#olliedavis

Leaving his grocery shopping until the last minute was clearly not one of his finest ideas. Ollie had a guest coming over for dinner in less than an hour and he had absolutely no idea what he was going to cook. It didn’t help that when he went looking through his kitchen, the cupboards and his fridge were almost completely empty. There was a reason why he didn’t have people over for food very often. His only remaining option was to drop everything and make his way to the nearest grocery shop. This would have been all well and good, except he was walking blindly and didn’t know what he was even looking for. Out of the corner of his eye, Ollie saw a girl who seemed to be talking to herself. Making a mental note to keep his distance, he kept walking but he must not have been as discrete as he thought. He looked behind him to make sure she wasn’t talking to him and sighed when he realised he was the only one in the aisle. “Um…sure.” He was lucky enough to be quite tall, so helping her out wouldn’t be a problem. Ollie reached up and got the box pointed out to him. “There you go.” He was about to walk away when he was hit with an idea. “This is probably going to sound really weird but I’m in a bit of a pickle. I have someone coming over for dinner in an hour and have no ideas on what I can cook. Any suggestions?”

His apprehension makes her take a step back. She doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable and while it’d taken her almost twenty minutes to flag down someone to help her, there’s a chance not everyone is as open to talking to strangers as she is. Her affinity for not asking stems more from her inability to ask for help, not because she doesn’t enjoy talking to people. Ryleigh’s eyes light up and a beatific smile graces her lips, however, when the small box is held out to her. “You are literally my hero. Thank you,” she exclaims excitedly, taking the small box offered to her and placing it into her cart like she’s imparting with the holy grail. Figuring that’s the end of the their interaction, she doesn’t expect him to ask her opinion on anything, let alone something she’s well versed in. A bout of giddiness swells within her, the idea of being useful doing more for her well being than she’s willing to admit. “Well, that depends... is it a date dinner? Or a ‘good friends’ dinner? Because the meal absolutely makes the occasion. Sets the tone for what you’re tryin’ ta convey, you know?”  Already, while waiting for his answer, she’s skimming through her mental Rolodex of recipes. Making a whole meal in an hour isn’t impossible, but it’s definitely limiting what she’s able to suggest, considering his current predicament.

That’s all changed over for you, my lovely. Dacre Montgomery is now TAKEN, and Cameron Monaghan is now OPEN.

Tonight was his night. He was dressed up nice, with a vest and dressy pants. A classy fucking dude when he wanted to be. He was just wandering the club, looking for his thrill of the night, when he saw the redhead. He was up dancing, and Kelly was immediately enthralled. He stalked down the steps, found a nearby table, and just watched him, a smile on lips forming. He’d get whatever he could for free before he paid for a private dance. But a private dance was definitely forthcoming if he had any say about it.

“stay still-” belly pressed two fingers to the side of a nostril and snorted up some shit that was either coke or... actually, she didn’t know what this stuff was. could’ve been oxy, that’s what sylvia usually had on her. this time her head dipped down over the valley of syl’s tits. yes, belly jackson was doing drugs again, this time off a stripper’s chest in the bathroom. to get the last bit of it, belly’s fingers gripped into syl’s shoulder and inhaled hard. moments later she was kissing sylvia’s cheek with a thank you, promising that she’d come see her but she knew that wouldn’t be happening. vision wavy, the ground moved beneath her while she pushed out of the bathroom and into the bustling crowd of plan b. it was later now, belly didn’t know how later, but it had to of been a couple hours. 

belly had to do a double take. when the fuck did she get a glass of champagne? with a shrug, she took a chug of it to swallow down the nasty taste of.... shit, she forgot to ask sylvia what she had just done. it was hot in there so she whipped off her sweatshirt and threw it over her shoulder. it had been liam’s anyway, fuck that guy. and then she finished the champagne and set it down on a table for someone else to deal with. if she held onto it any longer she would have broken glass in her hand, bet anyone. 

enamored, her glassy eyes found something, or rather someone, to fix on. he had fire on his head, constellations peppering his face. a defined nose, hips that rolled to the beat of a song she couldn’t even hear. her senses were fucky. she was fucky. but there he was with an audience and for a moment belly became one with the crowd. she “woo’d!” and “ow, ow’d!” through cupped hands, fanning herself because bodies smashed together around this stage had her warm. and then, buttons by the pussycat dolls practically boomed into her eardrums. someone had to of turned the music to full blast and belly couldn’t handle herself. the need to dance took over.

she jumped up on a table, dried mud from her converse leaving behind a trail of crumbs like a grimm’s fairytale. dancing, eyes glued to mr. magic mike on fire up on the stage until she got his attention too. “come on baby! dicks out for harambe!” still moving her hips and with arms in the air she tapped her wrist like there was a watch there. “time’s money, honey! take it off!”

@olliedavis​