crash and burn, you're not alone

Kathryn mock gasped when she heard another dreaded nickname stem from his lips and she turned the faux scandalised look on her best friend before her palm connected with the man’s shoulder once more. “You did not just call me that, that’s it I’m giving her your number too.” she was back at her cell phone once more, fingers rapidly moving across the touch screen with an ease that only the youth could possess as she quickly responded with Shep’s ‘other’ number for when she failed with Sloan - clumsy her really, Shep and Sloan were pretty close in her address book she just mistakenly sent the wrong one. She wouldn’t actually send his number, even for revenge, so petrified by the mere thought of Shep getting a girlfriend and forgetting her that she would honestly do anything she could to make it so that he wouldn’t. Kat never said she was a good person now, did she? 

“Actually, I wouldn’t call it hate, as we both know I never have it in me to hate–” another lie, Kathryn threw herself into everything with such a passionate manner, she loved wholeheartedly, hated with a fury that would make even the most heartless fear for the safety of the person she hated, but she would never admit to having it in her to hate someone so much. “But, in tenth grade she did make out with Matthew Henderson at that thing, the stupid party his sister was throwing remember? Anyway, she made out with Matthew Henderson despite him being there with me and then had the audacity to say it was because he’d already slept with me and was bored. Need I remind you that contrary to popular belief, tenth grade me was a virgin.” she huffed a little, still holding a grudge for something that happened going on a decade ago, but no one said the Andretti’s didn’t hold grudges, that was what her family were known for of course. 

She hated that look on his face when he spoke about breaking a leg, and hated herself even more for being the asshole that put it there. “Shep..” she began weakly though she knew it was pointless, she knew that any argument was stupid. He was right, she knew that, but she also knew that saying no to Gio was asking for trouble. She’d never done that before. She also knew that Gio wouldn’t believe her phone went dead, he knew her too well and it was an unspoken rule in their family to have their phones on them at all time, you never knew when you would be needed. You were constantly ‘on call’ as such. “Shep you know I can’t say no… he’ll kill me.”

He laughed easily, the sound neither forced, the way it was around coworkers, or subdued. This was the way it always was around Kat. He took the blow to his shoulder in stride, neither stopping his step or in his laughter, and instead made only the slightest dramatic wounded face. As she continued, however, his face changed from wounded to something akin to horror. “That would be one hell of a three way date,” he remarked as he imagined sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant across from Audrey Matthews and Sloan Andretti. He was 99% sure Kat was kidding in her threats, but if she weren’t, he supposed he had to prepare to have to let Audrey down gently...

As she prattled on about their high school years, deflecting from what she didn’t want to talk about, Shep had to shake his head. “Glad to hear we’ve grown up and are no longer holding onto grudges from high school,” he pointedly praised her, his voice filled with obvious sarcasm. “I don’t even remember half the people from high school, let alone enough to hate them.” It was a half truth. There were certainly people who still stood out in Shep’s mind-- friends, neutral acquaintances, and of course those he didn’t like-- but for the most part, his most vivid memories of high school were of Kat. They may have run in very different social circles, but their friendship had bridged even the chasms of the high school social scene. 

Just as it had thus far survived their very different outlooks on crime. As her face fell, he knew he hadn’t succeeded in keeping his voice or his face as neutral as he’d wanted to; somewhere his disapproval had bled through, and here she was, begging him to understand. He stopped walking and caught her by the elbow. “I know,” he sighed, looking at her in a way that he hoped reassured her. He wasn’t happy with her racing, but mostly he wasn’t happy with her family for putting her in that kind of danger; or for making her look so afraid of them. Despite the fact that he felt grimy from work, he tugged her toward him and pulled her into a hug. “I know,” he repeated into her hair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me.” 

@kenziecarrion​

Go to Vegas, meet the investors, make the deal, come home. 

His instructions had been simple but he hadn’t expected his flight home to be cancelled, and he managed a quick text message to his sister before he decided to at least have a few drinks to pass the time. He was missing his vineyard, his home, his dog. He was aching for the peace and quiet that his property provided, away from the bright lights, the hustle and noise of Vegas and everything that it entailed. He admitted, when he first got there it was interesting to watch, he’d been stood in awe by the sheer beauty of it, a lost country boy in a big city, but now he was forced to stay here, the novelty was wearing thin. 

As he sat at the bar, nursing another beer he was preoccupied by his gripes about the airline that had cancelled, staring at the moisture pooling on the bar as if it were the most offensive thing on earth, when his cellphone pulled him out of his thoughts. Looking down at the number, he smiled softly at the sight of his sisters’ name appearing on the screen. “Charlie.” he greeted with obvious affection, and he lifted his gaze up as his sister began to fill him in on the goings on at her university, yet it also meant he finally looked up from his drink and caught sight of the blonde perched on the other end of the bar. 

Stunning eyes, a body that he was subtly checking out as his sister continued to talk in his ear, and as he tilted his head to the side as if cracking his neck he couldn’t help but smirk as he noted long legs stretching beneath the bar. “Charlie, darlin’ I gotta go. I’ll be home soon. Yeah, love you too.” he hung up on his sister, smirking at the blonde briefly before he beckoned to the bartender, “’Scuse me, can you do me a favour? Put one of whatever she’s drinkin’ on m’tab and send it to her?” he asked, leaning against the bar and drinking his beer as he watched the bartender go up to the blonde, “..courtesy of the gentleman at the end of the bar, ma’am.” 

Fourteen girls on a bachelorette party in Vegas– it was the most cliche of setups and she had loved every minute of the long weekend. The whole city was alive with color and sound: the bright marquees lining the streets, the faux Eiffel Tower all lit up in gold, the flashing lights of the casino games, the shuffling of cards, the counting of chips, the sirens of slot machines– all mixing with the pulse of music and the clinking of glasses. They had drowned themselves in liquor and debauchery, giggling that ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ all the while. But now their party weekend was nearing its end; tomorrow the girls would split up and travel back to their separate states and separate lives, their college days of living minutes from each other a distant memory. They’d decided to pick a little more classy of an establishment for their last hurrah, taking advantage of the opportunity to wear their little black dresses, and gain any last minute points in their totally-not-a-contest contest.

And here was drink number 7, solidifying Marina’s lead. She took the martini from the bartender with a small smirk of victory cast towards Jenna, who was a little further down the bar, and paused for a moment before looking around. It was important to remember what Cass had taught her: this was a dance– there was power in a man sending over a drink, but there was also power in a woman making him wait for her thanks or even just for acknowledgement. Pause, one….two… On three she cast her gaze about the room in the direction which the bartender had indicated, and found herself eye to eye with the man at the end of the bar. She’d noticed him before– they all had, he was classically handsome– but he had been broodingly staring at his drink all night, and hadn’t seemed interested in anyone else. Until now when she supposed he’d found something better to look at. She smiled her thanks, casting her eyes down to the drink demurely, before picking it up and locking eyes with him again as she took a sip. Suddenly there was movement behind her.

“Oh my god Rina, he’s totally cute,” Jenna scream-shouted in her ear. Marina turned and smiled at her friend without teeth, her eyes clearly stating ’get out of here’. Jenna took the hint and half-walked, half-danced away, and Marina was left alone again– in case the 'gentleman at the end of the bar’ wanted to do more than send her drinks from afar.

“No you shouldn’t, Stephen–” she replied, bumping him with her hip as she gave him a half hearted glare. Of course, any anger she felt was false and gone within seconds, she never remained angry at Shep for long. It was impossible to, he was too important to her, the most she’d gone was a day, which she still to this day called the worst twenty four hours or her life. He was the constant in her life, the only good most days, given that Sloan was back in town once more and her brothers on edge over some stupid rival trying to cross over into the Andretti ‘turf’, something Kat had no interest in involving herself with. She needed Shep, she couldn’t lose him. 

She hated it though, when Shep realised what was going on without her even talking about her father, and that he had realised immediately what messages were awaiting her. Gio demanding she raced meant that if she didn’t, she’d be in the shit and the chances of her escaping it unscathed were unlikely. Whether her punishment for not showing would be at the hands of her father or her brothers she had no idea, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out. She closed out of Gio’s message, ignoring Shep’s question in favour of returning to the subject of Aubrey.

“Y’know Tommy-with-an-H got nothin’ on you Shep,” she replied teasingly, before sighing softly. “It’s you or Oliver, she had the biggest crush on him in tenth grade and whilst I’m pretty sure he and Sloan are off again, I’m not goin’ there with that. I saw her tryin’ t’paw all over him at Bernie’s the other night, and he basically flat out rejected her in front of everyone.” she smirked at the thought of Sloan rejected and humiliated whilst Oliver walked away. He deserved better and she deserved nothing, it was fitting. “Oooh what if I send her Sloan’s number instead?” she replied, already thinking on how Sloan would react even as she typed the familiar number into the response to Aubrey along with a he’s just dying to go out with you A! as still still skirted around the answer about her Dad. 

Finally, she knew he wouldn’t wait much longer. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she tried to pass it off as if it were nothing, arrogant smirk still in place as she shrugged. “I don’t have a choice, it’s only against that Ambrosi kid and he’s shit. It’ll be over in thirty.” she replied, looking at him hopefully.

He winced as she threw his first name out there. "Okay, okay, point taken," he laughed. "No nicknames in the company of others. Though to be fair it always could have been worse, right Pretty Kitty?" As he spoke, he reached out and snaked an arm around her, catching her as she bounced away from bumping her hip against his, and pulling her back to his side playfully. He didn't hold onto her for too long though; even after all this time, he was always embarrassed by how much he smelled like kitchen grease at the end of one of his shifts, so as quickly as he'd grabbed her, he let her go. 

It was clear as Kat babbled on that she was ignoring his questions. He let her chatter swirl around him, not commenting on her sister Sloan's relationship with her on-again-off-again conman. Only when Kat announced her grand idea and started furiously typing did he reply, with a sarcastically mumbled "I had no idea you hated Audrey Matthews so much." He didn’t know Sloan on a personal level, in fact he actively tried to avoid most of the problematic members of Kat’s family, but he knew the woman would rip Audrey Matthews apart and eat her for breakfast. He might have been amused by Kat’s prank antics-- if it wasn't so clear it was all a front. 

Finally she looked up at him, and confirmed what he already knew. You do have a choice: don't go, he wanted to say. Come home with me, we'll sneak in past my parents together, and you can pretend your phone was dead and you never saw the message. But he'd uttered the words before, and they'd never changed the outcome. Kat's father called, Kat went; it was as simple as that. Any resistance he put up would either upset her, or cause them to fight. And he was too tired to fight about Gio Andretti again tonight. "Good luck," he said instead, shrugging in a way he hoped came across as neutral. "Or break a leg, whatever you say to you NASCAR drivers.” His attempts at humor fell flat and he tucked his hands in his pockets. "I'll probably be passed out by the time you're done, but you can still come over if you want. You know where the window is."

A chuckle parted Alexandra’s lips as she watched the two friends interact, watching the friend she’d heard so much about and trying to see as much as she could. She wanted to compare him with the image of Jack built up in her mind. Also, part of her wanted to see the man he toured with, and had potential to tour with more - to see if Mark had the right kind of man at her back. The downside of dating a marine was the constant nagging worry at the back of his mind when he did a tour that he wouldn’t come home, that one day she’d get that phone call that would tell her that Mark was gone. If she was even deigned worthy to get a phone call, it wasn’t like they were married yet, despite their numerous conversations about it. 

When the mention of his inability to keep anything quiet was hinted at, Mark held his hands up in surrender, “You should both take it as a compliment.” he told them, as Alex narrowed her gaze at him, though it was obvious by how she looked at him she wasn’t in the slightest bit angry. She was crazy about him, and him her, it was obvious just in how they looked at each other and how they gravitated towards each other without even realising what they did. She didn’t mind his telling stories about her, part of her was glad that he was thinking of her, but she was confused by the look she caught on Jack’s face and immediately it brought a frown to her features. She corrected it a moment later when she caught Mark looking at her, and brought a smile to his lips that had him wrapping his arm around her and pressing his lips to her head. “I had to try, home for a little while between college exams so.” she shrugged a little, “Visiting Mark and seeing my sisters, it’s all I need.” she replied with a sweet smile, causing Mark to grin at Jack. “She’s great, isn’t she?” he asked, though he didn’t need an answer. 

Alexander however, blushed and nudged him. “Shut up,” she muttered, before turning to Jack. “So, do you have a girlfriend, or partner Jack?”

As the laughter at Mark's inability to keep anything secret swirled around him, Jack found himself fading out. As much as he was happy to be around his friend again--after four years of spending almost every moment together, even a week apart felt like a lot-- he was struck by how much he did not want to be here at this moment. When Alexandra turned the conversation back on him, however, he snapped back to attention. "Me? No, not at the moment. But who knows, maybe I'll have better luck now than I did at seventeen," he smiled sheepishly.   

He definitely had never been in love the way the couple in front of him clearly was. He knew Mark was the overly sentimental type; hell he'd spent four years with the man, listening to him tell every story about how he and Alexandra had met over and over again. But there was something different about watching the two in person, with their hands all over each other. He was glad to see his friend so happy, but that was definitely something they'd get made fun of all night for by the other marines from their unit, even those who also had a woman on their arm. 

Later he'd use that as a joking excuse for why he'd left early. 'I had to, you two were nauseating me.' But the truth was his mother's words still echoed in the back of his head, and it was hard to focus on anything else. 

"I actually can't stay, I just came to show my face and to make sure you made it here okay." At the second part, he reached out and punched Mark's shoulder playfully. "The man can't navigate to save his life," he offered conspiratorially to Alexandra. "You being here makes sense as to why he made it at all." The jovial words felt fake in his mouth, but he did his best to muster up a convincing smile.

His heart, apparantly he still had one, sunk ever so slightly when she couldn’t meet his gaze and he wondered if they’d ever be able to move completely past it, and whether it would always be something that hung over their friendship like a persistent dark cloud. He huffed slightly and continued to make the drinks that he desired, “Well, moving on…” he muttered, almost bitterly as he moved again with the same abrupt manner that his father had, a sharp turn on his heels and moving towards Viviane as he handed her the drink.

When she knocked back the drink, he tilted his head as he studied her movement, a smirk finally curving his lips. He was at least impressed by the way she could knock back the drinks as well as he could, he always had time for people who could keep up with his drinking, they were too far and few between for him to be truly choosy. 

His eyes drifted down to her rapidly shortening skirt and he groaned internally, his resolve non existent most of the time, now when on his second bottle of whiskey it was completely gone. He sat down with no further invitation needed, “Never,” he replied smoothly, arm resting along the back of the couch behind her head and bringing the bottle to his lips again.  “You’re too tempting, Viv. You know that?”

There was a gleam of appreciation in his grin as she returned the now empty glass to the table in front of her, and Viv raised an eyebrow in return, almost as if to say 'are you surprised?' Her lifestyle was surrounded by alcohol, pouring and serving it to the patrons who were thirsty in more ways than one, and drinking it in order to get through another shift in that shithole of a place. It had given her a tolerance that was much more than most girls of her stature; though she was sure it still had nothing on Garrett's. 

Viviane smirked victoriously as he dropped down on the couch beside her. That hadn't been hard at all. In one moment the look in his eye had changed from whatever she'd seen before, to one touched by lust. Perfect. Lust she knew how to work with. He'd settled closely next to her, and the way he draped his arm across the back of the pillows caused her body to fall directly against his as he weighed down the cushion beneath them both: hipbone to hipbone, her shoulder against the side of his chest. It wasn't a disagreeable position to be in, but Viv always preferred to be a little more in control. She shifted, curling a little more towards him so that she could be sitting sideways enough to lean her elbow on the back of the couch, just above where he had his arm. She let her hand fall onto his arm, brushing just against his shoulder. Her position now gave her more balance, allowing her to reach out with her free hand and take the whiskey bottle from him, and bring it to her own lips. 

Whiskey was always rough going down but maybe thats why she liked it, taking a large swig before passing the bottle back. In response to his words, she smiled coyly. "I try," she tossed her hair, straightening her back in a way that made her chest stand out more. With her now free hand, she reached out and touched his chest, skimming her palm and fingers against the thin fabric of his shirt as she leaned in towards him. She stopped when her lips hovered just below his ear, at his jawbone, "That's why you called me, isn't it?" she purred, her voice soft. "Instead of Anna, Amanda, Heather, Becky." Between each name she dipped her head down and placed kisses along the column of his throat. When she was finished listing all his other options, and teasing him, she lifted her face to be even with his. "You called me, because I'm 'too tempting'. And because I'm so much more fun," she grinned, taking her hand off his chest and stealing the bottle of whisky from him to drink again.

“Of course, he’s cheap in some aspects but James Hunt never skimps on booze,” given his father’s history with the red head he hesitated for only the briefest of moments when he mentioned the man, casting her a look before quickly returning back to what he was doing as if he had never spoken. “It is, might as well enjoy it though, yes?” he replied, forcing a smile to his lips that didn’t quite reach his glazed over baby blues and he turned abruptly on his heels to toward the couch as if he didn’t speak in the first place. 

He poured her a glass though forewent one of his own, the sharp reminder of WHY he had needed to get drunk in the first place having made the idea of getting and drinking from a glass almost impossible. Especially if he wanted to get drunk quicker then normal, which he obviously did by the way his head tilted back and he tried to down as much of the liquid as possible, not quite answering her question. To him, it wasn’t a celebration, more of a desperate attempt to just forget, and to try and enjoy the night for what it was, a simple, James free, drama free (he hoped) night where he didn’t have to deal with Charles, or with some sorority girl on his doorstep trying to make him into something he wasn’t. 

“We, my darling, ma chérie, my sweet and beautiful Viviane, are celebrating being young, free and single and not giving a plain old fuck. Enough reason?”

Something was wrong. Don’t ask her how she knew-- on the surface Garrett was the same as he often appeared to people: carefree, a bit bitter, happy to drink for the sake of drinking to be drunk. But there was an edge to his voice, or maybe a look in his eye, that told her this wasn’t just a carefree night of drinking. As if to confirm her thoughts, Garrett suddenly mentioned his father, and when he glanced back at her, she couldn’t meet his eye, casting her gaze to the floor. That was something that would always hang between them, and while things had been better lately, she knew he would never truly forgive her for that. She would probably never really forgive herself. When he turned back to making drinks, she tried to shake off the knot of discomfort in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t have to ask me to take advantage of good liquor,” was all she returned, with a shake of her curled red hair.

From her perch on the couch, she watched him mixing her drink, while drinking from the bottle himself. If Viviane was a better person, she might have asked him what was wrong. But she was never one that was good with emotional support. She was too selfish, too closed up herself, and she always found it hard to know what to say to make another person feel better. She didn’t spill her secrets to others, and she didn’t ask them to tell her theirs. That was probably why Garrett had called her in the first place. So when you can’t change them...join them. 

Curling her lips into a smile that showed her teeth, she reached out to take the drink from him. “I’ll certainly drink to that.” To match her words, she tipped the glass back and took a large swallow, feeling the liquor burn the back of her throat. Returning the glass to her lap, she cocked her head and patted the open spot on his couch beside her. “Don’t let me drink alone.” As a subtle incentive, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, making her already short skirt appear even shorter, and took another swallow of the alcohol. 

She couldn’t help the urge to smile at the look on Oliver’s face when she talked about Carson; men could be so transparent in their jealousy sometimes. It was something Doll never understood, but she managed to keep the grin off her face the best she could. “He is, yeah,” she nodded, agreeing with his assessment that Carson was a good friend for following her out to New York. “I really didn’t expect him to say yes, I was lucky I guess.” She shrugged, letting the subject drop; she wasn’t the type to dangle mentions of other boys in front of Oliver just to make him jealous, her mentions of Carson were just as much as they needed to be. Doll glanced ahead of her to make sure she didn’t bump into anyone as they neared a more crowded section of the gallery, before turning back to look at him with new interest in her eye when he mentioned already having multiple tattoos. The artist in her was instantly curious about what they were, but she didn’t want to seem invasive or pushy. “Yeah? Me too,” was all she said in reply, choosing not to reveal too much about her own ink either. Conversations for another time, she supposed.

Turning back once more to look in front of her, she suddenly realized that the reason this part of the gallery was so crowded was that it was the end of the gallery, and the beginning of the gift shop; they’d come full circle already. Suddenly Doll didn’t know what to say next. Turning back to Oliver, she shrugged in a ‘that’s that’ gesture. “I guess that’s the whole place,” she stated, though that much had been obvious. “Well,” she continued after a moment’s pause, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “I guess I should be getting back. This was my little break from work… But it was really cool meeting you, Oliver,” she continued, giving him a true smile. “It’s not often that I find another person interested in art– you know, aside from in my classes. We should get coffee sometime,” she suggested. “ You could tell me more about your work…” Doll trailed off, waiting to see if he’d agree. Their whole conversation had started with him boldly admitting wanting to get to know her, but for all she knew, he could’ve lost interest by now.

He had to stop being jealous about the best friend, he barely met this girl. Then again, as he told himself, he was merely trying to ascertain whether he was hitting on a taken girl to save himself the trouble. Not that boyfriends had even stopped Oliver beforehand, “Good to know, wouldn’t want to find out there’s a boyfriend or something.” he replied candidly, before he realised they were at the end of the museum, not that he had paid particular attention to the pieces, and he noted that they’d passed the piece he had come to study so he could replicate without him even registering. “Huh, what do you know…” he mused with a grin, rubbing a hand across his chin with a roguish grin. 

“I should, probably get in there for my interview.” he admitted, the interview probably being nothing more then an Andretti wanting him to do ‘one last job’ despite his attempts at getting them and their toxic sister from his life, and starting fresh. When she suggested coffee, he smiled, glad that she wasn’t entirely uninterested as he pulled the gas receipt that he had used to try and talk to her in the first place and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled down his number. He merely handed it over wordlessly and winked, backing away as he made his way back into the museum. 

It was a thrill– his lips against hers. After all the buildup, the eye contact during his set and the suggestive conversation at her table, finally she had her hands on him. Cass had never been very good at waiting. She pressed herself up against him, shifting her lips in order to part them further as she gripped his hair with the hand still behind his head. As he ran his hands along her curves, she grinned against his lips, knowing he’d be pleased with what he found. Humility was also something she’d never been any good at. 

Cass dropped her lips to his neck and began kissing her way down the column of his throat, looking for sensitive spots to tease him with. This certainly hadn’t been the way she’d foreseen the night going, but now she only hoped he wasn’t about to chicken out on her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had sex in public places but she was pretty sure it would be the first time in an alleyway. It felt dirty and wild and she loved it. Pulling away, she leaned back against the bricks and cocked an eyebrow at him, in a smirking look that said ‘you want to?’.

Even as his fingertips danced up and down her sides he was amazed by what a pleasant turn his night was taking, already clearly lost in the redhead and her magic lips to remember he was supposed to be working, and he’d be lying if the thought of the money he was losing didn’t cross his mind just briefly before he pushed the thought from his mind as his fingers began to dig lightly into her hips as he deepened the kiss. 

When she moved to his neck he bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from moaning out loud as she worked her way down, leaning back against the rough brick with a chuckle as she looked up at him. Instead of answering, he switched their positions, pressing her against the wall with one hand pressed flat against her hip whilst the other moved to her thigh, fingers trailing up her thigh as he moved his hand upwards over her skin.

As she entered the apartment she pulled her cell from her pocket and opened it to see what messages she’d had since she had last checked it; the usual crap of people sending her tips for the site being at the forefront and despite her bad mood she couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of some of them. 

Whilst she was known for sometimes fabricating evidence of some of the elite’s night outs, with the aid of photoshop of course for ‘validity’, even she wouldn’t stoop to the ridiculous even if it was plausible that Shelby had gotten frozen to an ice sculpture by the tongue when she was licking a part she shouldn’t have been. Photos or it didn’t happen. “I just didn’t want to deal with Trev.” she muttered again, though she’d made it obvious why big brother wouldn’t be the one to go to with this stuff, she felt bad bothering her brother with mother issues, when she was only doing what Mom’s did. 

As if thinking of her summoned her presence, her mother’s name appeared on the screen, calling her for what had to be the tenth time in the last thirty minutes. Shutting the device off, she flopped down on the nearby couch. 

At Viviane’s questions however, she exhaled softly, almost too dramatically for her own liking. “Normal teenage stuff?” she asked hopefully, planning to enjoy every last moment of her teens until her rapidly approaching twentieth birthday, some might enjoy it, she however was dreading it. Especially now she still had no college prospects and two shitty jobs behind her, with a lack of support or understanding from her Ivy League educated mother. 

“Same old. Brad wants to be ‘pals’–” she began, her disgust for the man her mother married obvious as she used her fingers to punctate the pals in her words. “Which I suppose could’ve been valid once upon a time since he’s only three years older then me but then he decided to go and tell my mother I’m working in a bar.” she sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m just sick of being there, she hates the time I spend with my brothers. Hates that I didn’t get into college, which was apparantly all Jack’s fault, because losing a father so young is traumatizing.” 

She shook her head a few times, done talking at least for the moment. She leant forward to rest her elbows on her knees as she thought to all the times Miranda had found some way to blame Raven’s ‘failures’ on her brothers influence, or on the fact that Jack took his own life at a young age, or some other way that made it look like Miranda was parent of the year instead of some uninterested, absentee mother who thought her daughter should be seen and not heard. “I just want to get out of this town, and just… disappear…y’know?” she stated quietly, after a good minutes silence. “It’s stupid I know.” stupid alright, stupid to think getting away from this town was even an option for you girl.

Finally, she dropped her gaze. “I should just go lay low at the cabin for a few days, she can never remember where that is, and no phone signal.” she muttered, eyeing the phone in her lap like it was about to bite her. 

After the door was closed, Viviane wordlessly turned and moved towards the living room area, knowing her friend would follow. The majority of the apartment had been designed by her roommate, whose terrible décor had been established long before Viviane had moved in, and the living space was the worst example of it. The TV was a pretty damn good size, but it was offset by the brightly colored paintings on the walls, and the sheer number of useless vases with fake flowers sprouting up cheerfully. The couches were covered in an annoying array of expensive decorative pillows, which Viv pushed onto the floor before collapsing down on the corner, leaning back against the armrest so she could see her friend better. 

For the most part, she remained silent as Rae spoke, letting her get everything off her chest. She only interjected with the occasional quip, such as ‘Normal teenage stuff, what’s that like?’ and ‘Gross,’ when she mentioned her mother’s boyfriend trying to befriend her, pushing her own experiences with stepfathers from her mind. She sat up a little straighter after that. “Wait, he told your mom about the bar? Shit, how’d she take it?” Viv fell silent again, never sure what to say when Raven brought up her dad. Partially because she couldn’t remember what Rae had told her and what she’d just heard through the rumor mill, and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. But also because-- what the hell was there to say? Instead she tossed her hair as she rolled her eyes, putting herself on her friend’s side above all else. “Yeah well your mom is a piece of work too. Tell her she should count herself lucky, you could be much worse. Like…a prostitute,” she suggested, a self-depreciating smile on her lips. 

But the moment passed and the joking grin faded. “It’s still complete and utter bullshit you didn’t get accepted. You’re so much smarter than most of the people who did get in—sure as hell smarter than me.” It felt like the elephant in the room: that Viviane was currently in her first year at college and Raven had been rejected. Even bringing it up at all felt uncomfortable; she still didn’t know how she’d gotten into school and Raven hadn’t. Especially since she was much older than the typical student. She could only hope Rae didn't resent her for it… At the talk of leaving Walterton, Viv looked away, towards the window. Frilly belted curtains and venetian blinds blocked any actual view, but she looked instead at the brightness of the light that fought its way into the room. “It’s not stupid,” she said finally, without turning back. How many times had she had the same thought? “I used to feel the same way. Now I think I just got used to being stuck…” she shrugged, turning back to face her friend. “Please, you’d go crazy after half an hour of no cell service,” she snorted, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.