* 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡 / 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲

                    It was mid-February at the campus gym and it was lively. But a stunt of something hubris and boyish grabbed ahold of the group of five men as they lazed over to the weights, worthy of eye rolls as they passed the other machines and surely they got them. They were loud-talking and laughing, something haughty and certainly testosterone-driven as the stockier one in front was retelling a story from a semi-formal a year ago, how a drunk Zeta Tau girl’s tits fell out of her dress while she was climbing the Howie the Hawk statue outside the student center. A dig, a string of laughs, and then a few shoves persued amongst those in the front, borderline obnoxious, but the look of them could’ve hushed any malice: tall, lean, athletic–– a few already bare-chested and flush from their workouts. Garrett was one of them, lingering in the back, only mildly diverted by the small group, made up of his teammates and his fraternity brothers, but not nearly as involved as the rest of them were. The brunette, meditative in comparison had his shirt tucked into his athletic shorts, and he was pushing back his dampened hair just as one of the others in the middle said: ‘those girls over there are something else–’. 

                    As though common sense had evaporated and libido had taken its place, they all turned to take in the sheer presence of the group of women who were congregating around the stretching station. Garrett included. But he stalled for a minute as he recognized one and he recognized her all too well, and ten feet away must’ve not been far enough because he noticed them all lookup, right at them. He shuffled, the group dispersing to machines, nonchalant before he could even dare make eye-contact with Nora, but he, for whatever reason, wanted to talk to her. It hadn’t ever smoothed over, though he’d tried, and he turned rigidly: a failed attempt at concealment, as if the mirrored wall wasn’t already giving away his discomfort, and debated between ignoring her or saying something. He didn’t have to think about it to know which was the right answer.

     *  as  one  of  four  co  -  captains  for  the  valorous  field  hockey  team  ,  nora  had  a  certain  responsibility  to  keep  up  appearances  ,  both  on  &  off  the  field  .  this  included  the  early  mornings  resided  in  the  first  class  facility  ,  now  defiled  with  the  university’s  athletes  &  the  brunette  found  herself  occupying  the  treadmill  for  her  two  mile  warm  up  ,  only  to  then  work  on  her  core  for  the  remainder  of  her  session  .  her  toughest  competitor  was  herself  at  the  end  of  the  day  ,  her  mother’s  nonchalance  to  those  who  lived  below  her  comprehension  influenced  her  disposition  all  too  well  .  in  the  midst  of  the  winter  semester  ,  nora  had  a  schedule  of  recommendation  to  leave  a  permanent  reputation  on  her  second  to  last  collegiate  year  &  her  desired  time  was  spent  in  her  foundation  :  greek  row  ,  classes  ,  field  hockey  .  a  fraction  of  her  ample  time  to  sleep  ,  however  ,  was  taken  over  by  the  infatuation  that  a  certain  lacrosse  player  &  her  shared  in  privacy  ,  until  recent  events  of  public  advancements  &  even  ,  a  few  dates  to  solidify  their  status  .

Garrett: Hi

Garrett: Are you ok? I just wanted to see if you were ok

Garrett: I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt your feelings

Nora: sticks and stones

Nora: everyone's entitled to opinions

Nora: you just had a lot more to say and hey, now both our thoughts are out there

Garrett: Hey

                    His blue eyes, heavied with something that resembled gunmetal fell aglow under the warm lighting of the library. And they were settled on her. Not anyone else, not anything else, and though he did not particularly like the subject matter at hand they were still soft and hooded–– unalarmed like they usually were. Like they had surely been the night before when he implied his goodnight. Bedroom eyes. They had gotten him into trouble just as they had gotten him out of it and he hadn’t a single idea on the wattage they delivered. His eyes on hers, and they tried to maintain, even as she trailed off and began trying to get around him. He stopped her, deliberately stepping in front of her and lifting his hands to her arms. Only briefly did they hold her in a full attempt to stop her, and he felt frustrated in the lack of civilness proceeding with the conversation, “Just five minutes, Nora, please–” And his tone came off a little sterner than he had hoped it would, but he wanted to talk. He’d walked all this way to find the respect of asking her earnest questions in person and he was decided on saying them. He held her there for a moment, his head slightly lowering on his neck to try and look at her, something resolute and yet agitated about him. He was a paradox with a wound, and he began to wonder why he was there. Were they even really friends? Was there anything to fix, and if there was a resolution would it be worth it? So far he was only here for selfish reasons, and as his hands eased from her arms, as he eased, fingertips brushing past her elbows for a splinter of a second with the gentleness of a temple dancer or tree branches swaying in the wind, he saw her.

                    Sad, maybe, she was. It was certainly clear that she didn’t want to talk to him and yet she had agreed to and in that he found thankfulness. Her freckles. His eyes glanced across the bridge of her nose, constellations to be made amongst those light brown dots and yet he felt guilty looking at her with such attention to detail. His gaze stopped on her lips, her full, pretty lips and he waited for her to speak, and his head slightly tilted to the side. He looked genuinely concerned for a few seconds, with knotted brows and pressed lips and heavy, devoted eyes. But he finally looked up, and whatever he was holding broke, eyes mindlessly skating over her as he took a step back, “I just wanna ask you something, and I do deserve an answer,” He brought his hands to his front pockets, burying them as he looked back down at her, standing a mere foot away, “Why didn’t you just–” He slowly shook his head, “…–tell the truth this morning?” There was something intimate about how they looked, leaned up against the books, their own aisle, their own section, diverged and in their very own singular conversation that you could only sit back and be mesmerized in trying to guess what it pertained. He hated that he felt slighted and that he was being selfish and that he didn’t want to apologize for being cold earlier that morning though he knew he should. Even though deep down he wanted to. The word ‘lie’ felt too serious; too damning, and he didn’t want to damn Nora. Even now as he wanted to be mad he couldn’t. His eyes skated down her nose. He looked for an answer; he waited, “Why’d you not tell the truth?” He knew she knew what he was referencing. The kiss.

         his  touch  kept  her  from  brushing  past  &  nora  held  her  books  closer  to  her  cleavage  ,  nude  sandals  dipping  into  the  thin  carpeting  beneath  as  if  the  single  movement  allowed  her  to  continue  standing  without  a  falter  .  her  back  now  stagnant  against  the  shelf  ,  a  book’s  spine  divulging  into  the  fabrication  of  her  once  ,  soft  blue  dress  that  now  felt  stiff  from  her  guilt  succumbing  her  physique  .  garrett  stood  tall  to  her  side  ,  concealing  her  from  the  audience  they  had  drew  since  he  arrived  &  it  felt  all  too  familiar  to  that  night  .  last  night  .  ‘  garrett  ,  ’  her  tone  soft  ,  however  ,  like  a  nail  awaiting  it’s  placement  her  sincerity  disappeared  .  ‘  it  would  become  real  .  all  of  it  ,  the  kiss  .  .  .  us  wanting  each  other  .  john  &  you  ,  if  i  could  take  away  last  night  i  would  .  every  single  thing  ,  i’d  wish  it  gone  if  i  could  .  ’  nora  didn’t  mean  it  ,  not  in  the  very  slightest  ;  the  significance  of  her  azure  hues  lingering  at  their  feet  enough  to  be  of  concern  of  how  valid  her  statement  actually  was  for  them  .  ‘  for  the  sanity  of  chandler  &  myself  .  ’  the  president  had  no  reason  for  the  acetous  tendency  those  words  carried  ,  only  for  the  annoyance  they  left  each  other  with  earlier  that  morning  .         

                    Had they hooked up, had they not–– the galling theatrics of it all had buzzed around him all morning like a gnat, and it would’ve almost been fitting if he’d plucked a flower and began removing the petals one by one. He was fucked, fucked up, and because of the prior two: pissed. The vexation that had planted it’s rooted into his stomach though had been primarily caused by himself, but where it sprouted he couldn’t help but see Nora. Nora Elaine Ainsworth. He’d taken it upon himself to find her full name, in the Greek life archive locked away behind school logins and tedious ‘human verifications’. Nora Elaine Ainsworth. He repeated it again, and he realized she came looking just as her name suggested: bijou and idyllic. His own name clung like perspiration–– like the southern bayou air on a summer day, and if her name was the margarine his was the knife. What was her deal, anyway? He didn’t like it when he was fibbed to, and loyalty had proven to possibly be the most ornamented quality in his books. The previous night was grey, but he remembered the luminescent kaleidoscope that had been her kindness and her womanly graciousness; the way his shirt had shaped to her chest, and how it hadn’t at her thighs, and he stopped himself there, for if he thought about it too much more he’d get himself upset.

                    She had told him one thing the morning after, and then his friends had said another, with sneers and pats on the back and video proof in hand, and it was as if he were watching someone else. The man in the video was not him. But it was him. And he wished, for many reasons, that he could’ve remembered it all better. There was concern in not being able to know, and if he was to be intimate with another woman he wanted to be entirely there. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but a part of him wished he could’ve remembered just to know what it felt like kissing Nora Elaine Ainsworth. Just once. Only once. And now, as he marched the library, his hands in the pocket of his hood, he felt his forehead begin to itch. The cut, just above his brow was bothering him, and he suddenly felt the urge to peel off the stained bandage. The warm air of the big, tall-ceiling library diverted him, and he pressed through the foyer with a miserable look, removing his hands from his pocket so he could look at his phone. The study area, on the second floor, that’s where she said she’d be, and he pressed on, his mind finding a blank note for the time being, not intentionally but because mentally he couldn’t muster something new. He focused on his pace, and he noticed he was moving quicker than usual, and so he slowed, though taking the rounded steps up two at a time. His anticipation deflated as he stepped up and didn’t see her. Just a few scattered and empty-faced students.

                    He was growing even more annoyed, and it nearly showed, and though the male was usual poise, events had accumulated and he began to feel himself collapsing. He turned and he winced; he felt on the verge of anger, but then he saw the back of her head, between the bookshelves, and he knew it was her because he simply just knew. The male found composure, his face relaxing, his shoulders flattening, and he approached, suddenly trying to maintain the awareness that they were in a library. He shouldn’t have agreed to meet her here but he didn’t feel like pulling her from the place she was at–– it didn’t feel worth it. Garrett came up, standing at the end of the aisle, five feet from her, and if she had not realized it was him surely she had acknowledged the figure that had come up to her right, “Hey,” He greeted, almost with uncertainty, “I wanted to talk, uh– can we,” The male glanced around restlessly, noticing how hushed it was, and how he felt anything he did would be echoed and broadcasted, and he sat on the thought that he was dreading what was about to come, “–are we allowed to do that here?”

          coming  across  the  selected  title  nora  had  set  her  sights  on  finding  from  the  very  beginning  ,  her  brunet  tresses  fell  into  a  soft  curtain  to  her  features  as  her  topaz  hues  traced  the  contents  .  there  was  light  laughter  nearby  &  then  ,  nothing  as  if  a  presence  evaded  the  privacy  of  the  library  &  brought  with  it  ,  hushed  talkings  .  regarding  the  sudden  silence  ,  her  hues  followed  up  from  the  line  she  now  kept  with  her  finger  between  the  thin  pages  to  see  him  .  the  night  returned  ,  in  a  faint  recollection  of  closeness  &  the  intimate  way  he  made  her  feel  heavenly  divine  ,  like  no  time  had  passed  &  her  neck  familiarized  with  the  reticent  emotions  &  the  soft  nature  of  his  lips  .  his  appearance  seemed  as  vulnerable  as  the  morning  she  left  ,  noticing  his  unkept  bandage  &  she  resisted  the  pull  to  mend  it  .  moments  passed  &  nora  realized  she  hadn’t  paid  a  single  word  to  him  ,  like  she  was  a  statue  in  the  middle  of  the  library  .  her  frustration  prevailed  all  her  other  speakable  emotions  ,  pursed  lips  &  a  shift  of  her  physique  as  she  upheld  a  tear  before  it  even  glistened  her  hue  .  ‘  i  might  not  have  your  answers  ,  but  you  can  try  .  ’  nora’s  voice  flourished  with  disdain  ,  her  lips  moving  after  like  she  wanted  to  speak  on  other  terms  ,  but  instead  ,  kept  the  titled  reference  close  to  her  fitted  dress  as  she  walked  along  the  aisle  .

   with  the  night  of  plenary  regret  far  behind  her  ,  the  following  day  poured  into  the  scenery  before  her  as  nora  was  making  ample  time  in  quietly  snuck  into  her  very  own  sorority  house  .  the  president  would  disappear  for  a  moment’s  time  into  the  shared  bathroom  ,  water  consuming  her  fragile  physique  as  she  touched  her  shoulders  in  a  consoling  manner  with  her  knees  baring  her  chest  .  she  forbid  herself  from  falling  vulnerable  to  any  man  since  the  ridicule  of  her  early  high  school  career  at  the  hands  of  young  boys  threatening  her  reputation  over  a  minor  video  that  slipped  across  every  tangible  device  .  so  ,  nora  decided  in  that  moment  ,  with  water  spilling  over  her  nakedness  &  emotions  betraying  her  slept  -  in  foundation  ,  that  normalcy  is  what  she  had  done  best  .  no  more  putting  herself  out  there  for  other’s  hands  to  take  her  down  .  

                    And as he began to get up he felt her there, beneath him, around him–– and as her hand found his own torso and his arm wrapped around her shoulders all he could focus on was how lithe she felt. How resolute and yet how slender, and he offered a fraction of his weight for her baring, enough for him to be able to stand and look up and over and nod towards his bedroom door, “That one,” His eyes were half shut and lethargic, and he breathed out in a dull grunt as he began to walk. He found his own balance, making his way through his own door, the lamp adjacent to his bed having been left on, as was the fluorescent bathroom light–– his forgetfulness and negligent eagerness perhaps coming in handy this time around. He undid himself from her and met the end of his duvet, eyes on the cover. His digits steadied himself for the moment as he took a second to adjust and to think. Familiar surroundings flooded, and he instantly felt relieved, as though the ending to this night was just in view. His eyes had closed until she started speaking again, his back turned to her, he could hear her voice bouncing off the walls in what felt like a muffled hum. Nora. Nora was here. Mindlessly and solely through-the-motions he straightened, wobbly, and reached back and began to pull his shirt over his own head. He turned, the fabric brushing over his dark locks, displacing them only with the moment of friction.

                    His blue eyes found her feet and dragged up, lackadaisical, his brows furrowing in what either could’ve been read as perplexion or focus. His gaze stalled on her collar and then rose to her face as he pulled his shirt from his arms and dropped it, “I smell?” He asked, as if it were the most dumbfounding thing he’d heard, “You smell?” The male added, looking away now as if to consider and within a few seconds. It appeared he’d thought of something, slowly, and his wide shoulders dejected with a certain and hidden reality, his head tilting up, chin lifted, neck exposed, “…–– Fuck.” He swore sharply and breathily, and there would’ve been something sensual about it had the context been erased, but he instantly began to undo his belt, her comment on if he were to be sleeping in his clothes seemingly going over his head. He pushed his jeans down, sitting down on the end of his bed to pull them off of his ankles, and rickety he pushed himself back up. His right hand adjusted himself, walking toward the bathroom, and now openly in front of her he stood nearly nude, “You can clean up here–” He turned back around and his expression was tired as it was battered, “I have clothes,” The male added, and his second wind of energy seemed to have kickstarted; the man was on stupefied a mission only known to himself and his hospitality was kicking in, along with his natural and usual sober quality of clemency, “If you’re tired,” He gestured toward the bed, his hand moving up from his waistband to rub at his own chest, “–sleep.” And turning around, without missing a beat he mumbled, “And I have to piss.” 

                    After nearly ripping the shower curtain off in a misstep that almost sent him plundering down into tub he managed to turn the nozzle on and let it run as he used the restroom before hopping in to endure a three-minute shower where he’d done the bare minimum. Mid-bathe he suddenly remembered why he felt so haphazardly anguished and in need of resolute sobriety all of a sudden, and it wasn’t just because he was remembering how despairing it felt to be left by Chandler. He had work tomorrow. And in the inebriated thought-process of Garrett Shepherd somehow the wash of near-scalding water had the appeal of maybe just maybe wearing away the humiliation and the terrible feeling of inebriation. The more he thought about it all the more he wanted to retch and the more he wanted to retch the more he thought about it all. He resurfaced, back in his undergarment, feeling a little bit more measured but also a little bit more irritated, mentally and physically. He felt warm from the water and he needed to lay down, and as he wiped the last bit of condensation from his looked for Nora, whom he suddenly couldn’t decide was there as a guardian angel figment or not; if he wanted her there, or if he wanted her far away; if he wanted her–– someone next to him, to lay with him and hold him, or if he wanted nothing at all.

      while  the  male  stepped  out  of  the  room  to  tend  to  his  own  drunkenness  splendor  ,  nora  retrieved  her  phone  to  then  be  greeted  by  a  surfeit  of  messages  &  social  media  notifications  ,  that  it  made  her  stomach  swell  at  the  possibility  her  misery  would  start  before  the  morning  even  woke  .  or  maybe  the  sickening  feeling  came  from  the  lack  of  hydration  in  the  past  hours  ,  finding  a  stale  water  bottle  unopened  on  the  island  &  shoving  the  nervous  piece  lingering  in  her  throat  down  the  hatch  ,  so  to  speak  .  now  ,  her  lithe  clothing  felt  tighter  on  her  physique  than  it  had  earlier  &  she  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  collapse  onto  her  bed  with  reassurance  she  had  the  chance  to  lock  herself  in  from  the  campus’s  ridicule  .  why  she  assumed  that  high  school  was  meant  to  stay  hidden  in  her  closet  back  in chicago  ,  with  boxes  of  pictures  &  memorabilia  was  beyond  her  ,  because  it  only  snuck  up  underneath  her  nose  &  landed  her  the  reputation  soon  to  surpass  all  else  .  john  would  hunt  her  down  on  campus  ,  only  to  lunge  his  tongue  down  her  throat  &  protest  he  meant  nothing  of  the  harsh  parading  of  her  self-esteem  with  the  after  thought  to  intentionally  hurt  nora  .

                    He was beginning to find consciousness in ephemeral pieces, as you would with fallen leaves from an oak tree. Windy and scattered–– it made it precarious to tell if what was happening was either the heart of a dream or the rabbit hole to a nightmare and as he tried to recollect it felt like saying the alphabet backward: one point at a time. But he couldn’t remember. And now the present felt too seraphic. As though he were home. When he felt a warm pressure to his forehead his eyes fluttered open, weak and soft and his lashes only accentuated how fallible it was and how fragile, and when he looked over his brows came together in conjecture. Deliberately, he began to acknowledge who it was next to him, and it started with her chest: the curvature, the ornate and feminine top she was wearing, and then up, past a lithe, olive neck and a slenderly defined jaw. Her head was turned but his gaze, though marginal, took her in as he watched her face him and lean in, her hand slipping under his forehead. He inhaled sharply through his nose and shifted, reactively, her face, a matter of inches from his own, “Nora.” His eyes closed briefly as his hand laying limping over the side of the sofa moved and grabbed her wrist, “It’s okay.” He said smoothly; almost sweetly, and when he looked back at her, his blue eyes, bluer than ever with the accentuation of the carmine above his brow, he looked at her.  

                    He was drunk. She was beautiful. And even in the morning when he wasn’t drunk he knew she’d still be: his particular friend that wasn’t quite a friend at the same time. The girl he knew nothing about but couldn’t say anyone knew anything about. Nora, he thought, and it felt like he’d said it out loud, but he wasn’t sure. Garrett hadn’t even had a girl do this–– fawn over him with the intent of fixing something, and he could only suspect it had to do with his head for it was ringing like a bell, and her attention had seemed to be on it up until now. It didn’t make any sense that it was her here now, and yet it did at the same time. He wasn’t sure, but his hand stayed on her arm, sliding down an inch, softly, in a manner that was uncertain, and he kept looking at her. He wasn’t sure why she was here. Why her. But he wasn’t unsettled by it, and though confused he felt lulled in the sense that he’d be okay. Garrett let go after a few dazed and lingering moments and began to push himself up into a sitting position. He grunted and he buffered with suspension as he suddenly felt something dizzy reach him, and he suddenly wanted his bed. After the trial of finding a right balance, he sat, his head down, his elbows resting loosely on either knee; his eyes, barely open in preservation, “It’s okay,” He repeated, breathing out, and he already felt half asleep, “–– Can you just help me?” He began, questioning, and his next statement fell in a plateau and in a direct tangent to his lethargic request, “–– get to my room.” He paused, bringing a hand up to lightly wipe at his eye that was hammering with his pulse, “I need to lay down there.”

     smoothing  her  fingertips  over  the  adhesive  tape  on  either  side  of  the  laid  gauze  ,  she  removed  the  extensive  pressure  as  garrett  began  to  stir  beneath  her  .  falling  back  to  rest  on  her  heels  ,  she  noticed  the  light  of  her  phone  softly  illuminating  the  room  enough  to  notice  their  presence  .  surely  the  lack  of  communication  between  herself  &  her  sisters  &  notifications  from  the  thirty  second  clip  of  teammate  feuding  ,  enough  knowledge  to  know  her  name  would  be  tagged  all  over  it  .  ‘  i  would’ve  sooner  but  seeing  as  i’ve  never  been  here  ,  i  didn’t  want  to  walk  in  on  one  of  your  roommates  .  ’  nora  delineated  ,  gently  lowering  his  hand  as  to  not  fumble  with  the  fresh  dressing  much  further  &  she  felt  herself  devouring  into  the  lingering  touch  before  placing  her  hand  between  her  thighs  .  glancing  up  at  his  unfit  sway  ,  she  quickly  rose  &  tucked  her  one  arm  in  an  ample  enough  stance  to  bring  him  to  a  stand  .  ‘  are  you  able  to  tell  which  room  is  yours  ,  or  will  i  get  a  tour  ?  ’  she  simpered  ,  hand  resting  on  his  lower  abdomen  as  to  prevent  the  taller  falling  absentmindedly  on  his  face  .  then  ,  she  thought  ,  the  campus  would  be  more  inclined  to  blame  her  for  more  than  appeared  so  now  .

                    Her answer was deferred, not that it mattered to his inert judgment, his hips still pressed into her as he worked against her neck, and it was clear judgment had been chastized down to physicality; down to ‘touching’ or ‘not touching’. Yes or no. This way or that, and as she slid her shoulder into his chest he lifted his head from her, lips grazing her temple, close he remained, cheek brushing against her dark hair as she began to move. And then he was being pulled. Her hand in his felt impervious and he held on loosely, enough to follow behind at arm’s length, leaving the dark den and back near the kitchen. One foot in front of the other, that was all it took, and yet he felt groggy. His head seemed to drag, someone, another guy, shouted something at him–– them as he was being led, but he couldn’t decipher through the music and the heaviness his cranium had accumulated. The stairs were tucked in the kitchen, that’s where they were headed, and a light flash of clarity found him, brief, enough to orientate himself as they entered the room with the bleak light. His eyes narrowed; he wasn’t paying attention, and it cost him deeply as the tip of his shoe knicked an elevated, broken floorboard just adjacent to the steps.

                    He fell. Hard. Clearly not aware enough to catch his balance, but even if so there was nothing tangible to grab ahold of as he went headfirst into the square wooden newel. A thick wooden noise sounded, and then a thud as he landed. Another brief moment of clarity, one he’d certainly remember in the morning, as he realized he was now on the floor but didn’t understand why. A gasp and then an animated and distraught, ‘oh my God’ found his left ear. A few other females who’d been congregating around the half sawn-off kitchen island had decided to chime in after witnessing the sheer spectacle that had unfolded, and it was nothing short of clownery. Garrett grunted, turning over so that he was now sitting up on his elbows, and as he began to reach for the steps, attempting to pull himself up, blood now dripped down his temple, and smearing into his hair, it darkened his brow. Woefully confused he was back to black–– nothing was clicking except simple bodily motions, lethargic, he just wanted to sit up, and unreactive he remained as another girl suggested calling an ambulance. Pathetically and feebly he tried to steady himself and ineptly reached for something which ended up being a loose baluster. Before he could do anything else he was greeted with a hard kicked in the stomach, the breath knocked out of him, and he began heaving. John was back. Garrett cowered down, subconsciously, sheerly instinct, his other hand going for his abdomen, and he lied miserably and silently in a position that almost looked like prostrating, his shirt, inched up his back to expose his belt and lumbar.

                    John challenged him, as gratingly a purebred LAX bro who was, currently, holding a Juul and was notoriously known for trying to imitate Borat could be. His much shorter and wider sidekick was behind him, off to the side, more of a spectator. Only mild phrases made the transfer from John’s mouth to Garrett’s faded conscious: ‘she’s a whore’, ‘don’t be a pussy’, ‘get up’. The brunette was still folded on the ground, his feet clearly trying to find some kind of level surface, though it was clear there was a gap between the brunette and physics at the moment. He was inebriated and he’d hit his head; he could’ve sworn he was able to feel the Earth rotating, but as he tried to mutter a response, his breath still gone, he tried again, his face reddened with excessive blood flow due to his crouched position, his jugular bulging from his neck. Again, he tried, and again and again while a scene played before him, orchestral, almost. What happened after quickly procured. A few of his friends in the adjacent room had come to the timely rescue, his Pike brothers, and then another, likely the renter of the house, desperate to keep as much of his security deposit as he could, had seemingly flown in. What proceeded was gorilla warfare. A solid fist-to-the-face noise rung in what was simultaneously the beginning of the end as John was hit and soon, chronically realized this was a fight he was not going to win. It was all brazen and short-lived, the kitchen had cleared of all recreational activity, the girls gone, the other party-goers now absent, presumably out the back door, but it had all ended after a few piteous and desperate swings and a threat from the host. Two stayed to rashly and swiftly lift Garrett to his feet, seemingly urgent to get him all out of there. The brunette’s head hung, tired, he could hear one of them asking Nora if she knew were he lived, and he looked over to his right blankly to see Landon and then out at Nora, turning his head back, his eyes vacant, “–– Dude,” He blinked, heavily, his lid sticky, the blood caught in his eye, “am I crying?” He cut them off, groggy, and he lifted a hand to wipe at his own mess, and then on an entirely different tangent, “I gotta go–” He lapsed for a moment, and you could tell his world was spinning, “I need to talk to Chandler.” But his deflated request was ignored completely, and they took his arms over their shoulders and began to cart him out.

   he  slipped  through  her  fingertips  ,  not  that  there  was  as  much  tension  than  a  gentle  tug  ,  an  untouchable  rise  to  falling  faint  in  the  crowded  fraternity  .  but  spoken  too  soon  ,  she  was  about  to  bow  to  his  defense  against  the  wood  planks  of  the  kitchen  floor  ,  before  she  fell  under  the  nonconsensual  study  of  john  .  suddenly  ,  she  felt  like  a  deer  in  fine  lights  &  his  words  scathed  her  limbs  like  broken  glass  .  except  ,  it  was  garrett  taking  the  punches  &  her  being  swallowed  whole  by  the  sea  of  adherents  ,  who  intoxicatingly  believed  in  toss  of  fists  &  school  yard  antics  as  a  source  of  amusement  .  it  carried  out  to  be  an  untarnished  display  of  testosterone  fueled  envy  ,  nora  using  her  forearms  to  swim  against  the  current  as  she  was  abruptly  pulled  into  the  barrier  of  four  men  who  defended  the  charmer  .  the  security  she  felt  was  matchable  to  the  shining  armored  arriving  on  a  white  horse  ,  unless  it  was  a  distanced  thought  like  what  they  had  was  something  more  than  for  lustful  instances  .

   the  destination  was  smoothed  over  after  one  of  the  defense  team’s  recollection  of  heading  to  garrett’s  apartment  once  prior  ,  who  also  helped  to  bring  garrett’s  bruised  self  into  the  threshold  of  his  apartment  .  the  couch  seemed  to  be  the  closest  remedy  for  cleaning  his  wounds  &  now  that  she  had  thought  of  it  ,  she  had  never  been  &  wouldn’t  know  what  room  belonged  to  him  .  after  much  convincing  of  her  sobriety  &  efficient  skills  of  prepping  &  covering  a  wound  ,  like  the  one  gashing  on  the  forehead  of  garrett  ,  the  burly  quartet  left  with  appreciation  their  friend  was  in  more  than  qualified  hands  .  no  sooner  they  left  did  nora  search  every  cabinet  &  drawer  in  the  open  space  kitchen  ,  gathering  them  in  a  baseball  cap  she  found  left  on  the  counter  .  she  hadn’t  left  herself  the  clearance  to  ponder  over  the  simple  fact  that  tonight  would  change  everything  for  them  &  her  hidden  romance  betrayed  her  in  front  of  glistening  screens  &  instagram  live  feeds  ,  listing  off  the  suggestive  names  that  fueled  his  jealousy  over  anyone  scorning  love  over  his  monthly  lay  .  she  faced  misdemeanors  of  thoughtless  men  the  moment  she  could  wear  lipstick  &  talk  a  mile  around  their  dull  minds  ,  this  wasn’t  the  first  nor  last  .  she  managed  to  find  table  salt  &  filtered  water  to  clean  his  wounds  ,  a  cloth  &  the  last  of  gauze  ,  supposing  it  was  belonging  to  the  slumped  knight  leaning  face  to  cushion  on  the  couch  .

                    Her hands on his own chest–– they felt delicate in his devout inebriety, like after-sparks surrounding a flint strike; like a drizzle just before a storm, and had he not been so in himself he would’ve paid more attention to how they configured against his collar. But he was in himself. Sunken, a pit, he was a puppet that wasn’t in his own control anymore, for if he was the events that were sure to bechance him would have just been a cruel joke as fleeting as confetti. He’d set his gumption back down in the kitchen half an hour ago, and he hadn’t realized he’d lost it yet. His mind wasn’t far either, though his boyish allure remained, if not became enhanced, and as highlighters fluoresce under the black light his carnal propensity became iridescent in the dim den, his naturally hooded eyes, merely the beginning to a seamless love letter that caught the eye of almost every woman in the room. 

                    It could’ve been anyone, couldn’t it have, but it was Nora–– and as she met his kiss, a few slurred and dank choice words caught on the beat of whatever Migos song was blaring were thrown at them. Apes at the zoo. It wouldn’t have been out of character for his blonde teammate to pound his chest, but Garrett paid no mind, not because he didn’t want to but because the rest of the scene had slipped from him, as would his recollection of this in the morning. Which, seemed to make the other male even madder. As he felt her pull away from his mouth, his grip on her neck tightened, her words coming out strained as his lips found the corner of her mouth, open, the tip of his tongue dragged along her olive skin. But his hold loosened as he simply moved down to her neck, “Yeah?” He responded, his hot breath finding her lobe as his hips tightened their proximity against her own. His shoulders cascaded her, protected her, in a way, and if anyone else happened to want to get to her it would be through him. His other palm slipped, down from the wall and met her waist with a mild grip, hiking up the end of her shirt. His hands were usually adroit against a woman; swiftly moved like a temple dancer, bolstering when they wanted to and painting her when they didn’t. Here he was boldly intensive.

                    His mouth found her neck, right below her jaw, tilting her head to the side, but as he felt her graze the area below his navel dire for conscious and proper blood flow, he brought his lips back to hers. Something was said, again, brief and shouted behind him, and once more it passed over him as would the empty wind. Both of his hands found her waist now, a mild scene created, half a dozen eyes had looked over and a few had begun to stare daftly, though it wasn’t in revolt but rather amusement. His coarse digits, snaked up the bottom of her top a few inches, his hips pressed against her own pushed into her, enough to either send her back towards the wall or to enforce her position against. His mouth parted and then found her once more with a slow vigor, his touch against the smooth surface of her abdomen. Physical, she was there, caprice for him, and that was the most attractive part of it all. 

                    He pulled back enough to look at her. He could still feel the imprint of her on his own lips, his tousled hair and shirt, evidence of their immediate and magnetized friction, and he looked her over. Brazenly, he looked her over, eyes slightly narrowing, his lips slightly agape, his blue eyes were thick but hallow, heavy with something that was empty, “You wanna go?” He leaned in to speak against her own mouth, nearly incoherent, his hands, slid up, now under her shirt, rubbing against her bra strap, “–Let’s go upstairs.” The brunette clarified after a moment, and with his eyes having closed he looked sleepy and yet determined simultaneously, “I wanna see you.” His lips brushed down as he admitted it, down past her jaw, his cheek against her own, and once more he found her neck, sluggish, sloppy in a way that demanded to be felt and invited the prospect of goosebumps as he lightly sucked. 

 garrett  had  a  hold  on  nora  ,  unexplainable  down  to  his  fingers  trailing  up  the  pleated  length  of  her  heavenly  abrupt  cloth  covering  her  waist  &  the  gruff  oratory  pronouncing  from  the  taller  who  kept  her  sanctioned  away  for  himself  between  his  arm  &  the  wall  ,  the  observer  of  the  surroundings  .  the  brunette  finally  caught  the  tail  end  of  a  song  she  knew  all  of  five  words  to  &  even  that  ,  she  felt  clueless  to  the  habitual  occurrences  of  a  rupture  of  cheering  from  the  pong  tables  &  diving  from  the  banisters  like  the  idol  college  students  they  standardized  themselves  to  be  .  her  footing  shifted  ,  black  heeled  sandals  meeting  the  wall  as  she  allowed  her  back  to  share  closure  with  the  wall  where  garrett’s  hand  held  on  for  dear  life  ,  noticing  his  state  withering  away  .  she  contemplated  his  true  state  ,  if  any  of  his  recollection  would  remain  tomorrow  after  a  night  of  stone  cold  slumber  &  morning’s  rude  awakening  .

 his  allure  brought  her  to  a  standstill  with  inner  conflict  ,  allowing  him  to  devour  every  inch  of  her  skin  ,  or  what  was  shown  for  his  desire  .  nora  imagined  this  intimacy  with  him  since  the  day  she  turned  her  back  from  him  to  trail  off  with  her  teammates  after  practice  ,  unruly  was  her  appearance  &  breathless  in  his  speech  &  craving  to  know  just  her  name  .  now  ,  he  wouldn’t  stop  enunciating  it  in  every  touch  of  his  lips  to  her  .  .  .  a  request  ?  the  walk  to  the  steps  ,  taking  each  one  with  two  to  unite  them  with  the  closest  empty  room  ,  or  would  they  declare  a  taken  their  own  &  face  the  consequences  that  came  their  way  .  hidden  lovers  in  a  crowded  room  ,  beckoning  to  cross  every  valley  &  crossing  of  their  bodies  in  a  harmonious  ,  sky  parting  &  angels  sounding  in  a  choir  between  the  sheets  &  passing  out  in  glistening  ,  blanket  covered  bodies  in  hopes  that  everyone  envied  to  take  the  place  of  the  pair  .  ‘  i  wanna  see  you  ,  ’  .  get  in  line  ,  she  thought  .  romanticizing  over  could  happen’s  only  made  her  that  much  cemented  to  reality  ,  supposing  another  bed  meant  another  release  of  frustration  &  a  page  of  release  in  her  little  black  book  tucked  between  her  mattress  since  her  early  beginnings  ,  with  no  say  on  her  behalf  .