We've all heard and devoured the classic trope involving the shenanigans of a jock, a princess, a nerd, and a criminal. Although who knows of the trouble capable of ensuing when The Breakfast Club isn't PG-13 anymore?
That's the 2007 freshman batch...
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23rd July 2007 Arlington University
""Hey, Em, bad timing. I'm a little busy with something right now," I hold the phone between my head and my shoulder, struggling with the sleeves of my jersey. "I'll definitely catch up with you later in the evening though."
"You really picked that up?" She frantically whispers, fidgeting with her blonde tresses stuck in the hook of her metallic blue bralette, not bra–as I had come to understand from one of my previous mishaps and the lecture that followed. Although, I wouldn't have minded a earful from this one. Nothing too extraordinary, just that those golden locks of hers, tragically remind me of someone else.
"Hey, you don't get to reprimand me for not being into it, unless we are dating. Right?"
"I'm not dating you, Bailey," she clearly states and yet throws a smirk in my direction, giving some very mixed signals.
"But I am the perfect guy. Top athlete of the university, scary enough to shove any guy who tries to make advances at you, and a brainiac to top it all." She simply stares. "Or is it true that Rachel Stinson is now into geeks?" I ask, having heard of her recent break up with this spectacled, Garfield obsessed guy in her environmental sciences classes.
"First of all, I know you are talking about Jake, and, no, he wasn't a geek. At least, in the sack he wasn't," she mumbles, well aware I heard it all. "Secondly, I would say that you left out 'a great sense of humour,' but the speech was a proof of it." A prideful grin makes itself home on her glossed lips, while I'm partially offended and partly in awe of her. "As much as you flatter yourself for all these qualities, there isn't a chance here. However, I'll give you one for those blue eyes."
"That's even better. The diva of Arlington had a fling with George Bailey. Sounds amazing if you ask me."
"You better not open your mouth about this in front of anyone," she hisses, while her baby pink painted nails rest at the nape of my neck. Ferocious and aesthetic never looked better.
"Alright, alright, I won't tell anyone." As much as I wanted to keep my well coveted image of being referred to as Arlington's OG player, both on and off the field– the creases on my jersey staying conceited for sometime won't be a matter of trouble. In fact, just reminiscing it over and over in a loop, makes my entire being go into a state of frenzy. As it turns out, caffeine didn't stand a chance in front of the sugar laced tongue of Rachel Stinson.
Not a thing to complain about, but I'd prefer if it wasn't so dark out here. I'm not denying that scream's taught us a grimy house has its own kinky appeal, but the occasional strain of sunlight falling on the slick of our bodies didn't seem as good as I had hoped. On the other hand, it was indeed surprising to finally discover that our university had a basement. Judging by all the off brown sheets wrapped over the furniture and the clusters of cigarette butts on the creaky floor, it appeared the authorities have forgotten all about it too.
