egotistical

after midnight ; muse a works at the local cornerstore as well as being in school to pay for books and keep herself alive, and usually gets stuck working the graveyard shift—which she admits can be kind of amusing considering the people that come in. in particular, she notices muse b, a cute girl who comes in at least every friday to pick up a box of condoms, a bag of candy and painkillers. sometimes they talk and joke, but muse a never hits on her because ‘of course she probably is straight.’ however, after jokingly saying ‘have fun with the boyfriend!’ after ringing muse b up, she’s surprised when muse b turns before leaving, laughing and saying ‘i like girls. cute ones.’ with a wink. cue late night flirting and kissing when there are no customers!

the wire ; muse a and muse b met during their first year of college while trying to join up for a sorority. sparks flew and now in their junior year, they’re a hot couple: usually pictured at all the parties, always hanging onto to each other—they are the envy of most couples on campus seeing as they’re always getting along— but when a new rush season starts and muse a starts to get close to a new pledge, muse b gets jealous and begins acting out of character and starts flirting with other girls—putting a major strain on their seemingly perfect relationship.

who are you ; muse a is one of those girls. the “i’m not like those other girls,” type. who refuses to buy starbucks, wears glasses, reads books, drinks tea, watches dr.who like her life depends on it, and has the typical internal misogyny glued right into her and refuses to change. muse b is one of those girls, and she really doesn’t care. she’ll wear her uggs, makeup and show up to every event with starbucks and instagram her cup because the barista wrote her name cutely that day. they end up working together at a retail place in the mall and muse a can’t stand muse b , that is until muse a is being harassed in the parking lot late at night after her shift by a bunch of guys while waiting for the bus, and muse b shows up out of nowhere and tells them off, driving muse a home while fuming about the boys, all the while checking to make sure muse a is doing okay. in the days following when muse b is driving muse a to and from work, muse a realizes something: she has a major crush on muse b, this preppy girl who swears like a truck driver at boys and smiles like miss america at every girl she passes— the very girl she thought she hated.

“this probably isn’t the most professional,” vivienne prefaces, willing to acknowledge that while she’s always had a relaxed approach to her interviews, finishing off her third cocktail before she’s even asked cassidy her first question isn’t exactly the most congenial move. she’d arrived too early, tucked away in a sticky corner booth of some innocuous bar with the smallest likelihood of interruptions from gawking patrons — too early, too anxious, too eager to take advantage of happy hour. “with that being said, i’m going to need another round before we really get into this.”

the concept of him not having much physical love stung her. especially since her own family were so loving and openly affectionate with one another. her eyes slowly reached his, and she looked, truly looked for the first time since they exchanged their vows. she remembered him as a boy, always fighting with her cousins. well, that was when their parents actually liked one another. who would have thought they would end up here. the blonde child in a pretty pink dress wouldn't have.

his eyebrows rose minutely as the shadow of consummation loomed over them once more, and he fidgeted. he wanted to ask her a question - but didn't have the courage. and perhaps she would think it wicked he'd even suggest that she wasn't pure - he disagreed. he didn't think sex was something to be ashamed about, but people were odd when it came to the subject. so he kept his mouth shut, but wondered at the princess' love life in the past. did she have a lover once upon a time? someone who marriage was an exciting prospect and not a doomed sentence like the one she shared with him? there was something bitter about the thought, and he recognized that feelings somewhat immediately for what it was; jealousy. he had no claim, not really, over her; not her heart, anyway. she did not love him - would probably never love him. he tried to forget and not think of the letters he often came back to lately in a small chest in his own quarters. for some reason, it hurt to think of her writing to him just now.

"odette," he paused, forehead marred by a frown, "i never thanked you..." carrying off, his hand reached for hers, cradling it carefully in his much larger one between them. "for writing to me when we were children. when.." he carried off, his eyes flickering from hers back to the window and he swallowed harshly. he couldn't say it, even after all these years. his eyes gradually crept back to her face then, and his eyes stayed warm and open, a stark difference to the emotion he had entered the chamber with. "thank you."