jamie goodwin

“Yes! They are so vintage looking and I almost cried when I found them,” she spoke. She didn’t live in a huge city, so she was lucky to have found such a unique item at her local thrift store. She normally had to search for hours for something so great. “I guess I just normally don’t get out too much but, Hello! I-I’m Aurora. I’m a Sophomore, Education major, Bohn,” she also introduced herself. 

"Well, what in this world is worth tears if not vintage, patterned boots?” he reflects. “If you don’t get out much, now’s the best time to start. Now’s always the best time to start, regardless.” The fact that she hasn’t entirely shot down his proposal yet is a good sign; he’s pretty sure he can convince her to come along. “Education, fair, fair. And what do you plan on teaching one day? Yet another reason why you should come out with me,” he adds, before tacking on in a playfully-grave tone, “We must educate ourselves-- about life, I mean-- before we educate the world.” 

Location: A library on campus near Bohn

Open: To Everyone @hadopens​

Today officially marked the Halloween season for Benji. He came across his first Reese’s Pumpkin and this year’s spooky Kit Kat release which was an intriguing flavor of marshmallow that was being touted as “Witch’s Brew”. Naturally, he bought two packs of Kit Kats and three Reese’s Pumpkins. Unfortunately the bag got dropped somewhere on his route and now Benji was having to backtrack to find his treats which he hoped weren’t outside somewhere melting in the heat. 

His first stop in his quest to be reunited with his candy was the library and he approached someone who studying in the same spot he’d sat in earlier that day. “Sorry to bother you but-” Benji began getting their attention off their laptop for a moment, “-you didn’t happen to find a tote bag full of candy here when you sat down did you?” He asked.

Jamie’s sitting cross-legged atop one of the tables of the library, his eyes glued to the laptop in his lap as his fingers fly over the keys. One would think he looks hard at work, though in all reality he’s only catching up on the desktop-version of Twitter while his phone’s plugged in next to the wall (3% and charging...). He’s guarding a mess of other laptops and backpacks as well-- the sophomores from a dance history class have gone to grab coffee from the little cafe on the first floor, finally taking a break from their project. He’s strictly here for moral support-- and because he’s bored with being in his room. 

When someone approaches and asks about a tote bag full of candy, his glances up. “I did indeed happen to find something similar,” he begins before wincing. His gaze darts to the empty bag now sitting underneath one of the table’s chairs, full of empty wrappers. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I must report that it was... pilfered and split among a number of needy students hard-at-work on their first week of studies.” And Jamie, who may not have been hard at work, but he was definitely here. “On the bright side, I’ve now learned that they make marshmallow-flavoured chocolate stick things, which-- they’re quite good. Who knew? Uh-- sorry, though.”  

Starter: Closed For: @jamie-goodwin​ Situation: Tarsa advertises that she is offering to be a tutor.

Tarsa had her job at the Haddon Creek Diner, which was enough to meet her basic needs, but Tarsa had very quickly gotten sticker shock at realizing just how expensive New York was compared to Alabama so she had begun looking for tutoring jobs. She had posted an ad on the school job advertising website, the student Facebook group, and the local town group with her contact info and so far had only gotten troll emails and a dick pic she had immediately texted back with “mediocre.” She had put $20 an hour and offered math up to Calculus 1 despite the local rate being higher so to attract more clients but so far nothing. She figured it would pick up once classes began in earnest but it was discouraging nonetheless. She would post again if she got no responses in a week as people would realize just how difficult their math classes are by then.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jamie calls out. He grins brightly as he walks up, giving a wave as he approaches the other student. “You’re-- the girl, the one who posted on facebook about tutoring, yeah?” He’s pretty sure her photo matches, at any rate, so he barrels ahead anyway. “I was going to message you, but I get kind of long-winded-- figured it’d be easier to find you in person. So here’s the thing: I have to pass this online calculus class to get my last required general math credit. I’ve taken it twice already, so odds are not good,” he informs her brightly. Once in person and once online and he still hasn’t managed to pass, and at this point he’s just tired. “I saw your rates, and I’m happy to pay them, though I’ll pay five times as much if you just take the tests for me. Ha. Only joking, of course.” He’s not joking. “Anyway, do you still have openings, or have you been all booked up for the semester?” 

They nod seriously, a hand moving to splay over their heart in a dramatic gesture. “Of course, who doesn’t understand the importance of having fun while we’re young?” Time was ticking away after all, a countdown to only having their trust fund rather than access to however much money they needed and Lottie was preparing to burn through as much of it as they could. “I would be happy to host, I have everything we could need for a few different drinks so we could pretend to be fancy to start off our pre-game before devolving into chaos. I’ll have to put away the rest of my shopping, but really should be doing that anyway, you know? Motivation in the form of a pre-game, it’s just what I need.”

When they easily agree to host the pre-game, he cheers. “You’re already the MVP,” Jamie declares, “And it’s only the first week of term. I wish I could say I was surprised. Alright, well-- if you’ve got the drinks covered, let me know what I can contribute, other than my ever-present glamour and grace. Pretzels, maybe? A charcuterie plate? Glitter, for further preparation’s sake? I’ll keep it separate from the food, of course...” As he rattles off options, he’s already pulling out his phone to let a few others know about the rapidly-forming pre-game plans. This is shaping up to be a great night already. 

“Um, I mean,” Aurora began to speak to the boy. She really wasn’t the type of person to go out much, or at all. She never really found any reasons to do such a thing, no matter who she might be with. “But oh my gosh, what color are your ankle boots? I thrifted a cherry pattered pair over the summer and I’ve been dying to find a reason to wear them, so I feel you,” she added on. “Maybe if you convince me enough, I’ll go out with you for a little bit?”

Jamie audibly gasps when she mentions the pair of shoes she thrifted. He hadn’t even considered patterns. “Cherry-patterned? Mine are cobalt blue...” he shrugs somewhat mournfully before pivoting back to optimism, “and they’re lovely, if disgustingly disappointing, comparatively. I have to see yours. What might convince you to come with? Look, I’ll even introduce myself properly.” He sticks his hand out his typical level of immense extroversion. “James Goodwin. Junior dance major, Darrow. I’d be a fantastic companion for the evening, and I can prove it.” 

Beverly had been prancing around on one of the tables in Darrow, where one of the students had decided to throw a party, that had quickly spiraled.  She took a hit from the dab pen that was dangling between two ring-clad fingers, exhaling softly as someone turned the music up from the other room, eliciting some cheers around her.  She was determined to make this year the best one yet, which is what her goals always were for every year she’s gone to Haddon.  The dares were so much fun last year, and she remembered fondly using a slip n’ slide out the windows of Gordon and got $26 out of it - not the highest prize, but she wasn’t really in it for the money, it was the fun!  She was itching to find out what was next, but for now, the current focus was tugging at the arm of the passerby, giving them a giddy and mildly tipsy smile.  “Hey!  You should come up here and dance with me!” she suggested, loudly, gesturing to her tank bodysuit and shorts, arms adorned with bracelets and rings, and she made a pose, with a hand on her hip and another sticking up in the air.  “How do I look?  You like my outfit?  Bought it just for the first party of the season.” *// @hadopens​

Oh, Darrow. Jamie wouldn’t trade living here for anything. Not that the other housing options were boring, necessarily, but... yeah, they’re definitely boring, comparatively. He’s catching up with the regulars and flitting through the throng of students-- who, by the look of it, are very glad that school’s back in session and their revelry has been reignited-- when his arm’s suddenly snagged by a girl up on a table. He doesn’t think she lives here, but she’s been around enough to be semi-recognizable. They may have had a class together at some point, but he really doesn’t recall. Still, he’s never one to turn down an opportunity for dancing. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, already stepping up onto the table with a grin. He briefly eyes her attire critically, then nods in approval. “Stunning. Love the bodysuit. Remind me of your name again?”

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐧.

       “  you're  not  on  the  bottom  of  my  list  !  i  just  have  studies  and  projects  and  reading  to  do .  ”  though  as  she  heard  her  list  down  all  the  tedious  work  she  had  to  get  done,  she  found  the  idea  of  letting  loose  in  a  party  much  more  appealing  —  oh  !  and  the  thought  of  missing  out  on  a  good  time  left  her  with  a  sick  feeling .  “  ugh,  okay .   i’m  going,  i’m  going .  i  hate  you  .  ”  she  glares  at  him,  but  her  eyes  bore  this  playful  glint  and  her  lips  curved  into  a  smile  that  betrayed  her  statement .  “  you’re  helping  me  with  my  work  after  this  though .  ”  and  before  he  could  talk  his  way  out  of  it,  she  added,  with  a  triumphant  smile,  no  less  :  “  non-negotiable  . ”

"I can’t believe I’ve lived to see the day that I’m ranked below your studies.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, but whoops triumphantly when she agrees to come only moments later. “You can hate me aaaaaaall you like while we’re off having the absolute best time,” Jamie tells her brightly, tossing her pillow back onto her bed. Non-negotiable? Oof. He supposes it’s only fair, but that doesn’t change the fact that the sheer idea of doing actual studying is always reminiscent of stepping on a lego barefoot. “...What kind of work are we talking about? And are you sure I’m the best option to help? Surely it’ll take twice as long and be three-times as mediocre if I’m your academic life-line.” 

She liked to think that all of the advice he’d been handing out that afternoon fell into the category of good advice, though she appreciated his honesty. Not everybody could be right about everything all of the time, though some people, particularly university students, she’d discovered, often pretended that they were.

“I’ve learned from experiences,” she assured him, like being overcharged at Zara and not being able to prove it, for example. “No, it’s not offensive,” she insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand. It was fair to say that she wasn’t easily offended but Naomi found it strange to think that anybody would be offended by somebody asking where they were from. She was curious to know where all of her new classmates were from. Did they come from other states? Other cities? Countries far away? She wanted to meet somebody from Alaska, especially. It seemed like such an unusual place to be, though she understood it was considered a part of the U.S. for some reason. “I’m from Germany, in the North,” she explained, convinced that nobody would recognise her hometown even if she named it. “- and you? You are local?” she asked curiously, charmed by his interest.

Naomi chuckled at his joke sincerely, “The last time I checked, it was not,” she assured him, the American way of life was different to that in Europe but surely not that different. She couldn’t remember the ‘other one’ either, if she’d ever learned it at all, “-and that’s why I’m never going to be anybody’s doctor,” she concurred, “I’m not a masochist,” she added, her skin crawling at even the thought of having to sit through a university lecture about titration or similar. “What do you study?” she had to assume that it wasn’t chemistry but some people were hard, if not impossible to predict. 

"Germany!! Oh, nice. I’ve been to Frankfurt and Munich-- nowhere else, though, and I was busy the whole time so I didn’t have a chance to properly sightsee like I would’ve wished,” he gushes with enthusiasm. “Didn’t know a word of German, though, which did make things semi-difficult. Well, that’s not quite true-- I knew two words. Ja and nein. Mostly did a lot of miming and praying that people spoke English. Ha. Are you freshly from Germany? I don’t remember ever seeing you around before.” Not that he knows everyone on campus, obviously, but he does tend to make his way around.  

Is he local? It’s funny, thinking about how long you have to live somewhere before you can stake that claim. “I’ve been here the better part of two years now, so I suppose I could call myself local at this point,” Jamie muses, delighted at the realization. “But no, originally from across the pond like you--Brighton-and-Hove, in East Sussex, United Kingdom, most well-known for our gorgeous rock beaches and aggressive seagulls.” But he does love it here, barring certain quirky American-isms. Like their entire political system, and their sub-par biscuits.  

Her comment about chemistry being masochistic makes him grin. Clearly they’re of the same mind on that account. “I’m humanities-adjacent, you could say-- dance major, performance track. That falls under that broader category of the human experience, yeah?” 

Tomislav was just waiting in line at the mess hall, with a little cardboard square full of chicken tenders and fries and gazed around the room, committing his new home to memory, with his mind wandering before he glanced over at the other, hearing a voice.  “Clubbing?  There’s clubs in this place?” he asked, confused, speaking as if he had any experience in one.  “Oh, I’m not um, I’m not old enough to go clubbing, I’m sorry, but it sounds like a really fun time!  Are boots in a club a good idea, though, like, with all the dancing?  Won’t your feet hurt?”

“I don’t know about clubs in the plural sense, but there’s at least one within Haddon Creek city limits, and I assure you that its aesthetics are unparalleled.” The lights? The haze? Perfection. Jamie has to laugh when chicken-tender-wielding student states that he’s not old enough to go, though. “Nor am I-- but that’s the point of fake ID’s, eh?” Or pleading that you’d forgotten yours, which works half the time anyway. "If you’d like to come, I’m sure we can work something out. Because you’re very correct-- it is wickedly fun, and you shouldn’t miss out just because you’ve a baby face.” He resists the urge to reach out and poke the other student’s nose; it’s too adorable that he’s concerned about Jamie’s feet hurting. “They’re new, so probably, but beauty is pain, and I’m no stranger to dancing with a bit of heel. Better than being flat-footed. What do you say, do you want to come along?” 

“Uh-huh,” she she uttered, observing what was a pretty good point on the male’s behalf and one that Naomi hadn’t quite considered herself. Did she have an extra book or had she been short changed? She wondered as she mentally countered the number of books cradled in the crook of her elbow. “I think I will check my list before I start handing other people’s books out,” she conceded with a chuckle, she hoped that if she had any missing books, somebody wasn’t on the other side of the campus selling them off for a profit.

She’d already spent more than enough time waiting in line in the bookstore that day, she didn’t feel particularly inclined to spend any more of it in the same manner. Especially if there was going to be an influx of new students and especially when the whether outside was so nice. “More good advice, you have a lot of it, don’t you?” she complimented sincerely, he seemed like he knew what he was talking about and she appreciated having somebody like that around. 

“Well I’m a smart thinker like that, you see,” she assured him, tapping her temple with her index and middle finger, “I put the receipt in my purse straight away, just in case,” she explained, she hated the word ‘receipt’, it was so strangely spelled and she always pronounced the P, forgetting that it was silent. As Jamie craned his neck, Naomi opened her arms a little, allowing the books to slide into a more visible display, “I’m supposed to be in humanities,” she explained, “You can see which one is lost, hm?” she offered with a chuckle, assuming the odd one out was obvious to anybody that that had a basic reading ability. 

"Some of it, anyway,” he agrees cheerfully. Honestly, he knows he mostly loves to hear himself talk and tends to give advice whether he knows anything about the subject or not; whatever the topic, he can have an opinion at the very least, which he’s never shy of sharing. 

Jamie grins when she shares that she’s already saved the receipt instead of simply tossing it out with the bag. That was smart. “Well done. I don’t think I would have been as lucky, there.” The way she says the word ‘receipt,’ though, piques his curiosity further. “Where are you from, originally? No offense meant, but I assume it’s not here, though I adore your pronunciation.” 

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐧.

        “  can’t  we  just  go  boot  shopping  instead  ?  ”  she  whines  into  a  pillow  before  sitting  up,  leaning  her  back  against  the  headboard,  to  look  at  jamie .  “  oh,  don’t  be  so  dramatic.  ”  she  laughed,  shaking  her  head  then  threw  the  pillow  at  him,  in  a  lousy  attempt  to  knock  him  out  of  the  chair .  “  for  the  record  i  am  not  abandoning  you.  i  simply  have  ‘priorities’ .  ”  she  stuck  her  nose  in  the  air  playfully,  arms  crossed  against  her  chest .  it  was  only  a  matter  of  seconds  until  she’d  agree  to  his  proposition .  hope  could  never  say  no  to  the  people  she  adored .

"There’s more than enough time to do both,” he points out in response to her complaint. Shopping in the afternoon, then clubbing in the evening. A perfect plan. He swiftly reaches out to catch the pillow she lobs at him, bringing it to his chest. “And I, your dear friend, live at the bottom of your priority list,” he sighs. “I see how it is. Well, I suppose it’s your choice, but-- you know you’ll regret it if you don’t come. I’ll text you a photo-a-minute of how much fun we’re having without you until you change your mind and show up anyway. So-- save us both the trouble and just agree to come without all that nonsense?” 

J A M I E .

“  never  too  early  ,  darling  ,  ”  vivienne  responds  ,  more  interested  in  her  reading  .  she  has  already  mapped  out  the  schedule  for  the  rest  of  the  week  ,  and  that’s  leaving  contingencies  in  case  other  plans  fall  through  or  need  rescheduling  .  "  but  i’m  afraid  i  won’t  be  able  to  bear  witness  to  your  revelry  .  "  she  sighs  ,  entirely  for  effect  ,  though  the  gesture  is  not  unkind  .

Jamie pouts good-naturedly-- not that it’ll probably have any effect, because she’s busy reading instead of paying attention to him like she should be. He settles into the chair across from her, leaning forward and tapping out a syncopated rhythm on the table. “Oh, really. What could possibly be more important than bearing witness to my revelry?” He’s joking. Mostly. 

“there’s definitely no such thing as too early in the school year for clubbing, and if there is we’re not breaking the news to the new clothes that i bought with such things in mind — i have to wear them before the season is over,” came their reply as they thought about the shoes and dresses that were waiting in their room. “definitely, i mean ankle boots? they deserve to see the light of the den. are we going to pre-game?”

He can’t wait to see their new clothes; the anticipation is real. Maybe Lottie can help suggest what he should wear to appropriately accompany his boots as well... he has some ideas, of course, but he’d trust their fashion advice over his own any day. "I knew you’d understand.” He playfully sniffs and wipes away an invisible tear, as though overcome with emotion-- then leans forward with greater seriousness. “Yes to a pre-game. The only question is where. Your room or mine? Mine’s a mess somehow already, though I’m loathe to invite others to yours without permission.” 

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐧.

         “  oh,  james,  darling  !  you  scared  me  !  ”  she  gasped  accompanied  by  a  dramatic  hand  on  over  heart,  seeing  as  he  entered  her  room  with  all  that  extra  confidence  those  ankle  boots  gave  him .  “  my,  my .  those  look  amazing  !  i  might  have  to  go  out  and  get  myself  a  pair .  you  don’t  mind  being  boot  twins,  no  ?  ”  at  the  mention  of  a  party,  she  flung  herself  on  her  bed  with  a  sigh .  “  don’t  make  me  go,  please .  ”  she  put  on  her  best  puppy  dog  eyes .  “  please.  ”

Jamie grins and does a single performative twirl when she compliments his boots. “i would love nothing more than to be boot twins,” he reassures her. Easily making himself well at home, he melts into Hope’s desk chair as she flings herself onto her own bed. He sighs with equal dramatics. “Of course I won’t make you go, Hopie, but I do want to know why you’re abandoning me in my time of need.” He stares at her expectantly, refusing to fall prey to her huge puppy-dog eyes.

“Ah, shit,” Naomi cursed softly as she juggled a stack of fresh text books between her arms. She’d decide to take a quick peek at them before returning to her room, only to discover that there was a book titled “Chemistry: The Molecular Nature of Matter and Change“ among them. Surely an error, unless the American higher education system considered general chemistry and laboratory skills essential to the study of humanities. 

“Hey-” she greeted the first person to cross her path. She wasn’t shy about chatting to strangers, she never had been, “I just picked up a book order and I think I got somebody else’s book,” perhaps, “-or a wrong book anyway,” she conceded, “Do you know who I talk to or if I can just give it to somebody?” she asked plainly, deciding it was better to deal with it rather than let it collect dust or serve as a door stop in her bedroom. 

“I’d be happy just to leave it in the nearest chem lab with a note that says ‘your lucky day’ on it but I don’t know if somebody already paid for this,” she noted. Textbooks were notoriously expensive and she was pretty sure that science books were just about the worst.

Jamie looks up at the young woman who’s greeted him. Ooof, wrong order, apparently. It’s not the first book order mix-up and it won’t be the last. “Oh, yeah,” he tells her with a helpful nod. “I wouldn’t leave it lying around anywhere-- you might need it as leverage to get your right book, unless you’ve got all of them already. Just take it back to the campus book store, and the chipper little workers at the desk will get it all sorted. Did you save the bag? Bets are on that there’s an order receipt in there.” 

He continues on without even pausing to breathe. “Though between you and I, I would not go to the bookstore today, as all the freshmen will be very studiously picking theirs up before their first day of class, and the line probably stretches from here to Buffalo by now. Drop by right before close and you’ll have no issues.” He twists his neck nosily to try to get a glimpse of the books in her arms. “What’d you get saddled with, then?” 

“She could sleep on my bed,” Dmitry pointed out, “or on her cat bed, or on her other cat bed. She has so many places to nap, and I bet if I let her in the closet she’d stop caring about getting in. I think she’s annoyed that there’s one thing I don’t let her do.”

“Nooooo, but don’t you know? Cat beds aren’t nearly as comfortable as a pile of knitwear. Or cotton, or... you know, whatever.” His eyes crinkle in amusement and ponders his statement about the cat-- Mittens?-- only trying to get into the closet because it’s a challenge. “I’d bet you’re right. If she’s only doing it because she’s not supposed to, please reverse-psycholo-gize the cat.”