He grins at me, his expression spreading from ear to ear. "You know? You are... you're just so... I can't believe..." He shakes his head slightly, creasing his blonde eyebrows, as if he cannot find the right words to express his thought.

I give him a small smile. "I'm just doing my job, sir. To the best of my ability, just like you said. I learned from the best." I almost curse myself for adding that last part, but he only smiles harder.

So Zeus has a soft side. Note to self.

(edited xx)

****

Becky nods her approval of my new choice of clothing. I sense a hint of pride in herself as she examines me again, placing her hands on her thin hips in triumph.

"See? You look way better this way," She admires with a smile. Her words hit home, stinging in my chest, before I realize her statement was supposed to be a compliment.

I refused to wear one of her revealingly short dresses. Instead I chose some of her shortest pants (way too tight for my taste) and a simple black button-down, but I refused to let my hair down from its ponytail. "Do you want to use some of my makeup?" I deny her politely, I've never been one to use the stuff. My skin is an even caramel color, so I never really needed to use makeup anyway.

"Are you sure?" She seems extremely uncertain, chewing on her dark red lips. I guess she incapable of fathoming a life without excessive mascara and eyeliner. "Let's just get this over with," I groan as quietly as possible, leading her out of our stuffy dorm room.

****

My confidence begins to slip away like sand through my fingers, as I stare back into the cruel and harsh faces of the lowlifes I unfortunately came into contact with yesterday. I instantly regret my return.

Michael frowns with irritation. "Becky! I specifically told you not to bring... her... back here." He groans, crossing his arms like a child scorned. Becky shrugs nonchalantly, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "Nobody cares, Michael. Why don't you move over, Jay?" She changes the subject, winking at me before arching an eyebrow at Jay. I look away awkwardly, but she pushes me toward the couch regardless.

I fold my hands neatly, and Becky sits beside me, carrying on loud conversations with everyone beside the fire. Jay gazes over at me, smiling warmly. "Nice outfit." "Don't tease me," I whisper, avoiding his caramel irises. I've had enough of that anyways, people never just say what they mean around here. Everyone except for Michael, who is brutally honest. "I'm not teasing you, I actually like it." I don't believe him, but give a small smile anyway. "Thanks."

"Anyone wanna play a game?" Nat sings, and everyone groans in response. "It's getting old, we just did this." "Princess here never did her dare," Nat responds quickly, with wide and mocking eyes. I swallow, looking at the bottle of vodka next to her on the porch. Not this again... don't these people have lives? "I'll do it." I give in, and Jay glances at me skeptically. "Think you can handle it?"

Alcohol is clinically proven to shut down entire organ systems within the body, and critically impair a human's ability to perceive their surroundings and function normally. I attempt to mute this thought, surveying the faces of everyone in the circle. "Just a shot." It's just one. One drink doesn't do too much harm... Ignoring my morals, I tip the bottle back, pouring the cold liquid directly onto my tongue.

I barely manage to swallow the burning cold mouthful, and attempt to keep a straight face. The vodka burns as it slides down my throat, still tingling as it settles in my stomach. Jay nods enthusiastically, laughing and snatching the bottle. "Wow, I'm almost proud."

Nat shrugs with contempt. "It was only one shot." Becky squeezes my shoulder with pride. "Good job." Michael gives me a strange look, and a frown. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was disappointed in me, but that would imply that he cares.

I'm silent as everyone continues their conversations, and the vodka bottle moves in a smooth circuit around the rowdy group. It eventually circles right back around to me, and I stare with disgust at the seemingly harmless clear liquid. "Come on, Princess! Are you scared?" I shake my head quickly, give her a quick and polite smile, before tipping the bottle back, and drinking with gusto.

Around and around the bottle passes, and the more vodka I ingest, the better I feel. Actually... I don't feel at all. Jay slips his arm around my waist, and usually I wouldn't be comfortable with this, but I am positive that he doesn't mean anything by it.

Eventually, Michael stalks away, irritated for an unknown reason. He storms toward the house, probably completely sober given the fact that he's passed on the vodka bottle every time it came his way. "I'll be back." I tell Jay, and stand. The effects of the vodka hit me like a brick wall, the porch seeming to spin beneath my feet. The black sky tells me that it's night time now, and I should've been back at the dorms hours ago.

Jay gives me another one of his warm smiles. "Try not to die," He laughs, and I giggle too. I have no knowledge of my intentions as I stumble toward the house, my thoughts seem dull at the edges and fuzzy. It takes an hour to burn off every drink, so I don't think I'll return to normal any time soon.

I manage to pull open the sliding glass doors, not bothering to stumble all the way to the front of the house. I crawl like a rabid animal on my hands and knees up the staircase, and impulsively, for no apparent reason, head straight to Michael's bedroom.

It's empty, lucky for me. Tripping over my own feet, I practically fall onto the bookcase, almost knocking the thick binders to the floor. "Whoops," I giggle to myself, and pick up the binder I knocked on the floor with a burp.

I believe it's the polio one, so I attempt to open it up, and continue reading. I struggle to grip the casing, before I finally pry the thing open. Even in my drunken state, I marvel at the treasures inside.

Careful lamination preserves the carefully laid snippets of old news articles, with their black-and-white pictures, old-style text and ink smudges. This article, about Franklin D. Roosevelt suffering polio, originates from the 1930's 40's, and piques my interest. I try desperately to focus on the small letters and read, but my eyes are too far gone.

"What about 'nobody is allowed in my room' don't you understand?" Michael spits venom, but he can't seem to force as much irritation into his voice this time around. His hands tucked into his right pockets, he studies me through narrowed eyes. I stifle a burp on the back of my hand, clutching the binder. "The polio outbreak of the early twentieth century?" I slur, my eyes drifting down to the binder in my hands.

"I know, it was very interesting." He walks over swiftly, snatching the binder and tucking it back into its special spot. I cannot tell if he's being sarcastic or not. "Are these yours?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me once again. I expect him to shut me down immediately, tell me to stop asking stupid questions, but instead he nods. "Yeah, what does it look like?" There's still an edge of hostility in his voice, I hope it is melting away.

"How did you collect all of these?" I inquire, and he frowns. "Do you always ask people so many damn questions?" I sigh, undeterred by his behavior, and face the binders. These can't possibly all be his, they look like they've been handled with such... grace, and care. Two words I couldn't dream of using to describe Michael.

I study them extensively in the silence that follows, and glance over to see him watching me carefully. His face is unreadable, but his lack of rude comments eases me.

It is now that the full extent of his beauty registers in my mind, and even though he strongly detests me, I can't deny that's he's extremely easy on the eyes. He's tall, and sort of slender with a glowing skin tone and beautiful bone structure. If he wasn't such an ass, he would be... attractive to me. And he's not being exactly an ass right now... I am ashamed of myself for these thoughts.

Heat collects in my cheeks as I ponder him. The idea of tasting his lips pops into my mind. My eyes widen with embarrassed surprise, as if he could possibly hear my thoughts.

"What?" He demands, and I jump out of my thoughts, facing him. "Nothing, I just..."

In a flurry of vodka-fueled bravery, I shift onto my toes, and press my mouth to his. He stumbles back a half step, completely caught off guard by my suddenly bold movement. Unlike all of the other people here, I haven't seen him even look twice at a girl, much less kiss her. My subconscious fears for me, he'll push me away in two seconds.

Instead of my fears being realized, and to my great surprise, he leans closer to me, cupping my face in his two hands. An icy cool fire begins to dance across my skin, from where our mouths move in sync rather quickly, spreading all the way down to my toes. The side of me that hungered for his affection takes over, and... I love every second of it.

His hands slide slowly downward from my cheeks, halting on my hips as I bind my arms around his neck to steady myself. I can't believe this is happening, and it feels so good. Not right necesarily, but good. His mouth feels perfect on mine, his lips soft and full, and tasting slightly of something warm and sweet, like cinnamon. It's hard to believe someone like Michael could put so much feeling (not something he shows regularly) into a simple gesture.

He pulls away gently, wetting his lips, and I notice how my breathing has picked up, my heart beating erratically against my rib cage. "Skip," He breathes, before returning for round two. My body seems to respond to him, my knees buckling with passion. My feet begin to hurt from the extreme discomfort of trying to reach his mouth, but the pain is worth it.

His mouth is slightly open this time. The tip of his tongue grazes my bottom lip, before snaking into my mouth without pausing. The kiss reaches deep inside of me now, melting away the resentment I held toward Michael.

To my dismay, common sense seems to be returning to me, reminding me of what an asshole he really is. He probably does this all the time, takes advantage of girls out of nowhere. He was somewhat civil to me for a few minutes, and this is how I respond?

I tear my mouth away quickly. "Stop, Stop!" I stumble backwards, the backs of my thighs hitting the foot of the bed. He looks confused, maybe even disappointed at first, before his usual air of anger and irritation makes a reappearance. He massages his temples, facing away from me. "Damn it, Princess." I want to tell him not to call me that, but even now I know it's not the best idea.

"Sorry," I breathe. But... sorry for kissing him, or sorry for stopping? "What? We kissed, so what? You feel special now?" He snaps quickly. Again, his words hurt my feelings and I don't know why. I don't feel anything for him, I was just in the moment...

It dawns on me that I just wasted my first kiss on Michael. A heartless and unfeeling Jackass that hates me. Again, I want to cry, tears brimming in my eyes. Why does he make me so emotional? I wish I'd never even tasted the vodka, and I wanna go home.

"You can stay here if you want, but there's no way you're getting back to campus tonight." He growls before leaving the room, and slamming the door behind him. I ignore the bed, curling up in a ball on my side across the carpet. I can feel drowsiness pulling at me already as I curse myself inside my head.

Idiot, I'm such an idiot. Michael knows it too.

****

I groan, rolling over on the warm carpet. My back is so stiff. Soon, splitting pain throbbing behind my eyes forces me to open them, and examine my surroundings.

I sit up straight as a board, suddenly frantic. It's Monday morning!? Grey light pours in from the sliding glass doors, casting down on me in my disheveled clothing. Hangover symptoms plague me as I hold my head in my hands. What am I gonna do now? I turn to the clock on the nightstand, which reads 8:43, and class starts at 9:15. I am screwed.

I scramble to my feet, still slightly dizzy from my amazingly stupid actions last night. I've gotta find someone who can drive, and get me out of this terrible place. I can smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of me as I slide down the stairs and outside, and it's not until I see Michael that I remember my other stupid action last night. I disgust myself.

He kneels to pick up the red cups and trash off of the yard, turning up his nose as he discards them into a trash bag in his other hand.

I don't ever want to talk to him, nor see him again, especially after last night, but unfortunately...

He's my only way out of this mess.

It hurts my heart to make Michael such a douche 😂 oh well

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