Swish

Timeout - Eli

"Man, you gotta get out of this funk. You've been like this the whole week, what's up with you?"

I rolled my eyes at Patrick and continued blasting my music through my speaker, head buried under my pillow while I contemplated what I was going to do with the fact that Virginia refused to speak to me, and what that meant for my relationship with her father. 

"Hello?  Bro, come on.  Get your ass up, we're going to my party tonight.  I still don't know why you didn't join the frat and come live at the house this semester like last year.  These dorms fucking suck," Patrick tried again, kicking a stray coke can that my roommate had left strewn on the floor. 

"I really hate that frat house, man.  You know that.  Leave me alone, I have shit I need to do."

"What, like mope around your room while listening to sad girl music?  No, I'm not letting you.  Get.  Up."

Two hours later and I had unfortunately done as Patrick had wanted me to do, and we were firmly in the middle of a ridiculously hard game of beer pong while I watched him throw back shot after shot in the hot, sweaty, and mildly disgusting frat house filled to the brim with people I'd never even seen before, some of them incoming freshman and new pledges. 

"See?  I told you this would be fun!" Patrick said as he threw back the rest of his Corona Lime, words slurring and eyes red from the recreational smoking he'd taken part of in as soon as we'd arrived. 

Me?  I just felt...out of place.  This had used to be my scene the entire freshman year, and while I was considered a 'player' with girls, partying had just gotten...old. 

So, no, I hadn't partaken in smoking, only sipping on a beer until it turned warm and soured in my mouth.  

And then, it was as if the seas parted and the sun shone on the inside of the frat house, in the middle of the night.  The music hushed, conversations slowed to a snail's pace, and no one moved, at least, in my head. 

Slow motion, her legs stepped to the beat of the pulsing music and I couldn't tear my eyes from her legs wrapped in tight jeans, contouring the material to her skin and her her hair brushing the waistband of said jeans, the dark, silky smooth strands swaying as she stepped inside. 

"Hey, hold my beer," I told Patrick, not bothering to stop to discern if he was actually going to listen to me or not. 

The throng of partiers parted for me as I tore my way through the thick crowd, eyes wide as I passed, probably considering my height, or maybe it was the fierce look on my face?  I didn't care, I just wanted to see her, talk to her, figure out what the hell I had done that was so wrong for her to ghost me like that. 

It wasn't like we were dating, far from it, but I knew that I hadn't made up those moments that we'd shared.  Out in the rain, or later on the court when she'd leaned in, gorgeous eyes closing automatically as I grew closer and closer and-

Wait, did that motherfucker just-

Yes.  Yes he did.  That piece of shit asshole with a painted green face Shrek looking motherfucker just grabbed a handful of V's boobs, and he took his time while doing it, too. 

He'd been trying to place a green for go sticker on her chest, and her friend's chests as well.  

I heard her snap at him, but the asshole didn't care.  He called her Pocahontas.  What.  The.  Fuck. 

While she did share a resemblance with the animated version of her, no way would I ever point that out to her face, only thought it in my head.  She probably had that all her life, there was no way I'd ever point it out.