The Black & White Confessions (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bwconfessions) wrote,@ 2006-07-31 19:19:00 |
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G A M E S
Most nights he stays in his room to study. On the rare occasion, when he goes out, it is to purchase groceries or other ordinary snack food that can keep him company as he clacks his fingers over the keys and into the night. He writes her letters and emails, but never sends them. He picks up the phone and puts it down. This is his routine and daily ritual. He thinks of her often.
She likes to party. Finally apart from her ‘perfect’ childhood, she feels that she is finally free. She’ll try anything once and everything twice. In the few times that she relaxes in her room, usually during Intro to Philosophy, she examines the few pictures she has taped to the wall. She doesn’t think of him often, but when she does, she smiles.
Many of the campus study-fiends get together on weekends to unwind, and his first party is a quiet one. He sits uncomfortably between a foreign exchange student and a grad student with pigtails and glasses as they eat chips and play Monopoly. He rolls a six and goes directly to jail. The grad student winks at him and slips a blue fifty under the table.
The music throbs like a headache, but one that she enjoys. Back pressed against the wall, she surveys the other freshmen as they laugh and drink. Her right hand grips a beer and her left hand hangs loose at her side. She winks at a biology major with oriental features as he goes for another drink. The Asian flashes her a smile.
The nerds listen to jazz music over today’s episode of Jeopardy. Those that aren’t engrossed in Monopoly (and those that are) shout out their knowledge in the form of a question. He sips a soda and collects the rent. The grad student nudges him in the side and promises immunity on her property if he’ll come to a party at her place next weekend. He takes another sip as he considers.
She sits shoulder to shoulder on a couch next to the biology major. They chat about classes, but their idle small talk doesn’t last long. She leans her head on his shoulder. He grins goofily at her, his hand is resting on her knee.
The grad student wins Monopoly, and though he suspects she cheated, he says nothing. As the others move to the kitchen for carrot sticks, he remains with her on the couch to discuss politics. Her pigtails bounce back and forth as she nods her head.
A football game plays on the television, while drunken freshmen cheer around her and the biology major. When he smiles really wide, his eyes squint so much she can barely see his pupils. She teases him and musses his hair.
He walks the grad student to her car; it is the courteous thing to do. Under a streetlight she smiles at him shyly, and tells him that if he ever needs help with calculus (she’s a pro) to call her. She writes her phone number on the palm of his hand with a blue, ball-point pen.
The party fizzles out, and she and the biology major help to clean up a little. Outside over a shared cigarette, he offers to walk her back to her dorm. She drops the cancer stick on the ground and scratches out its glowing amber ashes with the heel of her shoe. She politely declines, but not before she explores his chapped lips with her own soft ones.
The grad student hugs him, her warm cheek pressed against his. Her hair smells like lavender, and he feels homesick. As they pull back from each other, the grad student winks, bringing her mouth close to his. It happens in slow motion. He uses the time to turn his lips away.
Most nights he stays in his room to study. On the rare occasion, when he goes out, it is to purchase groceries or other ordinary snack food that can keep him company as he clacks his fingers over the keys and into the night. He writes her letters and emails, but never sends them. He picks up the phone and puts it down. This is his routine and daily ritual. He thinks of her often.
She likes to party. Finally apart from her ‘perfect’ childhood, she feels that she is finally free. She’ll try anything once and everything twice. In the few times that she relaxes in her room, usually during Intro to Philosophy, she examines the few pictures she has taped to the wall. She doesn’t think of him often, but when she does, she smiles.
Many of the campus study-fiends get together on weekends to unwind, and his first party is a quiet one. He sits uncomfortably between a foreign exchange student and a grad student with pigtails and glasses as they eat chips and play Monopoly. He rolls a six and goes directly to jail. The grad student winks at him and slips a blue fifty under the table.
The music throbs like a headache, but one that she enjoys. Back pressed against the wall, she surveys the other freshmen as they laugh and drink. Her right hand grips a beer and her left hand hangs loose at her side. She winks at a biology major with oriental features as he goes for another drink. The Asian flashes her a smile.
The nerds listen to jazz music over today’s episode of Jeopardy. Those that aren’t engrossed in Monopoly (and those that are) shout out their knowledge in the form of a question. He sips a soda and collects the rent. The grad student nudges him in the side and promises immunity on her property if he’ll come to a party at her place next weekend. He takes another sip as he considers.
She sits shoulder to shoulder on a couch next to the biology major. They chat about classes, but their idle small talk doesn’t last long. She leans her head on his shoulder. He grins goofily at her, his hand is resting on her knee.
The grad student wins Monopoly, and though he suspects she cheated, he says nothing. As the others move to the kitchen for carrot sticks, he remains with her on the couch to discuss politics. Her pigtails bounce back and forth as she nods her head.
A football game plays on the television, while drunken freshmen cheer around her and the biology major. When he smiles really wide, his eyes squint so much she can barely see his pupils. She teases him and musses his hair.
He walks the grad student to her car; it is the courteous thing to do. Under a streetlight she smiles at him shyly, and tells him that if he ever needs help with calculus (she’s a pro) to call her. She writes her phone number on the palm of his hand with a blue, ball-point pen.
The party fizzles out, and she and the biology major help to clean up a little. Outside over a shared cigarette, he offers to walk her back to her dorm. She drops the cancer stick on the ground and scratches out its glowing amber ashes with the heel of her shoe. She politely declines, but not before she explores his chapped lips with her own soft ones.
The grad student hugs him, her warm cheek pressed against his. Her hair smells like lavender, and he feels homesick. As they pull back from each other, the grad student winks, bringing her mouth close to his. It happens in slow motion. He uses the time to turn his lips away.
