Kendra  	while she had the bad habit of getting drunk, usually without escort and after maybe three drinks. Kendra recovered relatively quickly, generally with the introduction of coffee or a cat nap. Became vaguely aware of her favorite scent, and it conjured a smile to lips. The brush of a kiss to forehead would prompt lashes to flutter open, and mocha depths looked up at Kian's turned head as he watched after Jeong. Fingers curling around his wrist to give a small tug. Hey cutie.
Nick  	appears. Like toast.
  	is just rhyming with his sister.
Flick  	weirdo.
Nick  	d'aw. Okay...
Flick  	hugged him.
Kian  	Oh what heavy shit he was in now. Couldn't help but think that there was a better way he could've handled the entire thing. Things that could be better said to Jeong instead of just.. letting him off like that. But for now? The princess was awake. Eyes looked when his wrist had been tugged. "Woman." His brows furrowed. "You're bra-less and you're drunk. Don't think for one second we're not having this conversation." Pouted. "But hey." Leaned to kiss that wonderful mouth of her's.
Nick  	actually squeaked. Yay hugs.
Flick  	nudged. Don't get a big head now.
Colin  	His cheeks erupted then, nearly mimicking the raspberry red hues on some of his pieces. "Ah... nah, but thank you. I'm just a freshman. Just learning. You an pick 'em up. Those are dry." Chewing hard on his bottom lip, he watched the redhead take in his growing collection of works. "I was going for that. My mother has this huge garden and all I did as a child was play there. It was my whole weird little world, and all these colors around." One hand made vague gestures as he tried to articulate it. "Just chasin' that magic." He sighed. "It fuckin' takes forever. I think I'm in here more than anybody else. I just recently started, like, getting out more." Regarding the pattern choices, he ran hisfingers over an overstuffed binder next to the nearby desk surface. "I usually try to see what the shape wants to be, but I have a bunch of examples in here. Like..." Here he took a delicately curved vase, still in its smooth and chocolate-hard clay form, from the shelves. "Like this. It wants to be fluid. It wants to move, ya know? Dynamic lines, I think. But shallow. Just a hint, because the shape is already moving. Does that make sense?" His eyes met Patrick's, hoping he was explaining it alright.
Nick  	his small head is overshadowed by--
  	rolls a dice and gets 15 out of 20.
  	THESE MAJESTIC ABS.
  	cue heavenly choir.
Flick  	pulled his shirt down.
🇨​🇦​🇱​  	if it made Jeong feel any better, Cal hadn't been ignoring his messages specifically. She had all her alerts turned off, mostly. The rougher around the edges Keller had been spending the last couple hours at the school's gym. While small in stature, there was definitive (if feminine) muscle. It was later as she was unwinding bandages from hands, flexing them to return some sensation but feeling the tingling numbness.. that she glanced towards cell and the multitude of missed messages. Who'd thought a bitch like her would be so popular? Picked up phone and began scrolling through.
Jeong  	Lifted both of his hands and ran them through his hair. Wait. He just realized his appearance. He looked like a mess because he was still in Art Mode. Damn it. Well, too late to head back to his dorm now and he'd rather not run across Kian and Kendra at the moment. Seemed like they needed to talk about something, so he'd rather not interrupt. Eventually, he got the the cafe, flagged down one of the other barista's and ordered a grande coffee with a little sugar.
Nick  	frowned. Was it not impressive?
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	actually played a video of a choir on his phone.
Nick  	see, this is why Samuel is the unrevivaled (unrivaled) in coolness.
Flick  	Sam, you are not helping! Won't comment on impressiveness. Is not the right person for that.
Nick  	why not? Tells her that her battle scars are cool. All the time.
Kendra  	and her prince was there to save her from whatever bullshit Kendra might have gotten herself into. Even if they had a silly, miscommunication prior. Brought on, once again, because of all his female association. Which was humorous, considering how she had a 'reputation' prior to them getting together -- unjustly, due to his inability to not tell people how they hooked up. Leaned upwards to meet the quick kiss that followed his serious tone, not at all ashamed for being the subject of his annoyance. Kian had sought her out, purposefully, and so long as he did. That meant things were fine. "..Do you want to have it here, or in your room?" breaking the kiss to give him what passed for an innocent look.
Flick  	would like to say they are two different points of perspective. Know what, have at it. Just realised she's been doing what men have been doing to women forever.
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	suddenly drops his phone when Flick yells at him. Oops.
Flick  	hopes it didn't break.
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	doesn't want to check.
Patrick  	Patrick, for his part, only worked in shades of red - though the full gambit of shade, hue and saturation - working from Spanish carmine and shiraz though to maroon and oxblood. He never tired of what he could do with red in his hands - but others worked so well with the full expression of colour. Patrick stepped closer, "Yeh, I used to spend all my time outside when I was a kid, you couldn't get me to stay in the house - loved it. S'why I'm always so fuckin' happy around spring. That colour's so refreshin', like the whole world takes a big breath of inspiration - " he finished, listening to the blond speak in the name of the unfinished work, "Like more a brook or a stream," he said, noting the slow, languid sway of the work's silhouette, reminding him of the slow, natural meander of a boreal river. "You're real talented, man. This work's beautiful and you're only in your first year - I can tell you're refining and still actually enjoying the process, that's fuckin' wicked admirable," he caught himself, waxing verbose when excited was a near constant for him. "I mean, I've never seen anythin' so put together," he finished, cracking that wry, crooked smirk.
Flick  	will pay, if it is. Don't worry.
Jeong  	Got his coffee and just started. Tapping his foot a little. He was nervous still. Why? He was unsure. Pulled out his phone and unlocked it, typing out a message with his thumb to Cal again as he drank a little of his beverage. 'hry if youre not busy csn you meet me at deja brrw? need to tell you smething.'
Nick  	where is Flick getting all this moolah?
  	can she be the new mom?
  	can he get his weekly allowance today?
Flick  	stared. well, their mum is a lawyer for one. for two, she doesn't spend her money very often at all. sooo... she has a stash.
  	plusthosfightsshebetson.
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	picks up the phone, but shoves it in his pocket real fast. She doesn't need to do that, she's too kind.
Flick  	shrugs. Was kind of her fault.
🇨​🇦​🇱​  	after several minutes would find the messages from Jeong. A damp towel wiping at the back of neck, as she took the necessary time to cool off before seeking a shower. The first was a rendition of the sketch he had been idly toying with at the Brew before, but on a grander scale as it stared at her from canvas. It irked her, as if something about the beauty of it, was mocking. Jeong hadn't painted Cal at all, just someone that resembled her. A face that was perfect and didn't know anything about the night terrors that still plagued her. And then she saw the comment about the fierceness of her eyes, and she softened a centimeter or two. Next was asking what she thought of the picture. How did Cal reply to that? Honestly? Jokingly? Brows furrowed with thought, even as a new message came through asking to meet at the Brew. Jeong wasn't going to ask what she thought in person was he? 'Yeah, that's doable. Just give me thirty.' opting not to comment at all to the prior messages.
Kian  	Would never bring up the things she used to do. Knows she was... rather adventurous. At least, before she and Kian were a thing. God help Kian if she's never changed her ways, because ever since their first night together, it's mostly been about Kendra. Sometimes Gemma. And sometimes Mary Angela. Or even the subtle way a certain professor looks at him. But! That's beside the point. Of course he was going to go look for her. She threatened to party without him. And she hasn't texted him since. Which only meant that a drunk Kendra was probably stumbling into some random skater-boy, looking for M&Ms. "We're having it here, babe." Smiled to help her up, resting her head on his shoulder. He did, however, curl arms around her waist. "So uh-- did-- did anyone hit on you? At-- at the club or-- party or-- whatever?"
Jeong  	Sat at a booth as he had his phone on the table. Seeing the messages from Cal, he noticed she didn't say anything about the painting or anything prior to wanting to meet here. Well, he'd wait since this was something important. Now, let's see if he was able to actually say anything. After seeing how this conversation would go, he would ask about the painting...Maybe.
Colin  	The guy was making him blush hard, and Colin wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He was curious to see Patrick's work. Something about the young man, and not just the talent he'd seen in that drawing, told him that it was going to be incredible. Also, he was getting bashful about the praise. It wasn't the first time he'd heard good feedback, but from this one it felt more... just more. "Exactly. I want to make all of that life and beauty all year round. It was really helpful to me during the winter. Helps the seasonal blues, right?" The vase he held did remind him of a stream. Patrick was reading his mind, but probably didn't realize where he'd just gotten the inspiration from. "It'll be mostly blue; water moving... and then a pale cream beneath." He was staring at the redhead now, at his skin, eyes, and hair. "Tiny flecks of chocolate. Just little hints of it in the cream and then flashes of amber..." His fingers curled around the piece's top now. "Like koi beneath the surface, flashing in the sun." His throat cleared and he gave a half-smile, lifting a hand to adjust one of Patrick's red locks back from his forehead. "Amber and fire. But thank you. I'm fuckin' blushing over here, guy. You're too kind, yeah?"
Kendra  	it was true that Kendra liked to take chances, to know that one day looking back she wouldn't have regrets for the things she didn't try. That she would never be sorry for following her instinct or heart, when the world tried to tell her it was stupid or wrong. If she had listened to such nonsense, the two of them wouldn't be a thing. Which had honestly, been pretty terrific.. despite their fights. Coaxed into a sitting position, legs would drape over his as she scooted as close into his side as possible. Enjoying the warmth of his arms around waist, and the tickle of his breath on her skin. "Probably, I didn't pay attention," fingers tracing idle circles over his chest, smiling softly at what could pass for jealousy in his voice. "..I was wondering when you'd track me down," indicating that it's what she had desired all along.
Emmett Thompson  	Yawns.
Flick  	nibbles on some lays.
Emmett Thompson  	eyes the bag. Can I haz some?
Flick  	tosses a spare packet. Ain't sharing.
Richard Plasse  	Lo.
🇨​🇦​🇱​  	it was actually more like forty-five minutes later, because Cal had stopped once or twice for a cigarette on the walk over. The polite thing to do, would be to message him an apology that she was running late. Especially considering how much she disliked others being late. But there was a certain agitation that gnawed beneath, and she was afraid of sounding like a bitch. For once caring whether or not she might be hurting someone else. In the end she arrived, a disheveled mess that looked like the poster child for a car garage or a week long rock concert. Slender hands snug in back pockets, as she found Jeong relatively quickly given the lack of warm bodies at this hour. An up nod was given to the barista, who had at this point just rolled their eyes and began prepping her coffee -- subtracting it from Kian's share of tips. Before swaggering over to join the puppy that looked as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. "Hey, you alright van Gogh?" pausing at the table to lean forward, blonde head tilting as she tried to catch his gaze.
Emmett Thompson  	Catches it. Beggars can't be choosers.
Flick  	waves to the professor.
Patrick  	Pats was more than familiar with 'seasonal blues' but chose to belay that conversation, at least until the tan line from the fancy plastic bracelet wore away - first impressions weren't warmed by a festive tale from the psych ward. He felt the other's basil and honeyed eyes on him, like a warm, welcomed weight - not distracting from his words, but adding something more to the phrasing. He gave a slow grin, feeling heat burning him under the tasteful white tee, lifting a scarlet glow onto his face below the healthy blaze of freckles. "Ah, no - no problem," he started to stammer, however at the touch test, Patrick felt something like the fresh crackle of new ice inside him - lifting his own palm to return the favour, spiraling a stray tousle of sandy blond between his clever artist's fingers to smooth it back behind Colin's ear. Pausing f

or a second, his jovial expression flattening to something more serious, noticing the contrast between the other's olive and hunting for sunkissed pale complexion against his own cream and rose palm, subtly drawing a thumb over the crest of the blond's jaw. His seriousness would break as he pulled back with that grin, tucking those traitorous hands back into his coat pockets, aggressively cracking knuckles as his train of thought tripped over itself and derailed completely. "I, ah... Wanna get a drink or something?" He asked, then corrected himself, "I mean, I might've brought some in my pack, if you don't wanna go far. I'm - I'm lookin' for a new workin' space - an' I saw a nice wall," he directed with a nod to the back of the building, a disused shed he'd spotted on the way - chances of surveillance against the treeline would be sparse.
Kian  	The only regret Kian would have at this juncture in his life, was doing something so incredibly stupid that he'd lose Kendra. He doesn't want to lose the one good thing in his life. No. That's not true. There was Cal. And for as much as Cal hid herself in a mask that was dark and unloving, she was a rare ray of sunshine just waiting to be seen. His arms folded around her even tighter. Lips pressed against the crook of her neck. "No? But you love being flirted with." Took a deep breath just to have a smell of her hair. Smiled. "You love it when guys tell you oh Kendra your hair looks good today. Oh Kendra, nice rack. Oh Kendra, your Blowjob skills are on point." Kian's voice didn't exactly captured the male population perfectly, because it was mocking intentionally. The last one? Might have been a bit too much. "Sorry, I'll stop, I'll stop."
Connor  	I almost choked on my chips, gdi Kian //
Flick  	glad that isn't her brother. )
Nick  	but Flick knows the truth >:) )
Patrick  	The bit about the nice rack, or the one sayin' it. I mean, could take it either way. ]
Flick  	just stares. stares into his soul. )
Jeong  	His foot was tapping quickly before he finally made it fucking stop. He looked up and gave that warm smile that he always had to ward Cal once she leaned over and took up his vision. He honestly didn't look much better, still wearing that grey sweatshirt he used when painting, with matching grey sweat pants. He couldn't afford multiple smocks, so he improvised. He even had his glasses on and his hair was far more disheveled than usual. Mostly from him running his hands through it. "Oh! Hey, Cal." He swallowed. "I uh...I need a clever nickname for you." He let out a small chuckle, "And yeah. I'm fine. Just. I need to tell you something. So when you get your coffee, we should probably get some where less public because I don't want either of us feeling super awkward about people that may hear anything." Oh, God he was rambling again. NErvous habit.
Connor  	continues trying not to choke on his food from laughter. //
Flick  	pats Connor's back. He'll be okay. )
Kendra  	there was a short list of things that Kian should never do, if he wanted to keep Kendra. Lie, cheat, take her for granted. The rest of it? All could be forgiven with just a flash of his smile, a wiggle of fingertips on sides, or the caress of lips on hers. Kendra just needed to know that he was with her. Everything else was just noise. Albeit some more of a nuisance in pitch than others. She wasn't a big fan of other girls, nor did they particularly like her. Delicate brow lifted as he began to tease her, first with the kiss to neck that sent a tingling warmth down to her belly. And then with stating facts. It was true that Kendra thought she was one of the hottest girls on campus, and enjoyed the attention that came with it. But that didn't mean index and thumb wouldn't work in harmony to grasp nipple through his thin t-shirt and give it a harsh twist. A promise of what her mouth was eager to do once they were back at his dorm. Giggling at the last bit, even as she tugged mercilessly on sensitive nub in retaliation. "Are you jealous Keller?" mouth angling towards his ear, permitting teeth to nip at ear lobe. "Oh Kendra, you're ass is so juicy can I eat it? Oh Kendra, your pussy is so tight it's insane. Oh Kendra, Oh Kendra, baby.. please," mimicking the exact pitch of his moans. Okay, she might still be a little buzzed.
Richard Plasse  	Was out in just a pair of black pants and a tucked in short sleeved button up. Belt and his glasses. Freshly shaven and still enjoying the after party of Outcinema's movie and after party night. He was swimming in pride events and would be seen at most all of them if he could. Right now he was settled at a table with a mojito in hand and chatting with one of the queens that showcased the film about drag culture. He chuckled lightly and shook his head as he chatted, charismatic as he was it wasn't hard to engage the professor- off duty. " An after.. after party? Where? You're inviting me- Ahah.. sure- I'm not tired at all. Can go all night." He joked while he sipped.
Emmett Thompson  	There was something to be said about those who toiled late into the night; an old saying was that dreams were worked on outside of the usual nine-to-five. And that's what Emmett was doing. The young man eyed the barbell infront of him, and the plates residing on both sides. Easily an eight-hundred pull, which the inkling of dread was eating away at his soul. With an empty gym, and only the camera of his android staring him down, seconds ticking by as they recorded him psyching himself out, the strength athlete was all alone. With a sigh, he positioned himself properly, barbell over the middle of his feet, and bent his knees until his shins touched the bar. "You fucking got this," he murmured to himself. Palms which were caked in white chalk found p

urchase along the grid-like texture just outside of both his legs, and he straightened his back. Eight-hundred pounds, a new fucking PR. Eyed rested on the camera, and he pulled upwards, standing upright. Despite the chalk, the bar burned his hands, the callouses which formed at the point where fingers met the palm ached. Slowly the bar rose, legs suddenly buckling as he attempted the dead-lift. A series of grunts occurred, and he roared in defiance; then he gave out. The bar slipped from his grasp and hit the floor, making a resounding thud despite the poly-foam mats that were positioned on the platform to lessen the impact. With a defeated groan, Emmett screamed profanities at no one in particular; maybe just himself and his weakness. Weeks of wo

rk, a program which was sound...and still, no progress. Hands rose to cover his face and he screamed once more, suppressing the sound. Despite the chalk caked on his face, he found his phone, skulking to the ground in a defeated manner. He located the text convo between him and Sawyer and sighed. 'I need to let out some frustration,' he typed out. 'DTF?' With the message sent, he received no response; it was late after all. He contemplated messaging Juniper, but figured she was already asleep. Another sigh escaped his lips as the feeling of anger washed from him; he needed a drink. That's when he located Cal's number and shot her a text; 'I need to knock back some booze. Not a cheat day, but I need to get rid of some anger. You down for a binger?'
Colin  	He wondered if Patrick understood that he meant to do up the piece in the colors of him. Maybe he'd been too subtle, but maybe not. At any rate, he wasn't going to drive the point home since he was sure the Brit understood and that he just wasn't obvious about it. Goddamn artists, both of them. Had he known of the recent hospital stay, the Canadian wouldn't have judged him. It wasn't like he'd never been in a bad place mentally before. They'd just never managed to tuck him away for it, was all. What kinds of artists would they be if they were mentally sound? They locked eyes again; the warmth of all his spring and the chill of the other's autumn meeting in the space between them.
  	His touch was slight but he felt it like a punch. Colin's nerve endings lit up, following the path of his fingertips behind his ear as he hoped like hell that he didn't have clay stuck in either place. At least it would be understood. The moment slowed as Patrick seemed to be searching him. Colin stayed still to allow whatever it was to become apparent, and those same nerves rejoiced at his thumb's little stroke. Jesus. He let out a long breath, trying to contain his mind's flights of fancy as that smooth accent kissed his ears. "I would be happy to come and look at walls with you," was his eventual answer. He had no idea that they'd literally be painting the town red.
  	( rubs face. )
Patrick  	Tired? ]
Colin  	( No, I just couldn't get it to post properly. )
  	( but nearly. )
Patrick  	I know the frustration, finger folly. ]
Colin  	( I should have another post or two left, unless you need to pause. )
Patrick  	Nah, I can keep goin', don't got work until late tomorrow. ]
Colin  	( Ah, good. )
Laurens Hall  	exists, for the moment, if at least to make sure the janitors had cleaned the rehearsal spaces.
Kian  	returns from AFK to see Kendra mocking his sex moans. Yo wtf, woman. )
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	has broken glass jingling in his pocket. Turns out his phone did break.
Flick  	felt slightly bad.
Nick  	says a little prayer for Sam's phone.
  	they should get him a new Nokia.
Flick  	doesn't know who Nick is.
Nick  	FLICK'S SUFFERING FROM AMNESIA!!!
  	:(
Flick  	no. Just biased.
𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙚𝙡  	attempts to hide it. No, no, no-
Flick  	hisses at Nokia.
Connor  	choked again.
Flick  	thinks Connor needs to stop putting things in his mouth.
Jeong  	Foot began tapping again. Practically smacked his leg. Stop it.
Connor  	probably just needs more practice.
Tiffany  	looked around.
Flick  	didn't think he could come back from that. Impressed.
🇨​🇦​🇱​  	it was evident that whatever was going on with Jeong, it was chewing away at him like a pitbull did a bone. A faint smirk was given as he took notice of her arrival, as if being caught sleeping during a final. "Just Cal is fine," scrunching nose at the idea of a nickname, not a fan of them when tossed in her direction as they were usually terribly cliche. Nod was given of head as Jeong insisted he was alright, only then indicating he wanted to talk. Elsewhere. Then why did he ask to meet at the Brew? "Jeong, are you on something right now?" straightening to her full height, one hand rising from pocket to run through messy damp locks. She didn't comment on his sweats, to each their own. But she was concerned. "You asked me to the Brew, and now you want to leave?" repeating the events for him, as if this would help piece together the timeline that he may be lost on.
Richard Plasse  	He stood outside waiting for an uber with one of the out of drag queens. Lowered his glasses to clean them, when he parted his lips he noticed the other looking at him. Mainly his mouth. He used his shirt to clean the smudges from them and slipped them back on. Grinned down at his shoes laceless leather boots. When they got into the car he glanced out of the window, then turned back to ask what was said a moment ago. He didn't catch it but what he did catch had nothing to do with words. "!!"
Connor  	He likes words. What can he say.
Flick  	gave a shrug. Just likes wit.
  	maybe because of what she grew up with. A lack thereof.
Kian  	Kian wasn't one to lie, cheat, or take her for granted. Hell, he was so into her it wasn't even funny. Every moment he sees a girl, she thinks of Kendra. Well, a girl he doesn't know, at least. He respects the people around him enough not to replace the face with another. There were people that were important too. The sudden pinch of his nipple caused him to jerk on the bench, nearly pushing her off of him. "Hey. Ow. That-- that hurt..." Rubbed at the injured area few times. His brow furrowed at her. Gaze sized up her frame a few times. God, he was never going to get used to the sight of Kendra. "I'm not jealous! I'm no-- I'm not. No. Never. Never ever." Was taken aback by the mocking of his own... uh-- sexual tendencies. "Okay, hold on. I don't

ask if I can eat it... I never-- I never do that..." The last part was whispered. "And second of all, It is insane. Like, what the fuck is that a Chinese Finger Trap?" He was talking about pu-- nevermind. Palmed her face slightly, but not exactly enough force to actually hurt her. He knew she was still buzzed, which is exactly why he was being playful. She was funny, even if most girls didn't like her. They were jealous of her. Jealous because of how amazing she actually is. Lowered his hand slowly, the laughters slowly beginning to subside. The smile fading for a temporary moment. And in the silence, he'd speak the words he's never said his entire life to another human being that wasn't related, or a Martinelli. "I love you, Kendra."

Kendra  	if it made Kian feel any better. Since they started dating, she had disabled her Tinder account. Although the gesture was still comically prominent when dealing with first impressions of other guys. Don't worry babe, it was always to the left, to the left. Kendra was glad that Kian had so many supportive people in his life. She had racist adoptive parents that wanted to squash her dreams of dancing, and no actual friends on campus. Partly because she was so egotistical, and then because some wrongfully assumed she was trying to steal their men. It didn't help she had a healthy and mature thought process of the difference between sex and a relationship. But she had far less sexual partners

than one would think. Guys were easily intimidated at times. The verbal and physical protest of her revenge, was sweet music to her ears. Not as heavenly as the croon of his hitched breath or groans, but up there. Laughing, a bit too loudly, a bit too bubbly and happily as Kian became flustered and batted palm at face to shush her from spilling his secrets. No one was around to give a damn, yet he was turning as red as her panties. Forehead coming to rest lightly against his, as arms curled about neck giving an affectionate squeeze. Feeling the shift in the mood, not unpleasant, just softer as if their hearts were attempting to politely interject themselves over the banter and hormones. Las

hes fluttering closed as noses rubbed lightly into one another, only for those four words to be conjured into existence. For a moment keeping her eyes closed, as if afraid in opening them, that whatever had just transpired was an idle fantasy. That someone, as good-hearted as Kian Keller, loved her. Not the idea of her. Brown eventually refocusing to meet his gaze as head shifted back slightly, "Say it again?" A whispered plea, which was uncharacteristic of Kendra Maine. Unless you happened to be her boyfriend, and had become quite knowledgeable on how soft of a nougat center she had. "Just one more time?" knuckles of one hand lowering to run the length of his jaw, promising him everything.

Kian  	Well, of course it would make him feel much better. There were nights where he'd lie awake, feeling sick to his stomach just thinking about how many men were swiping right to Kendra's face. And it's not that he didn't trust her, it's just that he's met a good portion of men who were willing to risk life and limb for even the softest 'handy' from a girl like Kendra. Kian's heard about her parents. And try as he may, there was nothing he could do. Those were int he past. But day after day after day, he's convinced himself that he'd never let her go through that kind of thing. Ever again. Didn't think she had actual friends. He was never introduced to any of them. And it made Kian feel things. Sadness. But not pity. No one should ever pity Kendra Maine. She deserved more than anyone's pity. Nobody pitied a goddess. As for lack of sex partners? Yeah right. Kendra's had more of her fair share of that. Would slam the

bullshit button if he could. But only to go as far as to tease her. Yeah, while it was true that no one was around to see them, he wasn't exactly used to having Kendra just tell him sexual conversations in the middle of nowhere. Once she even talked about sex in his room, while Nick was inflating an indoor swimming pool. Yeah. Fucking weird. But that's what his life was. Wasn't it? Life was just weird. He was weird. Kendra was weird. But Kian takes the good with the bad. Constantly. Kendra was his first mistake. And she's going to be his last mistake. Or at least, that's what he hoped. Because she was everything and nothing. All the words in the dictionary couldn't find a single word to express what he felt for her. Because more than just the physical stuff, she made him feel like life was worth living. Yeah. Cheesy shit, he knows. But you try being a lose for more than half of your life, and have the perfect girl like y

ou for who you are. His eyes settled on her's, a few blinks made her way. Arms instinctively pinched at her sides, pulling her closer towards him. "You're a dirty ho, Kendra Maine." He laughed once again, but even that was fleeting. And as soon as it had disappeared, he planted a subtle kiss upon the side of her lips, to where a tiny mole was located. One kiss. And another. And another. And another. He knew exactly why she wanted to hear it. Because for the longest time, men have wanted her for how she looked like, and not for what she was. Take away all the physicality of Kendra Maine, and you'd be left with a person who just wanted so desperately to be herself. And Kian saw that. He knows. He's been there. Pressed a hand against her cheek. Warming it. "I love you. I love you so, so, so much, Kendra." His thumb grazed against her lips. "Because if I didn't I wouldn't have spent last week's tips on a box of M&M's."

Kendra  	meanwhile, his princess had no problem falling asleep. Either curled into his side, or buried in the loneliness of her own sheets in Kian's absence. It was the dreams that got to her, as the mind had a habit of logging every single moment that she might have arguably overreacted. Or every possible scenario that led to Kian Keller saying 'fuck it, I'm out'. Of all the things they had discussed to this point, she had failed to admit the truth that he was her first and only boyfriend. As if he would believe her. It was a hard truth for herself to swallow. Being as perfect as she was, consistently, was exhausting. And no one, aside from Kian seemed to appreciate the amount of effort she put into it.

Or to take the time to get to know what she liked or disliked. Or stand up for her. No one had ever taken her side before Kian, no matter how small or insignificant the issue. And yet Kian would tackle a mountain if he thought it was tossing her shade. And Kendra? She would straight stab a bitch for him. There was no guarantee that they would be together forever, or even through next week. But at that precise moment? The exact one that existed between them in vibrant colors that could never properly recaptured on a canvas or movie screen? Forever was the adoring press of his lips to the delicate mole over her lip, and the possessive clutch of his hands. And Kian didn't fail to deliver with telling h

er those beautiful words again, in a croon that made her heart race and knees weak because they were spoken for her benefit. There was a lift of hips, permitting pert derriere to claim the proper throne of his lap. A light kiss given to the side of his mouth, "I love you." A second kiss to the opposite side, "I love you." And a third gentle, soft and yearning to his mouth, "I love you, Kian Keller." The truth that gripped the both of them, potent enough to make them reckless and clumsy in their navigation of it. "Let's go back to your place? I'll let you melt in my mouth instead," nibbling upon his lips, as she herself, surrendered to the perversion as every part of her felt vulnerable and exposed.

Kian  	carries off his princess. TO the castle. The castle he calls Fort Kian-Nick-AndrewMIA (May he rest in peace). It's actually just his dorm room. Will put her to bed. Because she's talking funny, and he likes it. But she's still kinda drunk.