What the he'll did he know about having a broken heart?! Jack glared down at the floor as his vision began to blur. He tried to blink away his tears but they still began to roll down his face. He clenched his fists. The hot tears mixed with the dried blood on his gaunt cheeks. He let out a shudder and collapsed to the floor. Fontaine had no right! Jack still felt his anger through his sobs. He wasn't born! He was created! A scientific experiment that was sold off. Fontaine bought him for top fucking dollar just as a means to thwart the plans of Jack's biological 'father'. It was petty. Ryan was an unwilling donor who didn't know- hell, he probably didn't even want a child. Jack was a genetically modified freak and heir to the damn throne of this hellhole. Jack hated the purpose of his existence. He hated snapping that puppy's neck. Of course he knew what it was like to put down a dog. He bet Fontaine knew he had to involuntarily put down that sweet, innocent puppy. The sick fuck. Jack's face was soaked with fat tears that had turned a slight, pale crimson from the blood dried onto his face. His sobs were loud and echoed within the suite. Jack choked. How dare Fontaine have the sheer nerve and audacity to call Jack a kid? After everything they had gone through? It made Jack sick, right down to his very core.

He gazed around the room. Nothing really mattered to him anymore in his solemn state. Through his tears he saw the bottles of alcohol that were laying about the room. He wanted to forget his worries and troubles. He made a pathetic attempt to crawl over to the bottles. He picked one up and opened it, shaking. His body was still racking from tears. He desperately chugged the liquid before grabbing the next bottle. He grabbed another bottle and began pouring it down his throat. He chugged and he chugged. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. He didn't matter. His only function now was to down as many bottles as possible and hopefully, he would soon die. Pass out, at least. He didn't know how much he had drunk when he found himself nursing a bottle and spilling confessions to the sculptures in the room. He confided in them and told them all his problems and secrets. He kept necking bottles as he did. He found himself accompanied by piles of empty bottles. His vision was blurred. His head was fuzzy. He was stumbling over his words. Slurring. Everything was buzzing. The room spun. His mind blanked. He was soon met with unconsciousness.

[yourobedientslytherin]

The Upper Hand: Jefferson x Reader {Part 3}

Part 1 | Part 2

Hamilton - Modern AU (Law School) 

Jefferson x Reader

2404 words

Hey, guys! I just wanted to say wow I can’t believe people are actually reading this and, even more shocking, you actually like it! I’m having a blast writing this and the feedback I’ve been getting is super awesome. I hope you enjoy part 3!

With a groan Thomas throws the pen on his desk and rubs his eyes, cursing Y/N and her ambitious, overworking, 110% effort personality. The pressure she is putting on him combined with his other classload is starting to get to him. The two had had a total of four meetings after that first one, and each time she reminded him how much this project was worth and the amount of effort he needed to put into it (he can recite her inspiring (in her opinion) speech with her at this point). Doesn’t she know that he already puts a lot of pressure on himself in his studies? He didn’t become the second-ranked student in their class of 500 by smoking joints and partying all weekend or playing hacky sack or whatever she thinks he does in his spare time.

Her accidental admission of her class ranking had surprised him. He always assumed that she was average, maybe slightly above, that Hammy or one of the other HamilDorks helped her with her homework. Perhaps Thomas could find it in him to respect her enough to accept her suggestions and opinions about their project. She had definitely shown him that she was worth her salt by correcting his misinterpretation of a statute and quoting several laws and precedented cases from memory, which all helped strengthen their defense. One of the HamilDorks is actually useful—surprise!

He groans again just as James walks past his open door. His best friend/roommate lets out a chuckle and leans against the doorframe.

“Having problems?”

Thomas throws another pen against the wall over his desk, disappointed that it didn’t puncture a hole in the wall. “Yup.”

“Let me guess,” James says. “The little milkmaid from Kansas made another schedule for your case?”

For some odd reason, James’ condescending tone creates a little tickle of irritation in Thomas’ chest. His mind conjures an image of Y/N pulling her hair into a ponytail as she leans over her notes, her teeth working her rose-colored bottom lip as she concentrates. “She’s from Nebraska, James.”

“Does it matter?” he scoffs. “I think she needs to pull that stick out of her ass and relax. You’re top in the class. You’ll get it done no problem.”

Thomas clenches his fist and struggles to keep his voice even. “Perhaps you should focus on starting your own project, James. You know Hercules Mulligan isn’t going to be much help.”

He doesn’t see James furrow his eyebrows in thought, wondering why he is suddenly defending Y/N instead of joining in on making fun of her.

“You’re right,” James mutters after a pregnant pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with her tonight?”

In a panic, Thomas checks his watch, realizing that he’s lost track of time. It’s already eight. “Oh, shit!” he yells, hurriedly gathering his case papers and defense notes and shoving them into his bag. James thoughtfully observes Thomas as he quickly grabs a jacket and pulls on his shoes. His friend pauses in front of the mirror, runs a hand over his shortly cropped beard, and swats at a few rogue curls.

Thomas pushes past his roommate and jogs to the door, pulling it open hurriedly when his phone rings. He answers it, standing in the doorway to their two-bedroom apartment. His eyebrows meet in a frown as he listens to the person on the other end.

“What? The library is closed? Why? … Water pipe maintenance? Sounds like a bunch of—sorry… Uh, I don’t know where else to go. A lot of the local restaurants close at nine, so that would only give us an hour of work… Yeah, I know we need to keep on schedule.”

James appears in Thomas’ peripheral vision and clears his throat to grab Thomas’ attention. “I’m going to Aaron Burr’s for the evening to study for the Theories of Civil Law exam tomorrow,” he announces.

Thomas nods, his face brightening just enough for James to notice. “Okay, how about we work at my place? Madison is gone for the evening so he won’t distract us… Perfect! Let me give you the address…”

“This is where you live?” you ask, following Jefferson into the living room. “This is so…normal.”  

He laughs and motions for you to sit on either of the mismatched  couches (one dark brown leather, the other a god-awful blue and green plaid—you choose the leather). On the light wood coffee table are pens, pencils, and highlighters, along with a variety of sweating unopened root beer and orange soda cans. The perpendicular couches face a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Under the TV is a long thin table with what looks like an XBOX, a Wii, and two ugly red and black striped vases.

“What did you expect?” he asks, smirking. “Designer décor? An open floor plan with hardwood floors? A bear skin rug? A roaring fireplace and a wet bar? Four-car garage?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I heard you lived in France for a couple of years, so maybe baguettes and wine? Miniature Eiffel Tower sculptures?”

“Actually, these—” he gestures to the two red and black vases under the TV— “did come from France. What do you think?” he asks excitedly.

Should you tell him your real opinion or lie through your teeth? He looks so innocently happy, like a kid who made a picture frame made of macaroni noodles for their parent. You can’t squash on that kind of pure, unadulterated pride.

“They’re very nice,” you say politely.

“You hate them.” He shrugs. “You’re from Nebraska. What do you know about taste?”

Instead of yelling at him for insulting you and your home state like you would have a week ago, you laugh. Your amiability shocks both of you, and your laughter quickly dies on your lips. Awkward silence. He shoves one hand into his jeans pockets and rubs the back of his neck with the other. You smooth your skirt and lick your lips, looking anywhere but at him or his red French vases.

“So…” Jefferson finally breaks the silence. “I think we have everything we need here. Help yourself to a soda. Unless you want something else to drink?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no thanks. This is fine.”

“Okay. Let’s get to work.” He takes a seat on the other couch and spreads out his defense notes.

The two of you alternately bounce ideas off each other and work in silence for the next hour. You discovered that sitting on the carpeted floor and using the coffee table as a desk is more comfortable than leaning over it while sitting on the couch around the twenty minute mark. He realized that chugging two root beers and one orange soda leads to a lot of bathroom breaks halfway through the orange soda. You both found out that listening to a classical study mix on Pandora through his TV increased productivity after he yelled at you for humming an obnoxious popular hip-hop song you’d listened to on the way over.

“Do you have any more pieces of paper?” you ask after an hour of note-taking and paging through your textbooks.

He looks over the table as if he expects it to be there, frowning when he doesn’t see any. “I thought I brought some out…”

“All I see are pens and highlighters here.”

“I have some paper in my room.” He pulls his long legs out from under the coffee table and stands, groaning as he stretches his muscles. “Ahhh, man, you should really get up and stretch. We’ve been sitting too long.”

He disappears down the hall toward his and Madison’s rooms as you push yourself to your feet, echoing his groans. You start walking, slowly, across the living room floor, stepping over books and your backpack and your shoes, when you hear a crash and Jefferson’s strangled yelp. It sounded like a rainstorm.

Curious and concerned, you follow the sound of his cursing down the hall and into the bedroom on the left. You clap a hand over your mouth as you try to stop the laughter at the scene in his room. Jefferson glares at you, lying prostrate on the floor, partially buried under an avalanche of hundreds of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese. His closet door reveals another hundred identical boxes stacked on high shelves.

“What on earth…” You shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you try to hold in your laughter. “I have so many questions.”

He curses again and sits up, pushing macaroni boxes off of him. “I can’t believe my precious betrayed me..” he murmurs breathlessly.

“Okay, first question. Why do you have so much boxed mac ‘n’ cheese? This is really unhealthy.”

“Um, excuse you?” Jefferson leaps to his feet, indignant, and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. He reminds you of Washington when he gets really passionate during a lecture.

“Macaroni and cheese is the food of the gods. This is the perfect food for any occasion—birthday, Christmas, christenings, job interviews, bad days, good days, you name it! It should be everyone’s comfort food. It’s cheesy goodness with soft pasta, carbs and dairy, so it’s totally healthy. It’s easy to make—takes less than fifteen minutes. Plus, I memorized the directions so I don’t even have to look at the box. Are you impressed yet?”

“You are insane.” You look over the boxes in disbelief. “How much did this all cost?”

“I buy it in bulk, so less than you think.” His smile widens as he nods eagerly.

“Why was it in your closet?”

“Not enough room in the kitchen cupboards. Madison hates it anyway, so he told me to keep it out of his sight. I have another box of boxes under my bed, too.”

You suddenly realize that you are standing in his bedroom. You take in the décor, the grey-and-white-striped comforter on the bed, the magenta throw pillow, the Eiffel Tower poster hung over his side table, the bookshelf full of books (lots about France and one curiously titled The Miracle of Macaroni and Cheese: Variations of the Best Comfort Food), the desk in the corner strewn with textbooks, papers, and writing utensils. Above his desk handwritten notes, printed quotes, and pictures have been taped or tacked to the wall.

“That’s my Wall of Inspiration,” he says, and you realize he’s been watching you as you look around his room. You take a step closer and read quotes about success and hard work from Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Steve Jobs before finding one printed on magenta paper in a large, fancy script:  

Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude.

That’s really true, you think, wondering who wrote it. You read the author’s name in smaller print under the quote:

--Thomas Jefferson

“Ha! You quoted yourself on your Wall of Inspiration? That’s a lot of ego, Jefferson.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.”

You shake your head at him reproachfully but you can’t knock the satisfied smirk off his face. His inflated sense of self makes you want to slap him but you also kind of admire him for it. He believes in himself and his abilities. He is comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t care about what other people think about him, which is evident by the magenta T-shirt with the words Qu’est-ce que j’ai raté? You find yourself secretly wishing that you had half the confidence he had.

Beside his quote on the Wall of Inspiration is a picture of Jefferson and a pretty girl with long curly hair and sunkissed skin. She is smiling at the camera, her nose crinkling cutely as Jefferson kisses her cheek. His girlfriend, you realize. You feel the smile on your face fade.

“That’s a cute picture,” you say, trying to act normal. “Who is she?”

His eyebrows move closer together as he follows your finger to the picture. “Oh, that’s Martha,” he says tersely, as if that answers your question. Technically it does, but it also produces more questions. Is she his girlfriend? Are they broken up? Why is she still on the wall? Is she around? Why haven’t you seen her around?

Wait, it’s none of your business, why do you care? It’s not like you like Jefferson. He’s an insufferable, overconfident jerk who wears too much magenta and has insulted you too many times for you to ever like him as anything more than a classmate. That’s what you two are—classmates and partners on a school project. That’s it. There’s no way you could ever be attracted to him.

Almost as though he had heard your inner monologue, Jefferson bends down to begin picking up the boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese strewn across his floor. His jeans tighten around his ass, giving you a front-row view of how round and—for lack of a better word—perfect it is. You can see the muscles in his back as his magenta shirt stretches with his reach. How had you never noticed how fit he was? It was as if someone had given you glasses that suddenly cleared up your vision so you could notice small details that you hadn’t before. Like the swell of his biceps as he lifts a big cardboard box full of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese back onto the top shelf of his closet. You’ve always been an arm girl, you admit to yourself as you admire his toned muscles.

He glances over his shoulder at you and smirks as if he can read your thoughts. You shake your head hard, clearing your mind.

“We should probably get back to work,” Jefferson says, holding out a blank yellow legal pad.

You nod dumbly and take the pad from him, cursing your face as it betrays you with a deep blush. The blood makes your face hot and pounds in your ears as you follow him back to the living room. You fan yourself with the pad when he isn’t looking. Now you can’t help but watch his muscles as he sits back down, his back against the plaid couch and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Shit, you think. This can’t be good.