The Block Out

chapter one

CHAPTER ONE - INDIANA.

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There's something powerful about red lipstick.

It might be the theatre-kid in me that loves the look of it, but I do like to think of it as a confidence booster. I know on my worst days, over-thinking and anxiety coursing through my veins, a single swipe of red and I'll feel like I'm on top of the world. It's a trivial little thing, when push comes to shove, but it's one that I've relied on for as long as I can remember, knowing make-up existed.

I cap the lid of my Ruby Woo, before slipping it inside my bra. At the same time, I pull the underwire of my bra down and rearrange the girls for a bit more of a show. They're hidden by a black lace one-piece and accompanied by my favourite black leather jacket and black ripped jeans. I assess my look in the mirror; hair curled, make-up done, outfit styled. Presentation is one thing that I've always had at the forefront of my mind. The sinking feeling in my stomach rises at the mere thought—my need to embody perfection is a trait inherited from my parents, a trait I know will never slip from my mind at this stage in my life.

I shake my head; rid those thoughts. I'm a thousand miles away from my family, the last thing I need is to be thinking of them right now.

Turning on my heel, I stalk out of the bathroom and toward the room next to it, banging on the door in three, quick raps. The door flings open, and I eye my polar opposite from head to toe.

Gabrielle's dressed like a woodland pixie, speckled pink and silver glitter on her cheeks and all. I quirk a brow at her, a slow-rising smile forming on my lips as she stands, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat.

"I mean, you look hot, but would it kill you to wear anything other than black?" she questions, a teasing glint to her tone.

"I could say the same thing about you except for shades of pale pink and blue," I reply.

It's funny, you haven't a clue what your roommates are going to be like when you arrive on your first day. I remember being nervous, which is a trait I often don't hold. I was though on that day because I know what I'm like. I know that I can be a bit hard to handle, and what if I was responsible for driving my future roommates out of our room and into another? I'd feel horrible.

Thankfully, I lucked out.

"You look cute," I say, reaching out to pull a piece of stray hair off her shoulder. She grins her thanks and follows me out towards our small kitchenette. "Em still getting ready?" I question, reaching up to grab the bottle of vodka we have hidden behind three different boxes of cereal – because God forbid we all agree on the same thing to eat for breakfast. No, that's what one gets for slamming three opposite personalities into the same dorm room.

I turn around, bottle and three shot glasses in hand to find Gabrielle pouting down at her phone. I quirk a brow, a smile on my lips as I watch her, knowing that there's only one person she could be texting to warrant that facial expression. She tosses her phone down haphazardly onto the table and shrugs, "I don't know. I tried banging on her door like five minutes ago and she told me to go away."

Gabrielle likes to compare the three of us to the Powerpuff Girls. She's Bubbles, Emma is Blossom and I'm Buttercup. It's fitting, really. Emma tends to be the more reliable and life-smart out of the three of us, Gabrielle keeps us together with her butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth personality, and I'm the headstrong one. Apparently.