Generation 5: Chapter three

For once I wished that something like an invisibility cloak existed. Devin acted like a small kid on Christmas who just got an amazing present; his eyes alight with interest and...I couldn't quite place it...amazement? I couldn't care less when a guy would look at me usually, but with him, it was a lot harder to ignore. His gaze was on me like super glue, making it impossible to act normal without accidentally looking in his direction.

So if all else failed…

Running away would be a good idea, right?

Right at that moment, where he had previously been blocking my escape route, a drunken student conveniently bumped into him, spilling the contents of his drink all over Devin’s shirt and starting an argument that gave me the window of opportunity to get the hell out of there…

But it didn't end up being as easy as that.

Once the music stopped the one thing that fueled the attendees to keep swaying their hips and not fall flat on the floor, a row formed. All around me, insults were thrown like sharp stones and I had no shield to hide behind. With an apologetic smile plastered all over face, I gave a weak wave goodbye, repeatedly excusing myself for being ‘too drunk to operate any machinery anymore’. Not saving any time to check what the reaction was upon that, I ducked through one of the doors and ran towards the bathroom.

The chaos that ensued outside could have made the headlines of the university’s newspaper: Friends became foes, ramming into each other and tumbling into the pool, while a group of girls started a cat fight, earning the admiration of a few nerds that sneaked into the party. I could have wept for humanity – who could believe that the species that sent up a spacecraft and landed on the moon could behave like this?

If this was what alcohol did to a person, I never wanted to touch it. Call me stupid, or unwilling to face reality, but I was still clinging desperately to the idea that the world held no evil, and that people were truly good in their hearts…God, I’m an idiot. Repeating that in my own head made me sound like I was high on some sort of experimental drug that was probably meant to make people a little bit happier.

“Hello there,” a sultry voice greeted me from behind. The voice was so smooth, so enigmatic; it literally gave me chills at the back of my neck and made my knees buckle slightly with surprise or maybe even fear, making me forget all about my quarrels that I had been pondering. It was impossible that a voice so dark and mysterious could belong to a human being, and yet it did (to an extremely handsome one at that, too).

“And what would your name be?” he asked.

Don’t say a word.

“Come on, I won’t bite.”

Not a peep, nope.

No one would dare debate that I didn't have some social anxiety issues, albeit small, when it came to speaking guys that were, as Cara would say, “drop dead gorgeous”. So when I felt him caressing my skin and the pressure of his hand on my shoulder…needless to say, I flipped.

“’Scuse me,” avoiding his eyes at all costs, I rushed towards the bathroom door that was calling my name and would guarantee me safety – at least for a little while. 

The door closed behind me with an audible click, signalling I was safe. A few seconds went by, and no determined male was knocking at the door, demanding my presence.

Crisis averted – finally.

My legs seemed to agree, as my knees no longer knocked against each other, and I was left in silence to get out of my bathing suit and dressed into something a little more suitable for walking around campus.  

I had to stifle a laugh as I caught sight of my own expression in the mirror. The fear had left my limbs, but was still sculpted into my facial features. “Dear lord, when am I going to stop running away from my problems?” It had turned into my modus operandi during my high school years, a habit that I wasn't likely to get rid of, and because there was still the issue of getting back home without bumping into the almighty wooer…why stop now?

With the door opened just a fraction, just big enough to see what was going on outside, I slipped out as soon as I knew it was safe…

...and bolted.

Several hours later

"Gah!" I pulled back from the sight of Cara's painted fingernails in my face, hiding behind my arm.

"Hey, sleepy head! What took you so long?"

"What do you mean?"

Her smile grew wider with each passing second. "What do I mean? You’re not serious. It’s already twelve in the afternoon. In the time that has passed, I’ve already gotten spray tanned, got my nails done, had lunch, went to class…that’s pretty much it.”

A quick peek at the clock on the wall confirmed the time. “Jeepers, it must’ve been all the running I did last night that tired me out…,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Cara got to her knees and stood up, seemingly irked that I wasn't the happiest person I could be in the morning. What can I say? The morning is evil. “Could you at least explain one thing to me: Why did you crash on the floor instead of your bed, which is right over yonder?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

“Well, when you get an idea,” she paused to catch her breath, “Don’t tell me about it. I’m too scared to hear what the reason could be.”

I gave a feeble wave as Cara stomped out of the room, my face still finding comfort from the flower-shaped rug we had on our floor. “I had a nice time chatting to you. We should totally have those more often.” Having more time to lie on the floor and snooze was all I wanted at that point, but with the minutes ticking by, and a class scheduled in just under half an hour, there was no point in trying to not get up.

At least I had a reason to get up and be excited. For once, us musical students were excused from all the rambling of the artsy people and allowed to get in some practice time with our favorite instrument. I was someone who had absolutely no talent in sketching or painting, or even writing, making it was pretty hard to get a good grade in most of my classes. Even though most of the students were novices themselves and far away from creating a masterpiece, it was hard not to notice the curious glances in my direction and at the monstrosity I was drawing. But, I wasn't going to be discouraged. A few extra hours behind the drawing board and some time with my nose in a book studying different textures and styles for painting should hopefully improve my skills, with the emphasis on ‘hopefully’. The teachers themselves have raised eyebrows at my work, and have each tried to politely tell me that art and I just weren't compatible.

What they, the so-called "professionals", kept forgetting was that art wasn't just limited to physical creations. I was talented in a different field of art (at least I thought so), which the lecturers weren't keen on catering for. 

It was shocking to learn later on that the university had no musical room, or even an empty room that wasn't being used. Instead, Claremont University was dependent upon the local hangout spots that had all the equipment for a musician like me. In fact, I was the only person there that really wanted to make a career out of music. Sure, there was someone else, but she didn't seem very serious about it.

Anyhow, just a quick bike’s ride away was where I would be spending most of my day at. I never did get the name of the building, the manager being a foreigner with an extremely heavy accent. On the first floor it resembled your typical hangout, with a bar stocked with drinks, a pool table in the corner and a couple of dart boards that covered parts of the wall. The second floor was a whole different story, and right in the corner was where I ended up practicing.

One really bad habit of mine was that when I started playing the piano, I lost myself in the music and paid no attention to my surroundings. A guy with a knife could steal up on me and I wouldn't even hear him. It was only when a shadow fell upon the wooden keys that I stopped and realized I had company.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Raymond Carter casually leaned against the piano, and grinned as I met his gaze. “You said you majored in music, but I didn't know you were so good at it. Word around campus is that there’s a girl, with a mixture of turquoise and cyan colored hair, who is apparently failing her art class.”

I pouted. “And you think they’re talking about me? I feel insulted.”

“No, I didn't mean to-“

“Hey, don’t worry,” I dismissed his concern, quickly putting away my sheet music with practiced ease. “It’s not like I’m failing my theory papers, just…the practical, is all.”

Raymond kept his pose at the piano, stroking his beard as if he were deep in thought. “Good to know, because I actually require some input from you…”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing that you have to risk your neck for, though,” he shrugged, “Just a simple business project of mine that happens to be about some art festival thingamajig…and I have no knowledge of the target group we have to keep in mind, so I’m stumped at this point. I've done a little research into the matter, and, well, I felt like an idiot.”

“Do you have your research on you? I’d like to take a look at it ‘cause it can’t be that bad.”

He cleared his throat, picking up the briefcase from behind him and walking towards the middle of the room, expertly setting up a workstation with the notes that he had on his project. “You might want to think twice about what you just said.” 

By quickly skimming over the main headings and some of the information that he was piecing together, it was clear that Raymond’s assumption was indeed true. While it was a business project and it does require logical thinking, he didn't keep it mind that artists’ personalities differed from theirs most of the time. “Eh, how can I put this...”

“Don’t bother.” As I stood there in silence, Raymond collected his stacks of paper and started placing it back in the suitcase. “That’s why I need help from you, or someone that knows of artsy things, you know.”

My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to form the words in my mind. “Well, I mean, I can help you a little bit I guess, but the only person who can really help you is someone who’s an expert on it, like a teacher.” Just thinking about art classes gave me an idea. “Which reminds me, I got permission to bail on a lecture about some art shenanigans to practice piano, but… what if I end up going and you tag along?"

"Seriously?" he perked up at the thought of the idea. "You think they'd let me sit in?"

"Why not?" my lips were itching to form a smile, but it soon vanished. Appearing prim and proper, Raymond extended his arm like a gentleman would as he was escorting his date towards the dance floor. The comfortable and amusing atmosphere that had been created turned into a tense vibe that felt like it was suffocating me. There it was. That insane fear I had of romantic interactions, and guys in general. When I met Raymond at the orientation, I didn’t have that issue, because it was clear to me that we could be friends - just friends and nothing else. The smirk he was showcasing now told a different story, and even though it was probably just another joke or some way to be friendly, it still had that ability to make my heart beat a little faster.

But what was the point of being afraid when there was nothing to fear?

Fear was a choice right?

And I was going to have to face my fears sometime or another.

With my nose in the air, I valiantly accepted his arm and he escorted me down the stairs and towards his car, while the entire time, my heart was trying to climb its way out of my throat.

Although I imagined our arrival at the lecture hall to be a little less theatrical and our entrance into the building unnoticed, our lecturer had a different idea in mind as I tip-toed into the room with Raymond hot on my heels. “How nice of you to join us, Miss Duff; I had heard that you had permission to be absent today, and I wonder what the dean would think if he knew you were sneaking around with this pleasant looking gentleman.”

“Good day, Misses Huckleberry,” I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to walk towards her and give her a well-deserved slap through the face. “I was busy with piano practice, but my friend here-“

“Raymond Carter,” he quickly interjected.

“-needs some help with his business project. It’s all about art festivals, and I thought that you of all people must be an expert on the topic.”

The subtle hint at flattery seemed to have the desired effect. Her gaze shifted to Raymond, and she motioned that we take a seat. “Well, I would be honored to help a Business student such as you. First of all, you need to understand that there is a big personality difference between artistic people, and someone like you, no offense intended…”

What followed was one of the worst hours of my entire life.

Raymond seemed to be soaking up every bit of information – it was his project, after all – even though he didn’t have a notebook in front of him. I, on the other hand, had a pencil and paper in front of me, and as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t pay attention to what Misses Huckleberry was rambling on about.

“That was quite an insightful lesson,” the blue-haired male whispered as the class came to an end.

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

After a day of heart throbbing, being yelled at by my least favorite lecturer and running around campus hoping I wouldn't be late for another class, my body was aching for a nice bubble bath. Sadly, there weren't any such luxuries around this dormitory. All we had were standardized bathrooms meant for both boys and girls. Not to mention the fact that if there had been a humongous tub, there would always be an argument in progress about whose turn it was. Maybe it would have been better to rent a nice apartment, but that was way more than what my budget allowed.

Around 6 PM, I finally got back to my dormitory, only to see candles and flowers cluttered around the door. That only meant one thing: Some guy was trying to impress a girl, they’d have dinner, put on some music, and the rest of the dorm would probably never hear the end of the gossip that would surround this spectacle. 

Beneath one tree a group of rebels were hanging out and catching a smoke break, taking advantage of the fact that the supervisor was already out like a light in his room by this time. "Hey, chick over there," a guy pointed at me with his cigarette and spoke in a disinterested tone. "You don't wanna go in there. So many flowers in there the stench could make you puke."

The only stench that's gonna make me puke is the smell of the smoke..., I thought to myself, but nodded in response. "Eh, thanks for the warning, I guess."

My tone had been less than grateful towards the one that had warned me, but as soon as I walked through the front door, I knew I’d been wrong. If I hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught on the senses, I’d probably have ran out the door again and never come back.

It was just that bad.

However, it went from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’ as I noticed the mess made in the dorm’s version of a dining room, where the tables were littered with flower vases, all stuffed with pink roses.

And the worst part of it all: Seeing the one who was responsible for all of it.

Lounged against the back wall of the room was the man I had met not-entirely-face-to-face only the previous night. 'The Wooer', 'The Ladies man', 'The guy I ran away from' - whatever name people knew him by, there he was, in my dorm, winking at me from across the room.

He pulled a crooked smile and jerked his chin towards the clock. "You're right on time, Miss Duff.”

Sooner or later, that horrible sensation of fear would take control of me, and I’d stand there gawking at him as if he were a god. That was one ego boost he definitely didn’t need. As long as I had control of my tongue and most of my vocabulary, I’d make the best of it.

Eyes narrowing, I opened my mouth to speak. “You did all this for me?”

Devin kept on smiling. “Of course! After the way you blew me off at the swimming pool, I’d thought I’d do something big to get your attention, so I asked around about who you are and what you liked… And that’s how all of this happened.”

“That’s great and all,” I hesitated, and then pointed at the flowers, “but I don’t like pink roses at all. And if that’s macaroni and cheese you got over there, I don’t like that much either.” The bravado was slowly draining from his face, and he one bowl behind his back - as if that would make a difference.

 “Come on, throw me a bone here.” With slumped shoulders, Devin pulled out a chair from the table. “Just do me this one favor of having dinner with me, pretty please? I already paid for all of it.”

"Why? It's not like I owe you anything? I don’t even know, except for all of the gossip on the campus that describes you…”

The sly smile was creeping back into his features. “You blew me off, for one. I was being extremely courteous, and, for the lack of a better description, you just ran away without an explanation. So if you’re not gonna explain yourself, you might as well suffer through an hour of sharing my company.”

While thinking of a reasonable response, I heard students chattering behind me, probably curious enough to peek into the room and see what Devin Jameson was up to now and who the next victim of his sweet-talking would be. I was forced to choose between only two options: Sit down and have dinner with the most notorious player on campus, or explain the whole situation to those nosy students.

Option one seemed to be better than the alternative.

Sighing, I took a seat at the table and stared at the bowl of food in front of me which didn’t exactly seem appetizing. “You win,” I admitted reluctantly. 

"Thank you," he heaved a sigh of relief. "It's not every day I have to grovel at someone's feet to have them agree to have dinner with me. You're probably the first girl that I've met that's like that, making it tons of fun to chase after you…”

Everything would have been perfect if he hadn’t said that. I nudged the bowl away from me, looking him squarely in the eyes. By now, fear should have made me unable to even engage in a normal conversation, much less scold a guy for being a jerk.

But it didn’t. It was impossible that I could have conquered my biggest flaw in the span of one day. Perhaps I was only given the chance of righting this wrong before the fear came back to suffocate me.

“Listen, all of this was really nice of you, Devin, and I appreciate it…but I’m not going to be some ‘conquest’ of yours. I’m not some cheap slut who falls for the first guy that gives her some form of affection. So let me just put this bluntly: There’s no way you’re getting in my pants, okay?”  

For a split second, his eyes widened, but he recovered quickly. “What made you think I’d do something like that?”

“Dude,” I couldn’t believe this innocent façade he had created for himself, “I don’t know what world you live in, but you’re not exactly a poster child for respectable men out there. You’re a liar and a cheater and you’re notorious for going around and having one-night-stands with most of the girls on campus.”

He abandoned his own plate of mac and cheese, looking everywhere in the room except at me. Through the years, I’ve tried to read people like a book by looking at their faces, but like King Duncan said in Macbeth, “There is no art to find the mind's construction in the face.” It wasn’t an exact science: People were unpredictable, and often good at hiding their intentions. Devin was even more deceptive than your average guy.

“It’s true, everything you said is true…,” he nodded slowly, “But what if it wasn’t? What if we just got to know each other, with no existing prejudices in play? Like this is a blind date of some kind?”

There was no air of deception around him as he spoke, his eyes feeling as if they were looking right into my soul. The sight gave me a light case of the goose bumps and some butterflies in the stomach, but I had to control myself. It could have been just another angle he was working. “Okay, I’ll play.”

“Great,” he paused to take a breath. “So…what did you say your name was, miss?”

“Kristine, but everyone calls be ‘Krissy’, and, to be honest, I like it a lot more than my real name. It’s sounds so old-fashioned almost.”

He chuckled, eyeing the candle that stood in the middle of the table. “I think it’s a lovely name. I don’t exactly have an interesting name or back story even, like, being raised in the backstreets of some city. I’m Devin, and I’m here at university because of a sports scholarship I got back in high school. What about you?”

“Me? Not much to tell. I’m majoring in Fine Arts because my best friend dragged me all the way with her to come and party. I don’t exactly have the perfect history…,” I paused, realizing I was about to reveal my entire past to a guy that I barely knew. It would be best to keep it plain and simple, like he did.  “I’m from Appaloosa Plains, the most boring place on earth. My parents are very protective of me, you know. I was like a little chick being nurtured by its mother its entire life. So yeah, I should probably thank my friend huh?”

“Probably,” he agreed, and we both laughed a little. “See? I’m not the bad company you were expecting, right?”

I had to agree with him on that. “Surprisingly no. It kind of makes me wonder if the rumors were over-exaggerated…

But then again, he admitted it was true, the thought passed my mind.

The ‘blind date’ came to an end, and Devin kissed me goodnight on the cheek and asked if he could see me again. What was the harm in going out with him one more time? We enjoyed each other’s company, and I already stated that there was no way in hell we were going to hook up anytime soon. Did he expect that, given enough time, I’d budge and give in?

Well, I wasn’t going to give him that kind of power over me.

“No, sorry,” I wiggled my index finger at him. “I’m not gonna make this easy for you.”

He grumbled as he walked past me and out the door, leaving me to laugh at his antics. This wasn’t some kind of puppy-love I was suffering from. I didn’t feel any sort of real attraction towards him, nor did I see myself in a relationship anytime soon. But it did present the perfect opportunity for me to work on getting over my fears.  So, if I thought about this logically, none of us could complain. He was happy thinking that he was going to have a girl to woo, while I had someone to talk to and challenge my social anxiety problems.

It was a win-win situation, no matter how you looked at it...

...As long as I didn't fall for his charms, that is.

~♥~
*eh hem* Hi, and thank you for reading this latest chapter. I'm really sorry for the lack of chapters as of late, but I truly have been stuck behind my text books and studying for exams the entire time. Luckily, my exams end next week and Tuesday, so I'm hoping to be able to fit in some writing time, as I already have all the pictures for this generation up and till chapter 8.

Just a side note to anyone who has seen the character bios (that are still WIP), I made a slight change there. The character, Shaun Steen, used to be this tanned guy with orange hair, but I made another male sim later on that I fell in love with, and he is now the new Shaun Steen. I'll update the bios later on with his picture.

I also promise this generation will become more interesting as time passes. I just need to build the foundation before I break it down (yeah, sadly, that's what I'm doing).