little dark age || Stu Macher x OC || Billy Loomis x OC

Prologue

a/n Let it be known when the pov switches the character name will be above it to show the switch has happened, if that makes sense??
Enjoy!!

August 29st 1998
-Jamie-

The music wasn't just playing around Jamie it was penetrating her skin. She was sweaty and hot but, this was what college was all about. There was strobe and black light, the frat house was smokey and filled with awful cologne and fruit punch smell. She didn't want the semester to start, she would need at least two more weeks to recover from how much partying she had already done.

Liv pushed through the crowd, squeezing between sweaty bodies with a grimace on her face. Her dark brown hair braided back, but a few pieces fell around her sharp jaw. "Jamie!" She got past the last drunk sorority girl and stood in front of the dancing blondie. "Jamie!"

"Paul says there's someone on the phone for you," Liv yells. "Said it sounded like an older dude. Could be your stepdad?"

Jamie's eyes widened and her drunken mind prayed for her sober self to awaken, "Fuck!" Greg would kill her if he could hear her drunk. How did he even know to call her there? "Where's the phone?"

"Kitchen." Liv pointed behind her, as Paul walked up behind her. He was tall, pale, and ginger. His smile made Jamie's stomach turn. She hated that Liv was wrapped around his rich boy pinky. If she was stronger, maybe a bit crazier she'd kill him.

"Babe, let's go upstairs." He said into her ear. She flinched at his loud tone and a grimace fell on her lips. He nudged her forward.

"Not now, Paul." She said.

"I'll be back," Jamie said to Liv and she stepped closer to Paul. "Respect her, douche-nozzle." She pointed a finger at him and shoved her shoulder into him.

"What the fuck did she just say to me?" He asked.

"Calm down," Liv watched as Jamie walked away. "She's just drunk."

"I invited her freshman sorry ass." Paul puffed out his chest. "She should be nicer if she knows what's good for her."

Jamie rolled her eyes as the music drowned out Paul's words. Liv attracted dickwads like moths to a flame. It wasn't like Jamie's track record was better. She stumbled into the kitchen, the lights were on in there. She felt her eyes water as she passed a big cloud of pot smoke. The phone was on the counter, she picked it up.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Finally." The voice. The same voice — "I was worried would've been too busy to come to talk to me." Was it really him?

"Who is this?" She glanced out of the window, she didn't feel so drunk anymore. Her instincts kicked in, instincts that had been dormant for almost two whole years.

"You're too smart to ask a question like that." She had a choice, hang up and walk away or play this stupid game. It had to be a prank, people knew about it. They knew she was one of the few that lived. The journalist with a silver tongue and a New York Times bestseller made sure of that.

"I'm not doing this shit, go prank someone else, douchenozzle." Jamie hung up the phone and set it on the counter. She brushed her hair out of her face and took in a deep breath. Turning to leave, she was confident in her choice. She wouldn't go back there, she couldn't go back to that space. The phone started ringing. Her heart sank, the road diverged into two paths. Jamie could see the paths clearly, one dark and filled with potholes the other clear sunny, and lined with flowers. She should turn to the sun but, when the night calls her, she had to answer. Her hands grabbed the phone and she pressed to answer.