never convinced [open]

[GARRETT EDWARD MARCHEL]

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Garrett had no clue what in the hell he was doing. Loud music blared around him, bodies pressed up against him on all sides. A few started rubbing against him in a most provocative way. As attractive as some of these girls were, he wasn’t quite in the mood. He had come here with another of the Thunders, a guy whose name slipped Garrett’s mind at the moment. But as soon as they had arrived, the other Thunder had vanished into the crowd. Garrett had caught sight of the guy once or twice, usually with his arms around girls, or his hands on their hips, once with a drink that looked suspiciously like alcohol in his hand. Garrett didn’t much care what the guy did, it was his own business, but he would have appreciated a little bit of company. He had kind of hoped to be the guy’s wingman, or something. Wasn’t that usually how it worked? Garrett wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew he was a good looking guy. He could get a good number of these girls, if he tried hard enough. But apparently he just wasn’t wingman material, at least not to this guy.

Garrett leaned back against a table, his arms across his chest as his eyes bounced around the scene. Most people were dancing, or drinking, or both. A few of the girls seemed to be lacking vital articles of clothing, or perhaps they had intended to wear only swimsuits and leggings. Garrett couldn’t muster much respect for those types, the ones who were so free with their bodies. He wasn’t opposed to getting physical – well, no that was a lie. He usually avoided it because whatever horny feelings girls got when they started touching him, they were never true, never lasting. But he wasn’t a prude either, he just wasn’t a one night stand – lets rub genitals – kind of guy. He glanced around, skimming the crowd. His eyes landed on one girl in particular, standing quite close actually. She was pretty, though in the dim light he couldn’t tell if she was pretty, beautiful, or stunning. She was standing with her arms crossed, mirroring his. As he looked, she seemed to notice him, and smiled. He smiled back. This was the kind of interaction he was up for, honest conversation, honest interest, a first name basis.

“Hey” She nodded to him. He turned slightly to face her, still leaning against the back table, though his arms were uncrossed now and resting lazily on the table. “Hey,” He grinned at her. “I’d say something witty and charming, but my wingman seems to have ditched me.” He flashed her another laughing grin. He was about to say more, to introduce himself or something, but she interrupted him. “Wanna fuck?” Her manner was abrupt, no beating around the bush. Garrett straightened, his eyes wide. This wasn’t what he had intended, and he wasn’t sure quite how to laugh the situation off. He coughed nervously, though inside he was thinking awwww Shit He cleared his throat, still trying to smile in a “sorry I don’t want to sleep with you” kind of way. “I’m sure you’re a nice girl with…some morals” he ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t a first time thing for this chick. She had been around, and around, and around the block. Somehow, it kind of killed her previous prettiness. “But as much fun as contracting STD’s sounds, I think I’ll pass for tonight. ” He tried to laugh off the encounter, just waiting for when he could slink away.

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[RIDLEY EVANNA FREY]

we were born to break the doors down ,

There was nothing Ridley loved to do more, besides eating unhealthy amounts of food, (really she could eat as much as a pig) than dancing. Whether it was pulling some less than cool moves around her dorm room to some cheesy pop song or doing some winding and grinding with some hot guy at a party, she loved to let loose and move to the music. Her dad had nicknamed her his 'little ballerina', because even when she'd been in the crib she had been wriggling along to the sound of music. He'd even enrolled her in ballet classes when she'd been six years old, because she'd been too young to be out playing with her brothers and he'd needed a place to take her when he had to work extra shifts. She had paraded around in a tutu and ballet pumps for a good year, learning how to leap and twirl like a professional ballerina. Her interest in the dance waned over timed and around her seventh birthday she started to ditch rehearsals in favor of climbing trees and playing hide and seek in the woods with her big brothers. But even though her passion for ballet had faded, she still loved to dance. So the second she'd arrived at the party she'd headed straight for the dance floor.

Drink in hand, Ridley winded her hips to the music, throwing her arms up into the air and singing along with the words whenever a song she liked came on. She was passing tipsy now, well on her way to the Land of Drunk, where every guy looked hot and nothing really mattered as long as she was having fun. And she was. A part of her wished that her Felix and Jay were here too but she was too lost in the moment, having too much of a good time alone, to truly care. Bodies swarmed around her as she danced alone in a sea of barely clad, sweaty flesh. Every now and then she was joined by a guy or two. They would grab at her waist and thrust their hips at her like they wanted something more than just to dance. They probably did but she was hardly going to give it to them. Even when one particularly cute guy had leaned in close to whisper in her ear, asking her to come over to the back of the club, she'd simply smiled and wagged her finger at him, a silent 'no' to his offer. She wasn't looking to hook up with anyone, not now that she was in a relationship. So when the same guy came over again, and stuck around, even after she'd given him the cold shoulder, she started to lose her cool.

The song spun out into something fast paced with a heavy beat so she decided to get another drink. Brushing her hair from her face, she silently breezed past the lurker, who admittedly, was starting to make her skin crawl, and began to push her way through the crowd. Halfway towards the bar she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the same guy was following. Stopping, she spun around on her heel and jabbed a finger against the guys chest when he stumbled to a halt before her. "Listen buddy, I'm flattered, but you are seriously starting to piss me off with this creepy stalker act. I'm not interested, Okay?" She raised her eyebrows at him, her expression serious and then spun on her heel and marched her way over to the makeshift bar.

She'd come over for more alcohol but now that she was there, looking at the drinks, she figured she should slow it down a little, so instead she grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. Unscrewing the cap she pressed the bottle to her lips and swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, taking that moment to scan the crowd. Lila and Johnny were around somewhere, probably off down by the ocean, getting up to things she'd rather not imagine. "Wanna fuck?" she snorted on her drink lightly overhearing the girl's brash question. "Classy." she breathed, taking another sip from her bottle, her eyes still on the dancing crowd. She turned then, ready to get herself a proper drink and head back to the dance floor when she heard a familiar voice speak, Garrett. Looking up with a smile, she was about to call out a hello when she spotted that he was talking with a girl, Emily wasn't it? Ridley wasn't sure but what she did know was that she had been the girl who had asked Garrett for sex. She knew this because Emily, or was it emma? was a notorious and shameless slut. Asking random guys for sex was the norm for her.

Ridley bit back on a smile at Garrett's reply and the awkward laugh that followed. A part of her was tempted to leave him be, let it play out to see how Emily or emma or whatever her name was, would react. But Garrett looked down right uncomfortable and leaving him alone with a preying slut was kind of cruel. Grabbing another bottle of water, Ridley crossed over to where Garrett was stood and squeezed her way in between the two, literally shouldering the other girl out of the way. "Hey babe," she grinned, handing him the spare bottle of water. "Emily!" she started, obnoxiously cheerful, as if the two girls were the closest of friends. "It's Elisa." the other girl scowled, clearly annoyed that Ridley had manhandled her away from her target. Ridley shrugged, waving it off. "You aren't hitting on my boyfriend, are you?" she pursed her lips and puckered her brows, frowning at Elisa like a mother frowning at a child.

(I hope you don't mind me snagging this <3)

[GARRETT EDWARD MARCHEL]

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Cowardice was a sad thing, a thing frowned upon and much mocked. Yet, it was also a thing so greatly misunderstood. He who had no fears had neither courage nor cowardice. But he who had the greatest fears, the greatest trials, and faced them the victor was the brave hero. Yet, this scenario failed to take into consideration those who had fears, but fears too great to be faced. What about when your fears haunted every step? You were expected to face what you could not rid yourself of. It stalked you in the night, then in the changing hours; and finally in every minute of your waking – and slumbering – life. It was one of the many failures of modern society, the lack of provisions for those too paralyzed to breath within the casing of their fears. Instead they were labeled the cowards, those doomed to look forever with desire upon the courageous. Yet it is never taken into consideration that perhaps it is they who are the courageous for simply rising from bed each morning to face a fresh day of terror. The world, was a sick place. One such person – one such coward – had lurked for moments in the background, leaning against the bar, searching for yet another escape. But this escape was not an escape from conflict, from war or feats of bravery. Instead this was an escape from a drunken whore. A feat no less difficult.

There was something almost downright endearing about the little drunk whore. Sometimes he looked at people (and because of his judgmental nature) couldn’t help wondering just what had happened to them. Was she abandoned by her daddy? Or perhaps worse, she had been sexually abused or something and was trying to erase the memory with repeated sex. Or, more likely, she was very simply a girl with incredibly low self-esteem. Whatever the reasons, Garrett wasn’t particularly eager to get himself involved. He wasn’t the type of guy who’d take advantage of a girl like this, be just another tally on a never-ending list. And she wasn’t taking rejection so well. He hadn’t entirely expected her to. He fished in his pocket, pulling out a condom (his dad told him to carry them, “just in case”). He pressed it into her hand with another charming, if patronizing, grin. “Be safe.” And somehow, as if summoned by the appearance of a condom, or perhaps by Garrett’s good looks, another woman arrived.

She draped herself over him. His first instinct was to gently back away, but he recognized the voice quickly. His grin widened and he quirked a brow high over his eyes. So he was the fancy boyfriend was he now? Well he was going to play the part. It wasn’t often he got a chance like this. He slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her close. “Babe you finally showed.” He lowered his voice, though purposefully kept it loud enough that little miss drunk whore would hear. “Did you wear that cute little ensemble you know I love?” He leaned in as if to nuzzle her neck or plant a few suggestive kisses. Though in actuality he whispered in her ear “Thank god for timing. All you can eat buffet, my treat?” He knew Ridley better than most. And he definitely knew that the way to pay her back for this little rescue was to tote her off to somewhere where she could eat until she physically couldn’t anymore. And in all honesty, eating until they were sick sounded much more pleasant than being stalked by hopeful hook-ups.

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