Shots - Frat!l.h.

Nine: Nora

i was listening to 102 by matty healy during the end of thsi so soz if its sappy lol

this is dedicated to forevereyes for always leaving a lil comment that makes me smile x

"I survived because the fire within me burned brighter than the fire around me." -Joshua Graham

Nora Keilee

It had been two days after I had caught Luke in bed with some girl, and my head hurt. I didn't understand him; not one bit. One moment he was asking me to sleep in the same bed as him, and the next he had a random girl in it. I didn't have anything against him having sex, that was fine, but I just... didn't understand him.

Plus, the painting. I had been able to catch a glimpse as I had put my clothes back on, my throat tightening at the sight of it. If that was really what he thought of me, such a vicious depiction of who I was, then obviously I had done something wrong. I didn't even know what I had done. I just knew that at that moment, he felt something so raw, so angry. It might not have even been directed at me, but looking at it hurt.

It made me regret even agreeing to to do the job. I had been approached by some art student, some girl with brown hair a bit darker than mine, who went by Olivia. She had said that I would get paid for it, and, at the time, I was desperate to help my family. Even if it meant being naked in front of a room of artists.

Three-hundred dollars was not worth it.

He was everywhere and nowhere, all at once. He was complicated. Nothing about him was easy.

I felt betrayed, and I didn't even understand why. I didn't have any feelings for him, so him sleeping with another girl didn't do anything to me.

At least, that's what I was trying to convince myself.

I was so confused.

I held the cup of coffee up to my mouth, closing my lips around the rim to sip some of it.

"How are your classes going?" I asked Ronan as he sat across from me.

He shrugged. We hadn't been taking the same classes, mainly because he focused more on fitness and soccer than anything else, and I tended to focus more on the academics. I was taking eight classes, and he was only taking five. The time that I would spend on classwork, he'd be at the gym. Or on the field.

"Dunno, I've only gone to like, three of them," He said. I knew for a fact that he'd missed one of his classes, but I was expecting to have to beat it out of him.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you missing classes?"

He shrugged again. "I don't like going to them, I'd much prefer working on my dribbling."

"Stop using sports lingo with me, you know I won't understand it," I said. "Seriously, though. If you need help with some of your classes, I can help--"

"Because you took them all in high school, blah blah blah, I get it."

I frowned. "You don't have to be a dick, you know."

"I'm sorry," He sighed, placing his head on the coffee stained table in the middle of Brewed Awakening. "Coach has just been grilling me about how he wants me to start, but I don't know if I am. Plus, because I'm a freshman, all of the older players hate me, since I'm taking one of their spots."

I rolled my eyes. "You know that your coach would only put you on if he thought you were good enough. And you are, I might be the Academic One, but you've always been the Athletic One, and you're a damn good soccer player."