Saturday, November 6, 2010

Dabria Cipriano

Dabria Cipriano


 . . . is  Patch's little sister. She's only sixteen but is a hell of a lot of trouble and outspoken when it comes to her thoughts. She can be rude and snarky but it's only because of the loss of her parents.


Age:
16
Skin:
Mediterranean
Eyes:
Green
Hair:
Black; Silky
Occupation:
Student
Mother:
Deborah Cipriano(Deceased)
Father:
Julian Cipriano (Deceased)
Relationship:
N/A
Nicknames:
Dee (Patch)


Bio:



When she was 10 she lost her parents to a tragic car accident and has been distant since. She hates being told what to do and normally shuts herself up in her room with the music blasted up to the roof. 


Skills:


Relationships:

Study Date With Patch

Where's your gavel? Your jury?
What's my offense this time?
You're not a judge but if you're gonna judge me
Well, sentence me to another life
Don't wanna hear your sad songs
I don't wanna feel your pain
When you swear it's all my fault
'Cause you know we're not the same
No, we're not the same, oh, we're not the same
—Paramore (Ignorance)

An annoying blaring sound echoed through my ears til I finally gave in to my conscious. Peeling my lids apart, I searched for the source of the frigging noise and realized it was my alarm clock. I groggily slammed my fist on the snooze button until it shut-up.
     "What time is it?" Vee asked, her face buried in her pillow.
     Time? I forced my eyes to glance at the time and groaned. I rolled out of bed, using the bedside table between us to capture my balance. I waited for the sudden head rush to pass before I flung my pillow at her head.
     "We're late," I groaned.
     Vee's head snapped up, a disarray of golden locks draping over her face, because she had to see for herself.
     "Crap!" she groaned and jumped out of bed. We didn't bother with a shower but instead sprayed half a bottle of Victoria Secret body spray and used their scented lotion to mask our lack of morning hygiene. (But I did brush my teeth.) I tossed on the jeans I had discarded at the foot of my bed last night and pulled on a striped sweater. Even though I couldn't get my hair the way I wanted it, I just settled for the frizzy half-up, half-down hairdo.
     I could deal with my hair later.
Vee and I parted ways without so much as a goodbye to another, rushing off to our separate buildings across campus. I managed to creep into class, but not without Coach glaring at me as I did. I sunk in my seat and tried to stay hidden for the rest of the time being. I took my notes, picking up on what Coach was saying, like always and handed in my essay at the end of class but everything felt different.
     Then Patch stopped me and I remembered our study date.
     For some reason my insides fluttered. "Planning on bailing on me again?" he smirked.
     "Uh, no," I muttered uncertainly.
     "Just, hold on a sec, alright? I've gotta talk to coach, then I'm all yours."
     I grinned. I liked the sound of that. "Okay,I'll just wait out in the hall,"
     I was walking down the main hall, contemplating what a session with Patch would be like, when suddenly I was yanked into a supply closet on my left. I didn't even have a chance to react before a click sounded and a light flooded the closet with a dim glow.
     "Oh—god!" I gasped in horror at the site of Marcie crying. My hands found my mouth as my eyes widened like saucers. I had never seen Marcie look so . . . wrecked? Her heavy mascara was streaming down her red cheeks like tar or gasoline or something. Her face was inflamed from crying so much and her hair was pretty unruly. She was sitting with her hands in her hair, sitting on a bucket. "Someone shut the lights back off,"
     "Shut-up," she cried, dropping her head back into her stained hands. The only trace of the Marcie I knew and despised, was left in her cold, beady little eyes.
     "Marcie—you're crying," I said awkwardly, quite unsure of what I was really doing here. I had nothing to say; I was utterly lost.
     Her head snapped up and her glare flared. "Thank you agent obvious."
     I glanced around the janitors closet. Towel, toilet papers, crusty looking mirror. "What are we doing here?" More importantly, what was I doing here? Shouldn't she be crying to someone she cries or venting her diary or something. I was pretty sure I was the last person she'd come to for a shoulder to cry on. This girl humiliated me since I got here and she expected me to listen to her sob story.
     This was just weird.
     "I don't want anyone to see me," she sniffed. And of course I count as a no one.
     We were quiet for a moment—well, as quiet as it went with Marcie sobbing hysterically, until I finally spoke. "Are you going to tell me why you're crying?"
     "Patch dumped me!" she let out another squealing sob. "And I don't know why! I fucking hot, and savvy, and a frigging cheerleader. I mean look at the new uniform. I look amazing! Everyone wants me—what's wrong with him!" She broke into another ridiculous sob, more ink flowing down her cheeks.
     "Don't you guys break up like every other day?" I mused.
     "This was for real! He said some shit about episodes and my insecure drama, whatever that means."
     "Mar—Marcie, I have no idea what to say here," I said. "Why am I even here?"
     She jumped to her feet and poked at my chest. "Because I know you had something to do with this, you—you tramp!"
     Tramp? Wow, thatthat just sucked.
     I rubbed at my chest. Why were her nails so long for?
     "Me?" I cringed. Okay, yes I did point out that they were a hot and cold couple but it's not like I actually influenced there actual break-up. But as I feared, Marcie was going after me for something I had remotely anything to do with. "I did nothing—don't hurt me,"
     I was expecting her to go for a wad of curls when she sniffed and sunk back down onto the dirty bucket. "I'm not gonna hurt you," she murmured and blew her snot filled nose into one of the toilet paper rolls.
     "You're not?"
     "If I did, than who else would help me get him back?" she said as if it explained why boys were so weird. "And if you don't, I'll see to it that the rest of your days C.U. will be pure hell." she added grimly, her eyes scorching into mine.
     Well this isn't good.
     Marcie scowled.
     "What are you still doing in here? Go! Go!" She snapped, chucking the roll of toilet paper she was using to wipe her face at my head. Like I needed her permission.
     I made to leave but before I did, I pulled out my phone and held it up to Marcie. Sure the room was dark and my phone had crappy quality but at least I would have something to hang over her head if she was going to bitch me around (like she didn't do that already).
     "Say cheese,"
     There was a click and my cell phone flashed, catching a snapshot of a wrecked Marcie. Caught off guard, she didn't have to time to react before I bolted out of the closet and shut the door behind. She pounded her fist against it once but I knew she was too vain to come out looking like she did.
     Patch showed up then, an eyebrow lifted in inquiry. "Were you just—" he began but I quickly made to deny it.
     I snorted as if the thought were absurd when in fact he probably saw me. "No." I'm not usually a liar but around this guy, I couldn't help but to. "What are you waiting for," I said quickly, straightening up. "Let's go,"
Patch merely shrugged it off. "You're one strange woman, Grey,"
     Once at the library, I learned tutoring Patch was easier than I thought it'd be. For one thing he was determined and he could be a fast learner, it was just that the whole stock market and the complexity of economic trade was puzzling when it was off the paper.
     Patch was more of a visual leaner so I could understand if he were a people person (and I mean off the field). I found breaking it down was pointless I considered a different approach.
     "You've just gotta . . ." I trailed off, thinking back to his football practice. A new thought bloomed in mind.      "You're really dedicated to football right?" I began, and he nodded once. "And this"—I gestured to our notes. "is just a pillow to fall back on. So try to think of it like football." I said, hoping I could change his view.
He sat back and bit his lip, his eyebrows drawn together. I noticed he did that when he thought intently. I tried not to stare because it was becoming very distracting. "How,"
     "When you're on the field, I've noticed that you make a mental map of your surroundings or opponents. Who your allies are, who aren't and where you stand but you never go for the weakest link. You should probably be using the same principles in business." I shrugged a shoulder in suggestion.
     A grin tugged at his lips. "What do you know about football, long-legs,"
     "Not much." I shrugged. "But enough to know you don't play nice," I added, implying his record of fights on the field.
     His grin grew into this sexy, lazy smirk as he stretched his legs. "They ask for it." I hadn't noticed how tall he was. I'm just so used to being short it didn't register that he was nearly as tall as Jules.
     "Oh yes, of course, because they beg you to beat them down to a pulp," I said sarcastically.
     He playfully punched my arm. "Don't get smart on me,"
     I flattened my hand to my chest and sighed dramatically. "It's what I'm best known for."

Friday, November 5, 2010

Rixon Moria

Rixon Moria

Marcie Millar

Marcie Millar

Patch Cipriano

 Patch Jev Cipriano

. . . is Coldwater University's prized half-back. He takes a course in business with Nora. His former girlfriend was Marcie Millar and his parents are deceased.



Age:
25
Skin:
Mediterranean
Eyes:
Black
Hair:
Black; Silky Curls
Occupation:
Student
Busboy and Server at Borderline
Mother:
Deborah Cipriano(Deceased)
Father:
Julian Cipriano (Deceased)
Relationship:
Girlfriend
Nicknames:
Patch (Everyone)
Jev (Sometimes Nora, Dabria, Dorthea)

Bio:

Patch has always been into foot ball and he takes the game to heart.

Skills:

Patch Can:
  • Play Football
  • Fight
  • Make others laugh
  • Can hot wire a car
  • Arm a gun
  • Pickpocket 
Basically do criminal acts
  • Kiss (oh la, la)
Relationships:


     Nora Grey

     Marcie Millar

     Rixon Moria

     Elliot Saunders

     Scott Parnell

     Coach McCanaughy

     Dabria Cipriano

     Dorthea

Vee Skye

Vee Skye

. . . is corky, obnoxious but also a lovable best friend, to Nora Grey. She attends Coldwater University to study medicine, though she trained to become a professional dancer throughout most of her life. She can be easily distraction when she's not interested and loves to party. She knows how to have a great time.

 
Age:
20
Skin:
Creamy
Eyes:
Green
Hair:
Blonde
Occupation:
Student
Mother:
Sarah Skye (Divorced)
Father:
Jonathan Skye (Divorced)
Relationship:
Boyfriend
Nicknames:
Love (Rixon)

Bio:


Vee's mother has always wanted her to become a professional dancer and study the arts, and though she'd like to please her mother, she has attend C. U. to study health because of her fascination with the human body. She avoids the issue at hand and tries to delay telling her mother about her change of course. 

     She paid for most of her intuition but fell short of the cash and took up a cheer leading scholarship that filled in her college funds. It was pretty easy considering her years of training. At least she could put it to good use!

On her spare time when she's not out with Rixon, or Nora she takes a palates class and writes for the sports column in the school's eZine newspaper. She likes burritos and Halloween cupcakes.

Skills:

Vee can:
  • Dance
  • Cheer-lead
  • Write
  • Pickpocket
  • Play Guitar Hero 
  • Sing

Relationships:


Nora Grey is Vee's absolute best friend. She's quite the opposite of Vee, but she claims she "keeps her balanced". They met in high school and have been inseparable since, basically attached at the hip. 

     Rixon Moria is Vee's Irish love. She loves his accent and his sweet kisses. He's playful and very caring towards her. His best friend is Patch Cipriano.

     Marcie Millar is also Vee's worst enemy. Since she started the cheer leading squad, she has been harassed by Millar for stepping into her territory. Vee shows no fear towards the cold woman but also does not start anything.

     Though Patch Cipriano is Rixon's best friend, Vee does not like him. She's banded him as a player or a football whore. She discourages Nora's attraction to patch but eventually comes around when she notices how they've grown to another.  

     Vee keeps her mother, Sarah Skye, at a distance to avoid her mother from finding out she wasn't studying the arts. 


Nora Grey

Nora Grey
Nora Grey

. . . attends Coldwater University for practices in business. She's an all around savvy, dedicated and straight-laced girl with her head in a book and a future in business, like her mother, who works as an Auction House Coordinator all along the east coast.


Age:
22
Skin:
Tan; Creamy
Eyes:
Smoky
Hair:
Reddish-Brown; Curly
Occupation:
Student
Mother:
Blythe Grey (Widowed)
Father:
Harrison Grey (deceased)
Relationship:
Complicated
Nicknames:
Long-legs (Patch)
Babe (Vee)
Buttercup (Pen-pale)
Curly (Chauncey)
Klutzilla (Marcie)

Bio:


Nora always achieves for the greatest she can be. She's taken up after her mother in studies of business and international relations. She's very focused and never misses her assignments. She doesn't even get into disputes because it's against her morals. 

     The perfect angel child, right? 

     She lost her father to Vietnam war when she was sixteen and has secluded herself since. She keeps people at a distant because of being hurt. She uses her studies to keep herself distracted since she can only focus on one thing.
     
     She has an independent streak after raising her for most of her life and is always on point. She likes nachos, bubble baths, and writing poems. 
Skills:

Nora can:
  • Play the cello
  • Play baseball
  • Write poems
  • Sleuth
  • Arm a gun
  •  
    Relationships:


    Her best friend is Vee Skye, who's immature at times but knows how to have fun. They've known each other since high school and have been inseparable since. Nora rarely trust anyone so Vee's her only friend.

         Jules (Chancey) Langeais is . . . well, he's like an older brother. A stinky, smelly, sloth-of-a-brother she feared she'd ever have. He can come off as insincere and fat but when it comes to it, he'll be there for her.

         Since her father (Harrison Grey) died, Nora and her mother, Blythe Grey, have grown extremely close to another. She is always their for Nora, even if she's miles away. She's keeps Nora feeling stronger, especially after her encounters with the merciless.

         Marcie Millar is her worst enemy. She's known since she enrolled at Coldwater University and is always the subject of Marcie's kill. Things get worse when, Marcie is convinced that Nora has stolen her boyfriend, Patch. Nora tries to avoid her as best as she can, but she always shows up.

         Her relationship with Patch Cipriano started out innocently enough. He smart, athletic and charismatic. A total charmer. Though she learns of his past and knows of his temper, she can't help but be allured. 

         Anthony Amowitz—to be revealed.


    All reference to the Hush,Hush saga belong (sadly) to Becca Fitzpatrick and Becca Fitzpatrick alone. The idea and plot was all mines, so paws off!
    Copy right of 2010.

    Tuesday, November 2, 2010

    R . I . P

    On Nov.1st a girl named Sarah died. She was hit by a car on her way to school. The students from my school who saw this were traumatized. It was said that she was stable until she died at the hospital. It was only her freshman year in high school and she was sadly taken away from her family. It's true that people die every day but sometimes were don't realize that our time is pretty limited. I just didn't want her death to be in vain so I ask of you to cherish what you have and forget the small things. You have enough things to worry about . . . 

     They say there's 7 deadly sins, when there's 8. 
    It's cold, it's cruel and it's called Love. 
    Love makes us all sinners but we can't live without it. 
    It's the closest thing we have to magic.

    R . I . P  SARAH

    Monday, November 1, 2010

    What Am I Getting Into?

    You make me wanna la, la in the kitchen on the floor
    I'll be your French maid where I meet you at the door
    I'm like an alley cat
    Drink the milk up I want more
    You make me wanna
    You make me wanna scream
    —Ashlee Simpson (La, La)

    I paused, doubling over with my fists on my knees. Deep breaths Nora, I told myself.
         "You okay?" Vee asked, jogging in place.
         Okay? Okay? Well let's see. I had a cramp biting into my ribs, my lungs were getting tight, and I felt like I lost my legs on the second lap. I felt like putty, all mushy and worn out. In other words, I was not okay.
         "Agua," I breathed, forcing my tired limbs to straighten up. Vee seemed as if she's just hopped onto the track a second ago. How was it that she wasn't even tired yet. We jogged four lapse around the whole football field. It's was just ridiculously huge.
         "All right, you have to sit out," she said, lugging me towards the bleacher. I dropped onto the metallic bench without hesitation, hurting my butt. I grimaced.
         I glanced up at Vee, her body eclipsing the afternoon sun. The weather had taken a turn for the better today: zero winds, no clouds leaving us bathing in a beaming shower of sun. It really felt like spring, then.
         I gratefully took the bottle of water she offered up and chugged down a third of the bottle in a gulp. I sighed, taking in even breaths now. "Why are we taking this course again?"
         "Because mama needs to drop a few pounds but sadly I lack motivation. You're my support system," Don't think it was ever an option.
         "Yeah well, I'm getting dizzy supporting you," I mused, fingering the pocket of my sweat pants for my iron pills. I was anemic and sometimes when I was over exerting myself I'd get dizzy and breathless. Real breathless.
         Vee frowned. "Why didn't you take your pills this morning? You should've warned me you were low," she chided, but I was barely listening. Taking another swig of water, I downed my pills, my gaze trained on the swift shadow moving across the field.
         I headed straight for my dorm, after the little episode I witnessed yesterday. Patch had seemed frozen to stone, perching up on the library steps with his hands in his curly dark locks.
         I doubted he was up for studying, especially since Marcie had just called a quits on their whole . . . fling again.
         I had seen the scene play out before. It even appeared in gossip magazines. Because the Arch-angels were such a popular varsity college team, they got a lot of publicity, especially Patch. Girls were gaga for him when he came across a magazine. It was a question what Marcie was to Patch because of the on-and-off situation they went through. They didn't even make up—they just came across each other and broke out into a make-out session.
         Vee liked the thought of a infuriated Marcie but wasn't surprised, hear the news. "Watch, you'll catch 'em under the bleachers groping like freaky monkeys tomorrow," she told me.
         There was no question there but it was their topic at hand that roamed my mind.
         I tried to see myself in Marcie's place with a hundred girls gawking at my super hot boyfriend without any shame or respect. (Really, not that hard.) I guess I could see why she was very possessive of the guy but did it mean she had to assert her status so crudely. Patch was right—she didn't have to act like a bitch. What did it matter that I was having a little one-on-one time with Patch.
         I hadn't asked for it.
         And what did she mean when he asked her why she couldn't trust him. Had he cheated on her before? I pondered the idea for only a second. Hundred of girls crowded where he worked for simply a candid pic on their phones and surely enough I didn't doubt Patch could work a charm on any girl. Plus he was a football player, this kind of stuff went to their heads.
         I couldn't say it was beyond him. He seemed like the bad-boy jockey with a lack of restriction or rules. Everything about him alerted you of danger, but who could ignore such temptation.
         "Earth to Nora," Vee sing-sang.
         I glanced up reluctantly, squinting against the glare of the sun. "Yeah,"
         I hadn't realized I was studying Patch. Like his stance, his swift moves, they way he seemed to assess his opponents. He was careful, taking in his surroundings and always a step ahead of anything.
         He owned the field.
         "You two were staring," she mused, her gaze flickering between me and apparently Patch. He was staring . . .
         "I didn't even realize," I muttered, more to myself than to her.
         "Okay, weird. Before you start sending each other psychic messages, lets get out of here," She sighed, shrugging up to her feet. "We have a date with the showers and desert with the library.
         I held out my hand, too lazy to haul myself up and onto my feet again. I took the last of the water from my bottle as we headed back to the girls housing dorms, when my name was called. Vee and I paused, giving a puzzled glance over our shoulders.
         Staring back was Patch. He waved me over but I stood in my place, unsure.
         I asked Vee, "Should I?"
         "Uh, no." she said as if it were the obvious answer in the world. We heard Coach holler for Patch's attention and he seemed to reluctantly draw back towards his practice.
         "What do you think he wanted?" Vee asked as we started towards our dorm again.
         "No idea."
         Vee and I freshened up and switched into capris and tanks considering the warm weather. Vee was yammering about a blow out sales at Macy's when we strolled into the Library. It was must go, once-in-a-lifetime sale that she was not planning on missing. Of course she'd drag me along.
         "Hey, Mrs. Seralli," I grinned politely as we rounded the counter adjacent to the giant double doors.
         "Hey," said Vee.
         "Afternoon ladies." the fifty-something year old women smiled sweetly, a ray of lines fanning about her cheeks.
         "Do you need me work today?"
    She sighed gratefully, a fluff of hair fluttering up in the breeze she created. "That would be nice. These old weary bones are getting tired of this labyrinth they call a library. Can you please put these reference books back up stairs."
         "Of, course," I smiled, taking the fat ass textbooks she shoved up onto the counter, but inside I really didn't need another round of gym.
         "Bless you, child," Mrs. Seralli sighed and returned back to a novel she was hallway through.
         Vee bat her lashes and grinned as if she were swooning. "You're such a saint," she sighed contentedly.
         I bumped my hip against hers since my hands were occupied. "Shut up," I grinned.
         "Well, anyways, I saw these really cute heels," she went on as we made for the stairs. I gave her meaningful glance, but said nothing. "What? Don't give me that look,"
         I rolled my eyes. "Well, do you really think you need heels," I asked, taking in her height once again.
         "I actually have the legs for it," she pouted.
         I lifted an indifferent shoulder. "I'm just saying,"
         "Yeah, well you know how to kill a puppy." she huffed as we scaled up the stairs.
         My brows furrowed, and for a cruel second, I could actually see it play out before me. "That's cruel and unusual."I shuddered.
         "Well, if it isn't Cinderella," a dark, Irish voice spoke from beside us as we move on to the loaded bookshelves on the second floor. We turned to the stranger and Scott who stood a little behind him. "You forgot to leave you glass slipper behind."
         The Irish dude was tall, even for Vee, with inky bluish-black hair and a hawk nose. I recognized him as the Arch-angel's star quarter-back. He was also a fan favorite. Rixon—I think his name was.
         Vee smirked besides herself, her smile overly flirty as she gave him a quick head-to-toe. "I'll make sure to remember that next time, Charming," My eyes rolled back, as I suddenly itched to get away.
         Really?
         "Would next time be at the Easter Fair at Delphic this weekend? I'd really like to take you," he grinned. He has perfect teeth.
         Vee pursed her lips, and held up her iPhone, camera already aimed. "Let me think," she murmured and took the snapshot. She handed it over and he happily punched in his let me look at his candid which was pretty impressive for a raw shot. "Sure."
         He flashed his perfect teeth. "Call me,"
         Vee said nothing but stared back coyly, watching him as he descended the stairs. "Nice ass," she said under her breath. I snorted a little. Vee was ridiculous. "Hey, I'm heading for the computers,"
         "Kay,"
         I skimmed through the rows, looking for the right shelf. My fingers glided over the spines of the worn, dull books that were lined up like stiff soldiers. Letters and numbers were taped to their sides, marking their identity. Out of my peripheral vision I could make out a silhouette taking form as it moved in.
    Almost certain it was Scott, I spun around sharply.
         "Oh, god!" I jumped, clutching tightly to the books before I made any noise. I heard a chuckle escape Patch as he watched me try to settle my heart. "What are you doing here?" I gasped, my hand clutching at my chest as if to stop it from punching it's way through my ribs.
         "Looking for you," he replied coolly, leaning up against the wall to the window. "I know you work here, so I guessed this was my best chance at finding you,"
         I studied him for a moment. I found it weird how Patch kept showing up in places uninvited. Sure he worked at Borderline and the field was his domain but we had never been even acutely aware of another. Why now? And how was it that he knew where I worked and which dorm I vacated.
         I couldn't help but feel wary.
         "I'm sorry but when did you become a stalker?" I demanded, hand still to my chest. This seemed to amuse him. I watched as the right corner of his mouth pulled up, his eyebrows arched.
         "I didn't mean to startle you," he said but his expression told me otherwise. "Are you always this jumpy?"
         "No," I frowned, not especially pleased by his sudden presence. "You just seem to show up a lot lately, in some way, shape or form." I added, stretching up on my toes to tuck a volume of the English dictionary away on a high shelf. I wasn't known for my height but if not for my legs, I'd be dwarfed by anyone around me.
         Thank you long legs.
         "Anyways, you found me. What do you want?" I asked, easing back off the balls of my feet and capturing his roaming gaze. He was talking in my length, his eyes lingering on my bare legs. And even though he knew I caught him staring he still took his time to meet my gaze.
         "You bailed on me yesterday," he remarked, that stupid smirk still on his face.
         I paused, unsure of how much to say.
         "Uh, actually I was late," I said slowly, pacing out of the row and down the stairs. Patch was quick to follow. I wasn't sure how much I should share with him, considering I was eavesdropping in their little frat but it's not like they weren't eventually going to kiss and make up, as Vee so nicely explained.
         But none-the-less Patch caught me at the foot of the stairs. "And?" he prompted when I said nothing else.
    "And . . ." I began slowly. "you were sort of occupied when I got there,"
         His eyebrows furrowed but then relaxed in understanding. "You caught that?" he didn't seem pleased with my knowing.
         "No," I lied impulsively.
         He stared me down. "You're a poor liar, Nora," I opened my mouth to object but I had no argument. I really did. Hey, though their conversation had peeked my interest a little, what was going on between Marcie and Patch was just that—between Marcie and Patch. I didn't need to get in the middle of anything.
         Turning on my toes, I made for the computer lounge where Vee sat streaming the web.
         "I'm not mad or anything," he said as if reassuring me I hadn't done anything wrong. "If it was a private conversation we wouldn't have made it public episode."
         "You two seem to have a lot of those," I muttered without registering what I was saying. I glanced over my shoulder, "No offense or anything,"
         He dismissed it with a wag of his. "Nah, you're right," he muttered, his gaze thoughtful and untrained. "You're totally right,"
         "Look, I didn't mean—"
         He shook his head, holding up his hand. "No—you know what forget it. Tomorrow, please, don't bail on me again. I really need this, alright?"
         I nodded solemnly. "Of course,"
         "Great, tomorrow,"
         "Tomorrow," I echoed. He graced me with a barely there smile and walked out, disappearing out into the darkening sky.
         By the time Vee and I had finally headed back to the girls housing dorms, the sun had tucked away below the horizon, turning the sky from blue to tar black. Distant stars freckled the black sheet of night, the moon casting the eeriest glow upon the school grounds. The temperature had dropped dramatically over the course of the last hour, the air freezing our butts off as we rushed back to our dorm.
         Vee shivered violently, burring. My teeth clicked. "Well, that was just lovely," she muttered grudgingly. We weren't yet prepared to shrug off our jackets until we in the comfort of our toasty room.
         Vee went for a toasty shower while I made for my comforter.
         I didn't know why but I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift towards Patch. I didn't know much about him, but I think I started wanting to. He seemed different, and for some reason it only made me crave him more.
         What am I getting into?

    Down the Drain

    All that bullshit's for the birds
    You ain't nothin' but a vulture
    Always hopin' for the worst
    Waitin' for me to fuck up
    You'll regret the day when I find another girl, yeah
    Who knows just what I need, she knows just what I mean
    When I tell her keep it drama free
    —Chris Brown (Deuces)

    "You said what now?" Vee demanded when I told her what or who was added on my to-do list today.
         I snorted. "That's what I said,"
         We were at a new Enzo's Bistro, one that opened up on the Delphic pier recently, getting warm lattes and soft, moist biscuits. I said thank-you to the guy at the counter and took up a seat beside Vee on the store's outdoor terrace. It was early spring in Coldwater with the sun beaming down on us through a fog of clouds. Anyone who lived in Coldwater for a while knew better than to expect more rays of sunlight now; Maine loved winter.
         I picked at the chocolate-chip in my muffin, while my latte cooled of a little. "Apparently Patch has scouts coming next game and even though Coach . . . favors him," I picked carefully, "he's still a teacher and has to bench Patch because he's failing the semester. Coach made it pretty much mandatory to tutor."
         "Patch," Vee muttered, pondering the name on her tongue. "Think he could be in a gang? It sounds like a gang name, right? Like 'Hey, Patch, ready to snuff this guy?'" She used a deeper voice to imitate a gang member but her impression was horrible.
         "No," I chuckled, shaking my head at her poor impersonation. "Not even close."
         "I don't know what a gang is like!" she said defensively, shrugging because she knew how stupid she sounded. "You know if Marcie finds out you spending one on one time with Patch, she will freak!" her voice went like two octaves higher. If I was gonna get mauled by Marcie, I'd like to make it clear that I held Vee responsible. If she had woken me up on time, than Coach would've picked on some unfortunate soul.
         Which reminded me . . .
         "Ow, why, why would you do that?" she cried, cupping her bicep and frowning.
         "Why didn't you wake me up?" I retorted.
         "I did wake you up," she replied pointedly. "But you went back to sleep and frankly I was a little over due myself."
         I frowned. I guess I do have a tendency of doing that. "Oh," I muttered sheepishly and winced, pain shooting up my arm. "Ow," I said through my teeth.
         "'Oh'" Vee's Me So Horny ring-tone sang from her jeans. Quickly, she pulled out her iPhone and sighed. "I got a Pilates class about now with Rachelle, mind if I bail?" Rachelle was Vee's trainer. I didn't get why she insisted on this fitness thing she had going on (she really didn't need it) but I wasn't going to say anything. Once Vee made up her mind, she was impossible to persuade her.
         "It's like three, right?" Vee nodded so I shook my head. "No, it's fine, I have to head to the library anyways." It's where Patch and I had decided to meet up.
         "All right babe, later," she bounced off to her purple Dodge Neon, a car she adored very much. I made for the beach parking lot leisurely, in no rush to meet up with Patch.
         But just the mere thought of his name had me thinking about him. The dark eyes, the tall build . . . those those thin, smooth lips . . .
         Whoa, whoa, whoa Nora! What are you thinking? This is Patch were talking about here.
         And maybe Vee was right, (even though I highly doubted so) you never know—he could be in a gang. I knew nothing about him. Besides this was Marcie's boyfriend. He was claimed—off limits—out of bounds! I could already see Marcie glaring at me, the words "No trespassing—no trespassing!" ringing clear in my head.
    Mentally scowling at my train of thought, I frowned upon my Fiat Spider. It was pretty lame—brown and old but not too shabby, I guess. I just hated that I couldn't pay for a car that didn't stutter or fart whenever it was low on gas. As I opened up my car door, ice snaked it's way down my spine as a undeniable voice called me, his breath fanning over my ear.
         "Hey, Grey" his finger wound around one of my curls. I whipped around and slapped his hand away instinctively. It fell limply to his side.
         "I told you to stay away from me, Scott," I sighed, exasperated by this boys persistence. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
         Frowning, he leaned a shoulder against the side of the door. "Still playing games?"
         I didn't bother to answer, but it was pointless. He was practically deaf. Deciding to ignore the creep, I swung the door open, shoving him aside in the process. I tossed my bag onto the seat and slid in after it. I was prepared to close the door after me and drive off but Scott had a firm grip on the handle, keeping it wide open. I glared straight ahead.
         "I'm getting tired of this hard-to-get attitude. Come on, Nora," he flashed what he thought was a charming smile but it only came off cold. "I'm waiting."
         Violently, I wrenched the door out of his grip and slammed it shut. "Don't hold your breath now," I said pleasantly enough though I was internally grinding my teeth. From my peripheral vision I could see a glare make it's appearance as I revved up the engine.
         Then, without a second thought, I flipped him the happy bird and drove off.

    It was weird how obsessed Scott was with getting into my pants.
         Obviously, his vocabulary was lacking NO and or NEVER. He dominated my thoughts as I drove back to campus. I mean, what did he want? Why was he so interested in me? As I had so clearly mentioned, I wasn't that much to look at, honestly. Sure I was cute, small face, little girl ringlets that took forever to straighten, and guys were into my long legs but I wasn't busty or blond and I definitely did not stand out in a crowd.
         Guys want what they can't have . . . and I definitely wouldn't give into Scott Parnell.
         I sighed heavily as I pulled up in campus parking lot and killed the engine. Glancing at my phone I noted I was thirty minutes late. I was definitely in no rush to get here but I hadn't meant to be this late. Swearing under my breath, I jumped out of the Spider and made for the library.
         Most of construction in Coldwater were refurbished 18th century buildings. The campus houses were still ancient on the outsides—corners glazed with moss, signs and insignias still creased with age. It was the insides that were re-polished like a good old spit shine. I especially liked the stain-glass windows that spoke a lot about the university and it's need to stay in touch with it's heritage.
         I jogged as soon as the huge library building came into view and rounded the pillars of the arch way in front of the fine carved double doors. I stilled and crept back behind the Grecian-like pillar. On the top of the stairs stood Patch and Marcie seeming a bit flustered. I didn't know what to make of the little fight but I knew they were talking about me.
         "Why are you stressing over this?" Patch spoke, "She's just tutoring me,"
         Marcie's voice rang out, hot and annoyed. "Because I don't like her. All right, I don't like her,"
         "You don't even know her!"
         "Oh, but you do?" She raised a brow, daring him to say something that would probably result in Marcie tracking me down and ripping my hair out. Ow,that'd hurt.
         Patch sighed, rubbing his hand along his jaw. Marcie was waiting. "Babe, I really need this, it's my shot to show these scouts I can make it pro. I just don't get why you're getting all jealous and insecure about this."
    Marcie snapped. "Because everyone wants a piece of you. I see the way other girls look at you, okay?"
         "That doesn't mean you have to be a bitch to everyone," Patch shot back. It seemed the quieter he got the angrier he was. Marcie seemed stunned into silence because her faced just dropped. "Why is it so hard to just trust me?" he asked quietly.
         Marcie's voice was only a distant murmur. It took me a second to register what she was saying.
    "You know why,"
         Without another word she crossed her arms over her chest, stormed down the short steps of the library and whipped past me in a breeze. Patch's head bowed and his fists clenched until his skin turned from warm gold to pale white.
         He didn't go after her. He didn't leave. Patch didn't move.

    Chance Meetings?

    Life is good I can't complain
    I mean I could but no one's listening
    Your image overwhelms my brain
    And it feels good, good, good
    —Aly and Aj (Like Whoa)

    "Name three respiratory diseases that can cause or lead to death and name one symptom they all have in common."
         "Uh," Vee's eyes rolled up in thought as she swiveled back and forth in her computer chair. "That would have to be Lung Cancer, Emphysema and—rarely—Asthma." she spoke slowly, peeking at her notes for split second. "Oh, and they can cause constriction in the air ways." She added as a matter-of-factly. Vee was due for an accumulative exam tomorrow, summing up what she had learned so far in the semester.
         She had cooled down after the little episode earlier and after a coma-inducing hour of Psychology, we crashed in our dorm, deciding to brush up on our studies. We had already devoted two and half hours into her studies on the human body, diseases and functions.
         I really didn't mind. I didn't have much work to turn in, and my one essay wasn't due 'til next week. Besides, the distraction was nice.
         "Check, check, and check," I murmured slowly, mentally tallying up what she scored. "Awesome, that's 19 out of 23." I handed her the deck of flash cards on the respiratory system and pulled my laptop onto my lap.
         "It's hard being this awesome." She sighed, as if she was asked to work a double shift on Christmas. As she said that, she turned up the computer speakers, music oozing out of it's pores. "Hey, I'm getting hungry. Wanna order in?"
         "Uh," I glanced up reluctantly and nodded. "Sure. But this time, tell them not to put the bar-b-que sauce on the shrimp."
         Vee already had her cell phone out, dialing away. "'Kay, 'kay," she said as she stepped out into the hall way. Her play-list was loud enough and Vee was the kind of person who didn't like repeating herself.
    Once alone, I opened up my e-mail, a bunch of advertisements and spam loading in a column. I skimmed through the list briefly. I got one from Coach McConaughy, probably reminding his class about the essay we were assigned.
         I got another from my mom, who lived on the outskirts of Coldwater. She worked for Hugo Renaldi Auction Company as an estate and antique auction coordinator along the east coast. She liked to check up on me plenty, and vent about where she was and who she met. I always gave her a mundane response about how I was keeping up my studies, how Vee was and how much I missed her.
         When I lost my dad, my mom and I became pretty close knit. College was the farthest I'd ever been from her.
         Just as I had been reading her message a second time, a tab popped up. I could feel a smirk rise on my lips as I clicked on it. It was my pen-pale, a stranger that I came across by accident. We had a totally safe relationship, so I didn't have to worry about a predator or anything. This guy had never even tried to pursue meeting up officially or whatever. (He lives in California—the other sunshine state.)
         This was more of a flirty relationship than anything else, and our privacy was kept so we remained a stranger to another. It was cool to be someone else to someone you'd never meet. You could tell them anything and expect nothing.

    Hey
    Wats up Buttercup?
    Noth'n interesting.
    U?
    Bored :(
    How can I entertain u?
    Tel me wat ur wearing
    Wat if I said noth'n?

         I was really wearing my flannel pajama pants with monkeys tattooed all over them and my high school t-shirt, a giant hawk stretch across my back. But my pen-pale didn't need to know that. In our chats, I wasn't meek and nerdy like I was in reality, but this more open and bold person.

    R U?
    Wat if?
    Paint a pic 4 me ;)
    In ur dreams perv :P
    Y R U such a tease?

         I was prepared to reply in a quip remark when Vee strolled in. That was a little long just for a Chinese food order, I thought.

    One sec

         "Zoe was late for the mail; I had to pick it up," she explained. She held up an envelope with my name written across it in a smooth and lazy scrawl, the letters all connected. My brows furrowed as I took it, the handwriting unfamiliar to me. I cautiously pulled out the small card inside and a twenty dollar bill. Vee gave me a quizzical look. "Twenty bucks?"
         I flipped over the card and in the same lazy scrawl wrote:
    Tabs on me, P.
         P? Patch? I was so desperate earlier, to get out of the restaurant, that I didn't even mind paying for our lunch, so long as I could make my get away. I was so caught up Marcie drama that I hadn't remembered that Patch worked at Borderline. Since Vee and I always went to Borderline, we had noticed the place was always packed, the Arc Angels growing fan club taking stolen pics of the team on their camera phones.
         They were usually mainly of Patch or this stringy looking dude, with hair so black it came off as blue. I was so used to the full house that Patch hadn't even came to mind. I wondered if he had returned my money. Surely, that's what "Tabs on me" had to mean, right?
         But how did he know where to find me?
         "So," Vee began, plopping down beside me and hugging a pillow to her chest. Aware that she had a full view of my online chat, I discretely lowered the screen and lowered it off my lap. She didn't know about my little friend, just knew I was always chatting it up with someone she didn't know.
         "So," I prompted. I didn't want her getting curious again.
         "Patch Cipriano, huh?" her expression was blank, giving nothing away to her thoughts but I had a pretty good guess of what she was thinking. There was nothing going on between Patch and I and if there was, it was only platonic. Patch was stunning but not my type. I was beyond good looks for all that mattered. But from what I've seen, what I've heard seemed like a stark contrast of the guy I met only yesterday.
         He was nice for one, and pretty mellow for someone who was known for getting into plenty of fights on and off the field. Besides he was with Marcie. Either he had a poor judge of character or . . . well, nothing. He definitely had a poor judge of character, that's for sure.
         "It was just a chance meeting." I murmured as I tucked the card back in it's place and hid the envelope in my bedside drawer. But that had been twice already, plus the envelope . . .
         I could feel her eyes on me, studying me for another moment and said wryly, "Right,"
         A soft rap sounded and Zoe's head poked in. "Chinese food's here," she announced.
         "Alright," Vee said and sat up. "Don't miss me too much,"
         I rolled my eyes. Once she left, I took up my lap top:

    Still there?
    T 2 2mrrw. Something came up
    Later

    The sun beamed down on me, my unruly curls draped over my face. I was sweating under my comforters, the temperature definitely hotter than expected. Groaning indignantly, I stiffly stretched out my limbs, working out my kinks. Slowly, I let my eyes adjust to the rays of the sun and squinted at my alarm clock.
         9:42, I thought, thinking nothing of it until it dawned on me that class started at nine today and Coach would definitely hound me about being late. If there was anything else he loved other than coaching blood sports, it would be harassing tardy students. I shuddered at the thought and bolted for my closet, tossing on a pair of jeans and a thermal hoodie.
         I in my haste, I managed to trip on my own foot. I was stuck trying to pull on my socks and brush my teeth at the same time. I huffed when I looked in the bathroom mirror, my hair to freakish to just where down so I did my best to tame it into a decent ponytail.
         I'm so late, I'm so late.
         I kept repeating the words in my head as if it would make me run any faster. So part of me was angry that Vee hadn't even bothered to wake me but I could bitch at her later.
         Right now: I had to get to class.
         Sadly once there, I found the room was empty except for Coach McConaughy and a very angry Patch. "You can't bench me next game, Couch. You said I have scouts coming," Patch spoke, sounding pretty agitated.
         Boy, did I have bad timing.
         Realizing, I was interrupting a dispute, I skidded to a stop in my worn out converse. I stopped just short of Coach's desk, nearly knocking my knee into the sturdy wood. I was breathing pretty hard, and a killer cramp was biting into my stomach. I doubled-over, clenching my sides and taking long gulps of air.
         "Nice of you to join us Ms. Grey," Coach's smooth, calm voice almost made me scared. He peeked at his watch. "You're late," Slowly he turned to me, broad arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look made but the calm he was sporting was pretty scary, itself. It kind of made me expect him to just—snap.
         "I'm really sorry I missed class but I—" I began, fumbling for an excuse, but really there wasn't any. "I'm really sorry,"
         He smiled impishly, not even looking at me but at Patch who seemed to be growing more and more impatient. "Relax, Grey, your not in trouble,"
         My brows rose skeptically. "You said what now?"
         Coach seemed bemused by this. "You're not in trouble—tell me do you still tutor?"
         My gaze flicked briefly to Patch, fearing that this wasn't going where I thought it was going. "Uh, no," I spent the first semester tutoring as an after school job—I mean, might as well put my brains to good use, right? But I settled for working in the library instead. It paid well and I always did prefer books to people. It was just easier to get lost in a book than it was to constantly repeat yourself to someone who didn't give a rats ass.
         "But I've learned you've been helping Ms. Skye study for her exams and since then her grades have been pretty decent." he said.
         I shook my head, defending Vee's case. "I actually didn't do much, it's really all her. The problem with Vee is her lack of dedication. I just help her focus, really. You know keep her head in the game."
         "Great, than you wouldn't mind doing the same for Patch here, if you want me to look past this little inconvenience."
         I was really starting to wonder if these run-ins with Patch were really chance meetings.