𝕊𝕄𝕀𝕃𝔼 / 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓮

If confidence really is key, than Owen has been missing out on a lot so far. He met Ayla in one of his gen ed classes he honestly considered never showing up to. But, now he’s glad he did. She was distractingly beautiful and surprisingly didn’t immediately laugh him out of the room when he struck up a conversation. She was one of those girls who he just felt natural around. It felt like the beginning of something…special. “Ayla—” he says and shakes his head with a laugh. They walk across the packed quad. “Campus is dangerous at—” he glances down at his wrist. “6:37…Plus I’m heading that way anyways.” He said tossing her a smile.

/*

.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @carlsonfm​​

          the room has started spinning rather inconveniently and it makes it difficult for her to keep her balance in the stylish, low-heeled black boots her roommate had managed to wheedle her into. she’s lost the roommate in question quite some time ago though it’s hard to say exactly WHEN, time slipping away with each pass of burning liquid down her throat. it feels late though, and ayla gets the sense somewhere through the foggy haze of her head that she should probably be getting back to her dorm  — how exactly she’s going to make that happen is a problem that hasn’t yet been solved. she makes slow progress towards the edge of the room until she’s halted unwillingly by a hand on her waist, a thumb brushing the exposed skin between her top and her skirt in a way that makes her shudder and NOT in a good way. a frown tugs pink lips down, and she shoves at the stranger with what she deems a full-hearted effort, but comes across as more half-hearted thanks to the effects of alcohol in her bloodstream.      “ stop. getoffme, ”     she mumbles, still pushing, but the hands don’t retreat. they’re still moving forward somewhere, and she stumbles a bit for what feels like the hundredth time.     “ stop. ”     she repeats. that unwanted touch on her waist is still there, and creeping toward places she really doesn’t want them to be. she wonders, yet again, where her roommate got off too.

          ayla’s rather GOOD at fending off advances — it’s something she prides herself in doing rather kindly, or at least with only malice implied. but owen seems to not get the message, not matter how many times it’s strongly implied, and ayla isn’t in the business of being openly negative, especially to those who haven’t really done anything to her ; maybe in the end it was simply pity that kept her from putting a permanent end to this ( though that might be what’s best for her sanity ).     “ owen — ”     the sun has slunk below the horizon, a beautiful sunset watercolored over the tops of the campus buildings, the kind that people hurry to pull out their phones to capture ; ayla’s never been the type to photograph sunsets though. a hand comes up to tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear, voice almost condescendingly patient,     “ — it’s not that late ; i know my own way back. i’m not going to get LOST. ”

        glossed  lips  turn  up  into  a  smile  ,  the  pout  leaving  her  face  now  that  ayla’s  agreed.  “  thank  you  so  much.  i  really  don’t  know  what  i’d  do  with  you  !  ”  she  has  used  random  excuses  to  get  ayla  to  help  her  before  ,  but  this  time  it  wasn’t  something  made  up  on  a  whim.  the  photographer  that  agreed  to  help  cancelled  on  her  just  a  few  hours  earlier  ,  and  halle  was  desperate  to  find  someone  else. “  the  photos  are  due  by  the  end  of  the  week  and  i  could  have  done  it  myself  ,  but  it  obviously  never  looks  as  good  as  when  you  do  it.  ”  halle’s  been  obsessed  with  ayla’s  photography  skills  since  they  first  worked  on  a  project  together.  she  captured  her  designs  in  just  the  way  that  halle  had  envisioned  ,  so  obviously  halle  wanted  to  work  with  her  whenever  possible.  “  yeah,  i’m  fine  with  moving  it  back.  whatever  works  best  for  you.  ”  shoulders  lifting  in  a  delicate  shrug  ,  she  took  a  sip  of  the  cup  of  hot  tea  in  her  hand  ,  the  other  wrapped  tightly  around  her  sketch  book.  “  unless  a  miracle  happens  and  i  can  find  someone  to  model  by  then  ,  it’ll  just  be  me.  it’s  not  ideal  ,  but  i  guess  that’s  what  happens  when  you  wait  until  the  last  minute  to  do  everything.  ”

-

          ( TIME SKIP )          ayla strides around the studio barefoot, timberland boots streaked with mud left at the door along with her uncomfortably damp socks as to not mar the perfectly PRISTINE floors. brown eyes almost GOLDEN in the lighting take in the unfamiliar space, the gears in her brain grinding slowly to the right mindset. her camera clicks as she takes a test shot of the empty set, a frown drawing at her lips as she's evidentally not happy with something. a chipped navy nail turns a dial a minute angle, her thumb effortlessly toggling between sets with a different button.     " soooooo — "     she says, the single drawn-out syllable meant to catch halle's attention, though her gaze doesn’t lift to find the girl in question. her hands pause in their fiddling to push back hair falling from her messy bun, probably nearing a state where the messiness fades from chic to just, well, messy.     " — tell me a bit about this project. what's the vibe you wanna convey ?? "

            to  say  that  roo  was  frustrated  and  restless  was  a  severe  understatement  .  he  wasn’t  used  to  being  on  the  sidelines  during  games  ,  it  was  a  tease  that  they  let  him  take  part  in  practices  and  scrimmages  ;  the  early  mornings  were  nothing  compared  to  friday  night  games  under  the  stadium  lights  ,  adrenaline  from  the  crowd  fuelling  him  to  push  another  yard -  faster  ,  faster  ,  faster  .  the roar  of  the  crowd  and  his  teammates  rushing  up  to  him  in  victory  drowning  out  the  buzz  that  the  game  had  ended  and  they  had  yet  again  won  .  he’d  stood  up  ,  sat  back  down  ,  knee bouncing  as  he  watched  everything  unfold  and  watched  his  replacement  make  every  wrong  move  he  wouldn’t  do  -  and  perhaps  he  was  being  to  harsh  on  him  ,  but  he  couldn’t  help  himself  .   he  rotated  between  that  and  pacing  back  and  forth  – coach  shaking  his  head  as  soon  as  roo  so  much  as  breathed  in  his  direction ,  knowing  exactly  what  he  was  going  to  say  ‘  put  me  the  fuck  in  coach  .  please  . ’  it  was  practically  torture  for  him  as  he  sat  back  on  the  bench  ,  hair  damp  from  the  rain  ,  getting  back  under  the  umbrella  .  there’s  a  shift  on  the  bench  as  he’s  joined  by  ayla  ,  and  despite  the  situation  he  smiles  –  the  girl  momentarily  distracting  him  from  the  game  they’re  about  to  lose  .  he  turns  his  body  towards  her  ,  watching  as  dark  strands  fall  over  her  shoulders  .  he’s  tempted  to  push  a  few  stands  away  from  her  face  but  refrains  and  instead  feigns  hurt  before  rolling  his  eyes  ,  “  i’m  the  VICTIM  here .  ”  he  says  ,  carding  his  fingers  through  his  hair  ,  roughly  mussing  it  .  the  words  come  out  dryly  but  he  doesn’t  let  it  show  that  there  may  be  some  truth  to  it  – punished  for  a  crime  he  didn’t  commit  ,  but  he’d  take  the  fall  again  if  he  had  to  .  he  lifts  his  shoulder  in  a  shrug  ,   “  try  FIVE  .  ”  he  says  ,  letting  a  breath  out  before  his  eyes  swivel  back  towards  the  field  ,  watching  momentarily  before he’s  focused  back  on  ayla  .  “  we  both  KNOW   how  this  game  is  going  to  end  ,  i’m  sure  you’ve  got  at  least  ONE  good  shot  .  if  you’re  cold  you  can  probably  head  out    .  ”  he  tilts  his  head  towards  the  exit  for  the  lockers  ,  “  i’ve  got  a  SPARE  jacket  in  my  locker  if  you  need  one  .  ”  he  lightly  bumps  his  shoulder  against  hers  ,  dipping  his  head  down  slightly  to  meet  her  eyes  ,  “   i  need  you  at  your  BEST  when  i  get  back  on  the  field  .  can’t  have  you  getting  sick  .  ”

-

         ayla holds his gaze with an unimpressed air for a moment before her head turns to face the field once more. she can do the math easily, and given anyone else, she might have very little sympathy for — but she well knows the situation and it's not one she agrees with ( though, she supposes she should be thankful roo is here at all ).     " five weeks is one hell of a cold, roo, "     she says glumly ; there's little heat in her voice though, and it feels like maybe she's not actually talking about herself, sub-meanings running amuck in the simple phrase. she considers the fact that FIVE WEEKS sick might not be so bad if it got her out of games like this actually, but sadly ( or perhaps FORTUNATELY ) she has other commitments to tend to that wouldn't be so fun sick. the plastic protectively wrapped around her beloved camera rustles as she hugs it closer to her stomach. not for the first time she laments roo's staunch loyalty : perhaps impressively his greatest asset and FATAL FLAW at the same time.

         " i'm not cold ; i'm annoyed — "      she begins matter-of-fact. her body betrays her a bit on that correction though. as if roo's voice had been enough to call complete attention to the fact, she very acutely becomes aware of how uncomfortable she is, even if by the numbers the temperature isn't quite nearly CHILLY yet ( consider this still SUMMER by her new england standards ). the denim of her jeans had soaked through before the first quarter had even finished, the dark fabric of her crop top doing little as far as protection either ; they're both clinging like cold compresses against her body and absolutely USELESS when wind cuts down the field in chilling gusts. a muscle in her jaw twitches under her skin as she grits her teeth in a valiant effort not to shiver. roo, she realizes, feels like he's practically RADIATING warmth, as if he was always just seconds away from being removed from a long day on the beach. it's temping to lean in just a bit to steal a bit more from him, but she remains stubbornly where she is, busying her hands with rewrapping the plastic around her camera.     " — and i don't give up. i'll just do it from here where it’s DRIER. "     and the company better, not that she’d ever admit that.

          “ i mean, i guess i can — if you really can’t find anyone else, ”     ayla agrees reluctantly as she stares up at the much more put-together girl. she never did really enjoy shooting models as much as she did candids or sports, no matter how good people said she was at it. it was just too EASY, in her opinion ; too predictable, too boring. but ayla has also had a problem with telling people no sometimes, especially when they were giving her the look halle currently is ( sadly it works more often than it should, considering this isn’t the first time she’d be filling a favor for some mysterious photographer who had to cancel on the beautiful girl ). her hand tightens on the strap of her backpack, a glance stolen down at her watch, waterproof and cheap and from target.     “ you might have to shift the time later, though — ”     she adds,     “ football practice runs until seven and then i need to grab something to eat. is your model gunna be okay with that ?? ”     a brief pause, considering.     “ — or — are you modeling your own designs again ?? ”     it’s not a judgmental tone in the least ; just a valid question from a photographer — besides, no one could really dispute halle had the looks and the body for modelling.

          ayla is always very united states post office in her approach to her work : neither snow , nor rain , nor gloom of night.... yadda yadda yadda — but she really fucking hates rain. by halftime, the torrential downpour has receded to the occasional sprinkle ; the damage has already been done though. she already more closely resembles a drowned rat, her bun already inherently messy, flattened to a tangled mess that’s going to be a bitch to try to brush out later. it doesn’t help that this might be the dullest game she’s shot in her entire life so it feels like it’s not even coming close to worth being here and getting soaked in the process. ( it’s all part of the gig : she knows this somewhere deep down, but isn’t up to dragging up logic right now ). her normally sunny disposition has dulled considerably, irritation a culmination of the weather, a terrible game, and the second string quarterback winking at her on his way off as if he’d done anything vaguely interesting for her to capture. it takes a lot for her to be the better person and not to flip him off.     “ i blame you for this, ”      she grumbles, having all but stomped down the sideline to where roo sits, budging in next to him to fit under the umbrella. a wince escapes her as she tugs the band out of her hair, wet strands falling ungracefully in tangled snarls down on her shoulders.     “ at least you’d make it worth turning into a drowned rat. when are you back again ?? next week ?? — two weeks ?? ”     her tone suggests that two weeks is just not acceptable.

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

          [  simay barlas  .  20  .  female  .  she/her  ] just saw 𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 dragging their suitcase up the steps to 𝐁𝐀𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐑  .  good luck living with 𝐇𝐄𝐑  ,  i hear that that they’re 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂  ,  𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄-𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑  ,  𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄-𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃  &  𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓  .  makes sense the chose that house now  ,  doesn’t it  ?  let’s hope this new living situation doesn’t affect their 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 year of 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘   [  oliver  .  22  .  they/them  .  est  ]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

          sports run deep in your family. your grandfather, your father, your older brother : the triple threat of sports, each cutting their way through their own league ( the mlb, the nhl, and the nfl — RESPECTIVELY ). you were never as gifted as any of them athletically — good enough, smart enough, but nothing more than a decent athlete that could hold your own. no, instead you picked up a camera and this is how you fit in.

          AESTHETICS: she is like the summer nights when the stars are far away and the fire is dying out, the sun’s warmth a comforting memory and all the potential of tomorrow ready to be spread out before you ( worn out timberland boots, pink lipstick, short and flowy dresses, fireflies in a jar, a denim jacket covered in patches, the heat of a sparkler against your fingers, do no harm but take no shit, coy smiles because you want something, the smell of balsam and pine needles )