Hi Laura! I'm Tally, nice to meet you! We have a few questions we like to ask new twifties, so if you want to answer, here they are!
1) How old are you?
2) What genre(s) do you write?
1) How old are you?
2) What genre(s) do you write?
Hi Laura! I'm Tally, nice to meet you! We have a few questions we like to ask new twifties, so if you want to answer, here they are!
1) How old are you?
2) What genre(s) do you write?
Blake’s air conditioner was on, for some godforsaken reason, and so she grabbed the remote, hitting five buttons before succeeding in turning it off. She pulled open her bottom drawer, pulled out eight pairs of pants before finding her Free City sweats, and stepped into them, leaving the rest of her clothes in an inelegant pile on the floor. She did up the clasp of the bra she hadn’t bothered to take off the night before, then grabbed her toiletry bag and went into the hall.
It took five full minutes for a bathroom to free up. She passed the time banging on everyone else’s doors until they woke up, throwing someone else’s half-washed laundry out of the machine and into a basket to free up space for her previous dump of clothes on the floor, and trying (and failing) to pick the lock on the supply closet. Finally, a sophomore named Preet left the biggest washroom, and Blake could brush her teeth and wash her face and pee out last night’s alcohol intake like a normal person. She went back to her room, chugged down the frappucino Cami had fetched for her—it was chocolate, her least favourite—and put on some moisturizer, before heading down to the dining hall for breakfast.
She hated everyone there except for Cami, so she didn’t linger at the Nespresso machine or the pancake stand, taking the maple syrup jug back to the table with her. She collapsed across from Cami.
“You need a shower, bro,” Cami said helpfully. Blake pretended to dump maple syrup on her head. Next to Cami was Cami’s latest boyfriend, whose name was either Julian or Luke. Blake hated him like she hated most people, so she didn’t acknowledge his presence until he spoke.
“How long d’you think it’ll be until Mona yells at you for being here in sweatpants?” he said, with a nod toward Mona Holmes, their breakfast supervisor.
“Longer than your dick,” mumbled Blake through a mouthful of pancake. It was a pretty terrible line, but it still sent Luke-or-Julian blushing scarlet.