Stop...It's Ronson Time (Part 3)
Title: Stop..It's Ronson Time (Part 3)
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 519
Summary: Lindsay brings her boyfriend to Samantha's birthday party. They say you should dance with the one who brought you, but the birthday girl is so much more appealing.
Rating: Adult (for some language)
Disclaimer: This is not real.
The partiers continue talking and ignore the exit, aware of the recurring drama inspired by the young starlet. Samantha tries to do the same, but knows the rest of her night will be shit if she doesn’t chase the girl.
She excuses herself from the loudly conversational group. As she walks away, she hears whispers of speculation, and her own thoughts telling her to go back and sit down. That girl is trouble, they warn her. But trouble knows the way to my heart, she argues back, and sprints toward the exit.
Outside, she looks frantically from side to side, trying to reason where Lindsay might have gone. She clenches her fists in frustration, and grabs her cigarette as it falls from its place behind her ear. Stuffing her hand into each of her many pockets, she realizes her lighter is in her coat pocket inside the club. She swears loudly, now regretting her impulsive actions.
“Need a light?” says a tragic voice from the building’s shadows. Samantha nods, turning to see Lindsay’s tear-filled and swollen eyes, mascara stripes down her cheeks. A droplet lingers on the strawberry blonde girl’s chin, and Samantha reaches out to wipe it away but Lindsay flinches, releasing a sharp gasp. She calmly hands the waiting DJ her lighter, pulling back quickly to avoid more than necessary physical contact.
“Why’d you take off like that?” Samantha mumbles while lighting the stick of tobacco hanging from her lips. She stares Lindsay meaningfully in the eye, trying to hold back her own tears.
“Too noisy,” Lindsay says, sniffling and wiping wetness from her cheeks. She looks down, flicking bright red embers from her own cigarette.
“Bullshit. You’re crying. Where’s Calum?” Samantha says, throwing her hands in the air. Lindsay shrugs innocently, sucking on her cigarette before blowing wisps of smoke from the side of her open mouth. “What happened?”
“I just don’t like seeing you with other…”
“People?” Samantha laughs. “It’s a party, Linds - it tends to involve lots of people.”
“Girls, Samantha. Other girls...” Lindsay says, puffing incessantly away, avoiding eye contact.
“What? Other girls? What does this have to do with anything?” Samantha says, beyond confused. She places herself directly in front of Lindsay, purposely confrontational.
Practically pouncing, Lindsay draws Samantha’s face closer and kisses her, their faces connecting with great force. Samantha feels her head swimming, slightly drunk but mostly intoxicated by passion and the taste of waxy lipstick on her tongue.
They’ve kissed before but never like this. It was usually in a bathroom stall or a quiet hotel room after Lindsay had had too much to drink. She would enjoy it for a moment until guilt overwhelmed her. When they’d stop, Lindsay would be angry, and accuse Samantha of taking advantage of her fragile state. “God damn lesbian” were often Lindsay’s exiting words.
This time it’s different. The way Lindsay’s eyes remain open, searching, looking lost and vulnerable. The way her hands clutch onto Samantha’s, afraid to let go. But mostly, the way her heart is beating so powerful and loud that revving engines and noisy streetcars are silent in comparison.
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 519
Summary: Lindsay brings her boyfriend to Samantha's birthday party. They say you should dance with the one who brought you, but the birthday girl is so much more appealing.
Rating: Adult (for some language)
Disclaimer: This is not real.
The partiers continue talking and ignore the exit, aware of the recurring drama inspired by the young starlet. Samantha tries to do the same, but knows the rest of her night will be shit if she doesn’t chase the girl.
She excuses herself from the loudly conversational group. As she walks away, she hears whispers of speculation, and her own thoughts telling her to go back and sit down. That girl is trouble, they warn her. But trouble knows the way to my heart, she argues back, and sprints toward the exit.
Outside, she looks frantically from side to side, trying to reason where Lindsay might have gone. She clenches her fists in frustration, and grabs her cigarette as it falls from its place behind her ear. Stuffing her hand into each of her many pockets, she realizes her lighter is in her coat pocket inside the club. She swears loudly, now regretting her impulsive actions.
“Need a light?” says a tragic voice from the building’s shadows. Samantha nods, turning to see Lindsay’s tear-filled and swollen eyes, mascara stripes down her cheeks. A droplet lingers on the strawberry blonde girl’s chin, and Samantha reaches out to wipe it away but Lindsay flinches, releasing a sharp gasp. She calmly hands the waiting DJ her lighter, pulling back quickly to avoid more than necessary physical contact.
“Why’d you take off like that?” Samantha mumbles while lighting the stick of tobacco hanging from her lips. She stares Lindsay meaningfully in the eye, trying to hold back her own tears.
“Too noisy,” Lindsay says, sniffling and wiping wetness from her cheeks. She looks down, flicking bright red embers from her own cigarette.
“Bullshit. You’re crying. Where’s Calum?” Samantha says, throwing her hands in the air. Lindsay shrugs innocently, sucking on her cigarette before blowing wisps of smoke from the side of her open mouth. “What happened?”
“I just don’t like seeing you with other…”
“People?” Samantha laughs. “It’s a party, Linds - it tends to involve lots of people.”
“Girls, Samantha. Other girls...” Lindsay says, puffing incessantly away, avoiding eye contact.
“What? Other girls? What does this have to do with anything?” Samantha says, beyond confused. She places herself directly in front of Lindsay, purposely confrontational.
Practically pouncing, Lindsay draws Samantha’s face closer and kisses her, their faces connecting with great force. Samantha feels her head swimming, slightly drunk but mostly intoxicated by passion and the taste of waxy lipstick on her tongue.
They’ve kissed before but never like this. It was usually in a bathroom stall or a quiet hotel room after Lindsay had had too much to drink. She would enjoy it for a moment until guilt overwhelmed her. When they’d stop, Lindsay would be angry, and accuse Samantha of taking advantage of her fragile state. “God damn lesbian” were often Lindsay’s exiting words.
This time it’s different. The way Lindsay’s eyes remain open, searching, looking lost and vulnerable. The way her hands clutch onto Samantha’s, afraid to let go. But mostly, the way her heart is beating so powerful and loud that revving engines and noisy streetcars are silent in comparison.