tbh

2. Drama Queen

drama queen

noun

- a person (especially a woman) who acts as though things are much worse than they really are.

➰

Aislin Maisley Astor was pissed.

Hell, she was more than pissed.

She was Joan Rivers pissed.

As she stalked towards her class for that morning, she glared at anyone unfortunate enough to block her way.

"A!" called Maeve Rothschild behind her.

Aislin ignored her, feeling dark satisfaction coil in her stomach as she stomped her Wellington boots on the ground. She felt so very Blair-ish at that moment that she wished she had a silk bow headband to drive the point home.

"A, wait!"

Aislin sighed, paused and blew away some of the wayward blonde hair that fell on her face. Maeve immediately caught up to her, panting.

"Jeez," her friend said, after taking a long inhale. "You're in a hostile mood today."

"Thanks, Sherlock," said Aislin dryly. "I wouldn't have known otherwise."

Maeve waved a hand airily. "Oh, you know what I mean."

She stared up and down at Aislin, eyes surveying. "I know what the problem is. Boy trouble."

"Thanks doc," said Aislin irritably, turning her back on Maeve and walking away. "Glad you didn't graduate with a PhD for nothing."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "So what did your new boyfie do? Did he demand an itinerary from you?"

It was ironic. While most girls complained about having boyfriends that didn't care, Aislin had the complete opposite problem:

All her boyfriends cared a little too much.

"I don't know what the matter is," she said. "At first, they were all fine. And then, little by little, they start getting possessive and stops just a little short from chaining me by the bed."

"Chains?" said Maeve. "Kinky."

Aislin ignored her. "And now Chase wants me to meet his parents. Can you believe that?" She shook her head. "Fucking great."

Chase had just been a fling for Aislin that summer. Although she had reminded him often enough that she wasn't up for anything serious, the Princeton college grad student still seemed to think she was his the One.

Puh-lease. The only things they two both have in common were their inherited classical good looks and Black Am Ex cards.

And if that had been enough for Chase, it certainly wasn't enough for Aislin.

Because unlike most teenage girls her age, Aislin definitely believed in OTPs.

It wasn't just a silly girl daydream; Aislin knew True Love did exist. She had watched it happen several times from her parents to her siblings.

And if there was such a person destined for her, Aislin wanted to find him.

She just had to...take several wrong turns on the way of meeting him.

"Did you tell him that?" asked Maeve.

"Of course I did," she replied. "Screamed it to his face, even. But he just went on as if he didn't even hear."

"I'd have him, if you like," offered Maeve.

Aislin glanced at her friend. "I thought you hated receiving my left overs, Eve."

Maeve didn't flinch; she knew as well as anyone who's ever been anyone that showing weakness could be socially fatal. But Aislin knew it was a sensitive subject for her, even with the lack of flinching. Maeve never particularly liked being referred to as her sidekick.

And Aislin using her much-hated nickname Eve hadn't helped things either.

"If he's hot, of course I'd have some," replied Maeve lightly.

Touché.

"Well, go and have him then," Aislin said. "He's the guy with the Armani watch who's probably toting around a dozen black tulips right in front of our school. I had him wait for over an hour, but he'll be there."

"Black tulips?" Maeve exclaimed. "Those are my favorite flowers!"

Of course you do, Aislin thought with disdain. They symbolize power and strength. And we all know how power hungry you are.

Maeve gave her a light kiss on the cheek, which Aislin immediately wiped off after her so-called friend had excitedly left.

God, she thought, I hate that bitch.

The phone she had slipped into her Louis Vuitton handbag chimed, and Aislin rolled her eyes as she fished it out with slender, perfectly manicured fingers. She was sure it was Ivy again, texting her about another party.

Hey A! Wanna grab something to drink before class starts?

Aislin was right. It was indeed Ivy. That girl had been pestering to be her new bestfriend ever since she saw one of Maeve and Aislin's Oscar-worthy fights. As if. Maeve might be a bitch and then some, but she came from a well-known family and had several A-list contacts in her phone alone.

Ivy was neither, and in Aislin's book, that equaled to loser.

She was about to type out an outright refusal when she stopped. She was in a shitty mood, and what better medicine could help her than a good ol' alchoholic drink?

Ok, she typed. As long as you order me some Ketel One and tonic.With extra limes.

It hadn't even been at least a second when her phone chimed again.

Done.

Aislin smiled.

What better way to start her first day than with a cocktail in one hand?

Hey, cherries :) Since I'm still waiting for more love entries for my upcoming story, I decided to indulge myself in writing some sideline stories, and tbh came up. This is just a doodle story (yeah, I know grammar nazis, but it feels kind of appropriate for me to call it that).

AND NOW I'M GOING TO SHAMELESSLY PROCLAIM:

If any of you has any love stories to share, feel free to pm me in my old username @hapz_2bme (yeah, it's this account). Specific details are especially appreciated (e.g. the way you felt with him, his smile, what attracted you first, your conversations with him etc.)

Love ya! ;)