And I'm still crazy when I see your face.

Ok, so my exams are FINALLY over and summer break has officially begun. I started going through old stories, but catching up is going to be a slow process, because I have like, twenty stories to read. Yes, I know it is my own fault for letting them pile up, but all I’m asking for is a little patience. I am also going to apologize to everyone whose stories I haven’t read or don’t usually comment on and promise to be better at it. It does happen that I read stories and don’t have time to comment on them/forget to like them and then even I don’t know what I did read and what I didn’t, so now I have to go through all of them again and check to see what I overlooked in the past.
 
Also, I am probably more behind than anyone else in the world (like a year behind), which is embarrassing for me, as a writer for this group, and which means that I’m going to have to do a summary to account for a pretty big chunk of time and then start writing stories starting from a decent point in time (a.k.a it should at least be in this lifetime, and not her previous reincarnations from years ago). Therefore, this is going to include that summary and my first real story for Lexi is coming up next in a different set. I apologize again for my lack of consistent activity, because I know it irritates Alex, as a creator of this group, and I know it irritates everyone else who isn’t getting the readership and positive feedback they deserve. Since I have more free time now, I’m going to make an effort and get back on track, so it will be easier to continue when school starts again, since I’m entering my senior year in college and it’s scary as all f.uck, not to mention busy.
 
TL;DR: here’s to a new start and to hopefully more regular activity.
 

 

 
lexi, mmn.
soundtrack: social distortion - story of my life
 

Summer in the city is always amazing–
 
unless you spend it mediating arguments between your quasi-divorced parents.
 

Summer meant switching between the Hamptons,
 
where my mother fled to escape the divorce and thoughts about my father,
 
and New York, where my father buried himself in work to escape the divorce
and thoughts about my mother. Notice a pattern here?
 
They’re divorcing on grounds of clashing personalities and irreconcilable differences,
but they’re more alike than they like to admit.
 
At this point, I should be thankful for their separation,
because you’d think I’d be over their constant arguments, but…
 
despite the knowledge that this is the right thing,
there’s this tug at my heart, whenever I think about it.
 

My parents are separating.
My parents are getting a divorce.
My parents don’t love each other anymore.
My parents are separating /because/ they love each other. Maybe?
 

I have many feelings about this and none at all,
I contemplate as I stare at the ceiling of my old room in our house in the Hamptons.
 

I would write about it in my childhood diary I dug out from under the bed,
where I’d left it about ten years ago, the last time I vacationed with my parents.
 
But somehow, writing on PowerPuff Girls stationary suddenly seemed silly,
so I called Damien, instead.
 

 

“Hello?”, he answered after a few rings.
 
“I have kawaii stickers on my ceiling,”, I said, flatly.
 
“Lexi?”
 
I rolled my eyes.
“No, your grandma. Who the f.uck else do you know who talks about kawaii?”
 
“What the f.uck is kawaii?”, he seemed confused.
 
I sighed.
“You’re an Old. Get on tumblr.”
 
“What’s-“
 
“Don’t!”
 
“Got it.”, he laughed. “Google that shit, Cohen, or else you’re going to get dumped by your teenage girlfriend.”
 
“Hey!”, I scrunched my nose. “I take offense! I’m an adult.”
 
“Yes, you are.”
 
“And adults do…adult things.”, I smiled.
 
“Yes, they do.”, I could feel him smiling, even over the phone.
 
I grinned.
 
“…however, teachers don’t do adult things with their students.”, he continued, before I could open my mouth.
 
“But-“, I protested.
 
“Not when they’re miles away and staying with their parents, anyway.”
 
“Adult students sometimes get rid of their mid-life crisis parents and have some fun, you know.”, I offered.
 
“Yeah, in September, when the school year starts.”, he reminded me and I sighed again.
 
“How much is it till’ September, again?”
 
“As much as it was last night, when you asked me.”
 

There was a small silence.
 

“Adult students are sometimes upset by their parents’ divorce, too. Does that make them lame?”, I asked.
 
“No, not at all.”, he said, kindly.
“Adults are allowed to be affected by things that matter, too.”
 
I nodded, as a reassurance to myself.
 

 

Since getting separated, my mother has suddenly become very needy,
and deems normal to ask me to come home every weekend, ever since I went back to school.
 
My answer is usually monosyllabic and followed by a rude hang-up, but then she calls again
and starts making me feel guilty for leaving “an old woman alone”.
 

“Mom, you’re 43 and you look like you’re 30.”, I rolled my eyes.
“You are not an old woman.”
 
I swear, it’s like taking care of a child.
 
“What do you mean, I look 30?”, she asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Do you thing that I’ve let myself go? Is that what you’re saying?!”
 
For the love of-
 
“Mom, you’re going to be fine. I have to study, bye.”
 
Ok, that was a lie, and I was going to see Damien,
but she doesn’t have to know that, right?
 

We usually only see each other in private on weekends,
and we have to be very careful and basically sneak around,
because if Gossip Girl gets a whiff of this, “bad” does not even begin to describe it.
 

 
Another wonderful perk of having a desperate mother who likes to dramatically call herself a “divorcee”
and a father who never calls you, but likes to fight with your mother over who gets the kid for the holidays is having two sets of holidays.
 
Two Thanksgivings.
Two Christmases.
Two New Year’s Eve parties.
Lots of food.
Lots of unknown people , that my mom likes to call “new divorcee friends!”
Lots of unhappy tv-watching in the dark, by myself,
that my dad likes to call “celebrating the holidays”, while he’s in his office, working.
Lots of dramatic tears. (courtesy of my mother)
Lots of awkward hugs. (courtesy of my father)
Lots of happy, happy booze to make them all seem even remotely bearable.

Kids, I am horrendously behind, so I'm just going to leave this here and sneak back out before Alex can kill me, ok? I'm reading stories! I love you!
 

 
mmn, lexi.
april.
 

 
soundtrack: the killers - romeo and juliet
 

 
Damien kissed the skin behind my ear softly,
lowering his mouth to my earlobe and sucking on it gently.
 

My neck followed quickly after,
his lips traced down on the side,
while his hands travelled up and down my body.
 

His kisses were warm and sweet and I grew hotter and hotter,
overwhelmed with the desire to rip his clothes off,
and have him help me get rid of mine.
 

My breath hitched,
as his hand reached lower and lower until-
 

 
“LEXI, YOU LAZY-A.SS B.ITCH, GET THE F.UCK UP, IT’S NOON!”, I heard a female voice yelling.
 

A pillow hit me over the face in the following moment.
 

No.
Oh no.
Please, please God, no.
 

“Effie, what the /f.uck/?”, I got up, clutching the pillow tightly in annoyance.
 

Effie burst into laughter.
“Wow, you do /not/ look good with pillow-hair.”, she pointed at me and laughed.
 

“F.uck you.”, I muttered, glaring at her from under the covers.
 

 
She just kept on laughing.
As usual, regular Effie would do.
 

 
My frown melted away;
she was better, she was laughing.
She was out of the woods, now, right?
 

 
I’d been living in constant fear that she would start cutting again or do something crazy,
but she seemed healthy and fine, and all I could be was happy.
 

 
So I just sighed and dragged my tired, old bones out of bed,
making a mental note to continue that dream later.
 

 
I found freshly-made pancakes on the kitchen counter,
as my recently-out-of-depression roommate had taken quite a passion for making them.
They reminded her of home, she said. A family tradition with her brother that she never talked much about.
 

 
Which is why I couldn’t argue with the pancake menu,
especially since she made them with so much love.
 

 
I turned around to thank her,
only to find that she’d skipped off to her room.
 

 
I felt a pang of fear in the pit of my stomach.
 

No, she’d been good.
She was happy, she wasn’t cutting, I told myself.
 

A voice in my head reminded me that she’d be wearing long sleeves, though – what was she trying to hide?
 

I walked over to her room, determined to find out,
but I stopped in front of her closed door.
 

 
What If I was being paranoid, over-protective?
The girl had been good. She was going to the doctor.
I can’t barge in with my stupid distrusting nature and ruin all her progress.
 

 
I shook my head and backed away.
Don’t do it, Lexi. Leave her alone.
 

 
I started walking away, but stopped mid-step, as I smelt smoke.
No. No, no, no.
 

Fire, bad.
She could be burning herself with a cigarette or a lighter or she could be smoking something awful-
 

 
“Oh, hi, Lex.”, she greeted me with wide eyes, as I practically broke through the door. Like a ninja.
“What’s up?”
 

 
She was standing in front of her easel, painting. Doing the school assignment, actually.
On the table next to her, there was an aroma-therapy lamp. One that I’d bought her.
 

 
And I now looked like an idiot.
 

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and a bit confused.
 

 
“I…I, eh, I wanted to thank you for the pancakes.”, I mumbled, backing away.
 

 
“Oh.”, she shrugged.
“No problem.”
 

 
I smiled tightly and awkwardly waved before I exited her room and closed the door.
 

 
I breathed a sigh of relief.
 

 
Too much love can make me such a moron, sometimes.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 
I’d signed up to work for the Verona gazette to keep my mind off things – things like my parents’ divorce and things like the fact that Eddie called me nearly two months ago, never to appear again.
 

 
I’d been replaying that two-second conversation over and over again in my head,
feeling a sting in my chest every time I remembered the disappointment in his voice.
Forget it, he said. It was stupid. That hurt a lot more than I’d predicted it would.
 

 
Fortunately, I now had plenty of activity to keep my life occupied.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t had the inspiration to check which professor was our supervisor.
 

 
Which accounted for a particularly awkward late afternoon in the deserted newsroom.
 

 
I’d stayed in late, so I could work on the layout.
There were some pictures I thought didn’t quite fit, so I tried to select different ones.
 

 
I was so deeply engrossed in my work, I didn’t notice when a dark silhouette appeared in the doorway.
 

 
*Damien*
 

I walked into the semi-darkness of the newsroom to retrieve the briefcase I’d previously forgotten.
It was late and I’d thought that everybody had gone home. But there was a busy bee with her desk lamp on, in the back of the room.
 

 
A beautiful, blue-eyed bee that was squinting at some photos she had in front of her, wearing a small frown.
 

 
I smiled, involuntarily.
I don’t know what it was about her, but the sight of this girl always made me happy.
 

 
*Lexi*
 

I looked up and jumped, startled.
Damien was leaning in the doorway, wearing a smile on that lovely face of his.
 

 
My heart got caught in my throat.
 

 
“Um, hi.”, I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flash red.
 

 
“Hi.”, his smile got wider.
He walked over to my desk.
 

 
“What are you working on, this late at night? Don’t you crazy kids ever take breaks?”, he leaned in to study the pictures from up close.
 

 
“This one…should go here, don’t you think?”, he said, but I was too busy staring at him.
 

 
“W-what?”, I said, distracted.
 

 
He laughed.
“Never mind, you’re tired. You really shouldn’t work this late. Have you at least had something to eat?”, he asked, and I thought I saw a shadow of concern cross his face. Probably imagined it.
 

 
I shook my head no.
 

He frowned.
“Ok, you’re done for today. Get up.”, he ordered.
 

 
“What?”, I asked, confused.
 

 
“Come on, we’re going to get something to eat. You must be starving.”
 

 
“Uh, not really.”, I lied.
My stomach growled.
Traitor.
 

 
Damien arched an eyebrow.
“You need to eat something. Or else I’ll fail you.”, he narrowed his eyes.
 

 
My eyes went wide.
 

 
He laughed.
“Lexi…I was /kidding/. Now please, let me feed you. You’re so skinny.”
 

 
I blushed, rather violently.
 

 
I shouldn’t go.
I really shouldn’t go.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Damien*
 

 
“Wow, this place is amazing.”, she said, with her mouth full.
She was holding a burger that was too large for her small hands,
and everything was falling out of it. She got burger all over the table,
and her face had mustard and ketchup smeared all over it.
 

It was probably the least lady-like instance in the world, and I found it endearing and adorable.
Which was wrong on sooo many levels.
 

I smiled.
 

 
“Yeah, it’s really great, I come here often, for the great burgers. Too bad it’s so far away from the campus.”
 

 
She finished chewing and leaned in across the table.
 

 
“Well, let me tell you – for these burgers, it’s f.ucking worth it.”
“Ooops, excuse my language.”, she looked away, embarrassed.
 

 
I laughed.
 

 
“No, you’re absolutely right. It /is/ f.ucking worth it.”
 

 

*Lexi*
 

“God, Lexi, you must have been a really messy eater, as a child.”, Damien laughed.
 

 
I stopped mid-bite, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Did I have food on my face?
 

 
I stared at my reflection in a salt shaker.
 

“Oh my god!”, I nearly spat my food out.
“I’m a mess, why didn’t you tell me?!”, I yelled, horrified, as I reached for a napkin.
 

 
“I didn’t want to disturb you while you were eating.”, he shrugged.
“Plus, you were kind of adorable.”
 

 
I snorted.
“Yeah, mustard all over my face is really attractive.”, I threw a crumpled napkin at him, playfully.
 

 
“Anything on you is attractive.”, he said, suddenly, then stopped when he realized what had come out of his mouth.
 

 
OH. MY. GOD.
 

 
“I’m so sorry, that was wildly inappropriate. I was way out of line. I apologize.”, he said, quickly, not even daring to look at me.
 

 
He looked so uncomfortable,
and at the same time, I was both embarrassed and so happy, I could die.
 

 
“Uh, it’s fine. No big deal.”, I said, cautiously.
“It doesn’t matter.”
 

 
He looked up.
 

“You’re not upset? Because if you are, I totally understand.”
 

 
“Nah.”, I shrugged.
“We’re cool.”
 

 
He smiled.
 

 
“We’re cool?”
 

 
“We’re cool.”, I repeated, and smiled back.
 

He may try to ignore it, or shrug it off, or pretend that it was a mistake.
But he said it, didn’t he? He couldn’t help it.
 

I knew that I was approaching dangerous territory,
but I couldn’t help it, either. I wanted him.
 

 

 

 

Comfortable hours of laughter later,
we emerged from the fast-food restaurant and into the pouring rain.
 

 
We dashed towards the car, but we still got absolutely soaked.
The clothes clung unattractively to my skin, my makeup smeared all over my face,
and my hair stuck messily to my head.
 

 
Super.
 

 

 

 

“Listen, you can stop here. I’ll just walk home.”, I said, as we entered the gates of the campus.
 

 
He shook his head.
 

 
“No way in hell am I doing that. You’re going to catch a cold. We’re going to stop by my place, get you some dry clothes, and then you can go home.”
 

 
Hey, I have no problem with that.
But I still had to act like a lady and insist that I go home, dammit.
 

 
“No, it’s ok, I can walk home. I have a really healthy immune system.”, I lied.
 

 
“A-ha.”, he said, ignoring me completely and continuing to drive.
 

 
Oh, well. I tried.
 

 

 

 

*Damien*
 

“You have a really nice apartment.”, Lexi shouted from the living room, while I was fetching her clothes from the bedroom.
 

 
“Thanks.”, I said, returning with the clothes.
I found her in front of my bookcase, studying my leather-cover edition of Lord of the Rings .
 

 
“Seriously?”, she laughed, pulling one of the books out.
 

“Hey, those are really good books, ok?”, I said, defensively.
 

“Geek!”, she pointed and laughed.
“Let me guess, do you also like Stark Trek?”
 

 
“Uh, no.”, I lied, hoping that she wouldn’t find the DVDs.
 

 
“Here, I brought you some dry clothes. You can change in my room, there’s also a hair drier, if you need it.”, I handed her one of my shirts and the smallest pair of pants I could find.
 

 
“Oh, thanks.”, she took them and kissed my cheek and skipped to my bedroom to get dressed.
 

 
I brushed my fingers against my cheek slightly and smiled.
She’s in my room right now, naked.
Damn, that girl.
 

 

 

 
She emerged from my bedroom, finally,
with one of my white shirts draped over her shoulders,
hanging on her slender frame, the hem gently brushing her thighs.
 

 
It was slightly unbuttoned, and a patch of white, glowing skin was peeking through,
revealing her pale, white neck, and barely a hint of her breasts.
 

 
“The pants were way too big.”, she shrugged.
“And I couldn’t find a belt.”
 

 
Her messy blonde hair was hanging down to her waist.
She walked over to me, and took a seat in front of me.
She tucked her long, slender legs beneath her in what I believe is a classical yoga position – What was it called, lotus? God, that was gay. Why do I even know that? – and she just stared at me with those blue eyes.
 

 
It was quiet.
There were no words, and I was just staring at her in awe,
like I had been ever since she walked in the room.
 

She was just looking into my eyes, calmly, with her hands resting on her knees,
looking at me like she knew exactly what I was thinking,
and she understood perfectly.
 

 
I was paralyzed.
I was afraid.
 

 
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t want it to stop,
I didn’t want her to go away.
 

If I said something, I would ruin it.
If I didn’t say something, I would still somehow find some way to ruin it.
I stopped breathing, because I was afraid that I would ruin it.
 

“You know, I think that you were Hemingway in a past life.”, she suddenly said, smiling slightly.
 

 
“W-what?”, I mumbled.
 

 
She just kind of sighed dreamily, and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“I was saying that I think that in a past life, you were Hemingway or someone. You know, a really talented writer. A deep soul. Someone who understood life, someone who created amazing, incredible things.”
 

 
I had a sudden flashback of my ex-girlfriend, telling me that I was a loser teacher and that I should cut the c.rap with the writing and get a real job, like in a bank or something.
 

 
She paused, and looked up.
 
“I can see it when I look into your eyes. You have such kind eyes. And deep, and serious and mysterious, all at the same time. And I don’t know how, but you have the eyes of a very old, very wise man, and of a child, at the same time. When I look into your eyes, I can see the man who lived, the man who writes.”, she said, putting a hand on my cheek.
 
“But I can see the little boy, too.”, she smiled.
 

 
I grew warm under her touch, all of a sudden.
It was like a ball of warmth that started forming inside my stomach and invaded my body, slowly.
Slowly, but surely, it spread everywhere, in went through my stomach, and through my heart, and it went to my head, and into my fingertips.
 

Never in my life has someone made me feel that.
 

 
I panicked.
I had no idea what to do.
 

I cleared my throat.
“You know that Hemingway is rumored to have been gay, right?”
 

 
God, Cohen, you’re an idiot.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
 

 
“Oh, I’m sorry.”, she shook her head and took her hand away.
“I’m sorry I’m rambling like a crazy person, you must think I’m insane. I’m sorry.”
 

 
She spoke with her eyes into the ground and she wanted to get up.
 

I told you I’d ruin it.
 

I grabbed her arm.
 

 
“Don’t go.”, I said.
“Please don’t leave me alone.”
 

 
She looked down into my eyes for a moment, seemingly considering it.
Then she nodded silently, and resumed her previous position on the floor, in front of me.
 

 
“I shouldn’t be here.”, she said, quietly.
“It’s…it’s wrong.”, she looked down, avoiding my eyes.
 

 
“I know.”, I nodded.
“I know.”
 

 
Of course I knew.
Look at me, sitting here with a 20-year-old girl.
Sitting here, in my apartment, with my /student/.
Of course it’s wrong. Isn’t it illegal, too? Or at least against school policy.
 

 
I could get kicked out and I could get her kicked out, too.
I’ll always be the old guy who fooled around with a kid.
She’ll always be /that/ girl who’s suspected of having slept with a teacher,
even though god knows she’s innocent.
 

 
Of course this is dangerous and inappropriate,
and the rational part of me is yelling and flailing its arms for me to tell Lexi to go home.
But then again, that warm feeling in my gut is telling me that she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and that I’ve been dying to kiss her.
 

 
I didn’t do any of that, like the coward that I am.
I didn’t do the right thing, and I didn’t slip into self-indulgence.
 

I didn’t tell her to leave, and I didn’t do anything that I couldn’t undo,
but I did sit there with her, holding her hand, even though I wasn’t supposed to.
 

 
She sighed.
“My parents are getting a divorce.”, she said, suddenly.
 

“What?”
 

“My parents…they’ve always fought. My entire childhood, the whole time I was growing up, they were always fighting.”, she said, playing with the hem of my shirt.
“…usually because of me.”, she trailed off.
 

 
“I’m sure that’s not true. People fight for a lot of reasons.”
 

 
She shook her head.
“No, it was always about me. I know, because my mother has been telling me it’s my fault my entire life. Then again, she fights with everyone.”, she laughed lightly.
“I just thought…I just thought that if I left home, they’d reconnect, you know? I thought they’d get to spend some time alone and patch things up, but they apparently just found other things to fight about.”
 

“I’m sorry.”, I squeezed her hand.
 

 
“Yeah, me too.”, she gave me a sad smile.
“I don’t even know why I’m so surprised; this was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s just that I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. My mother is impossible, my dad is always unavailable, my roommate has enough serious problems of her own, poor thing, my best friend hates me…I’m alone. I have no one.”
 

 
I couldn’t stand seeing that sadness in her eyes,
and her feelings…they resonated with me. I’d always been alone, I knew how that felt.
I took her into my arms, and she let herself go, she started crying softly, and my shirt got soaked for the second time that night.
 

 

 

 

 

*Lexi*
 

“I’m sorry about your shirt. I’m so embarrassed.”, I covered my face with my hands.
 

 
“It’s ok, I have another one.”, he turned to smile at me.
 

That made me giggle.
 

 
He had let me compose myself after that mini-meltdown I hadn’t anticipated,
and he insisted on driving me home, because I’m obviously too much of a wreck to be trusted to find my own way home.
 

We spent the rest of the car ride in silence.
He wore a small frown, totally concentrated on the road,
while I switched from feeling sorry for myself to dying of embarrassment that I lost it in front of him.
 

It had done me good to let it all out, considering the fact that I’d been holding it in for months,
but I’d rather not have rambled about my family problems to the man of my dreams.
Smooth move, Lexi. Now he’s /never/ going to see you as anything else but a child.
 

 

“This is your stop.”, he said, and I reached for my purse.
 

 
“Thank you.”, I smiled.
“And err…sorry for the breakdown.”
 

He nodded.
 

“Bye.”
 

“Lexi, wait.”, he grabbed my arm.
 

“Yeah?”
 

“If you ever need to talk…I’m here. It’s ok, you can count on me.”
 

 
I looked at him,
and all I could think about was that he was completely adorable.
Ugh, that man.
 

 
“Thanks.”, I smiled and leaned in to hug him.
 

He put his arms around me and pulled me closer,
as his lips rested on the top of my head.
 

I drew apart for a second and looked into his eyes,
stroking his cheek.
 

The next moments were all sparks and fireworks,
as our lips touched, and his arms tightened around me.
 

 
I knew it was wrong, and I knew he was aware as well,
but it felt right, and he couldn’t possibly deny that.
If he did, he was lying.
 

 
“Lexi…”, he drew apart, suddenly, looking at me with scared eyes.
 

 
“I know…”, I whispered.
 

 
“Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it.”, he smashed his fist on the dashboard.
“What is wrong with me?”
 

I stared at my shoes quietly.
F.uck. I know he’s right, and I know we can get in trouble, but…
 

 
“This can’t be.”, he shook his head.
“You know we can’t do this.”
 

 
I knew. Of course I knew.
I’d been telling myself that I knew.
But I also knew that it was supposed to happen and that I didn’t regret it.
 

 
“Damien, this is wrong, I know.”, I started.
 

 
“Damn right it is.”
 

 
“…but it didn’t felt wrong, did it?”, I went on.
 

 
He looked away, without giving me an answer.
 

 
“Damien?”, I forced him to look at me.
 

 
He shook his head, reluctantly.
“No, it didn’t.”, he sighed.
 

 

 

“Damien…do you think that you could fall for me?”, I asked, after a few moments of silence.
 

 
He seemed lost for a second, looking into my eyes.
But he composed himself quickly.
 

 
“Lexi, we’re not doing this, I’m sorry.”
 

 
“Answer me. I need an answer. Damien!”, I insisted.
 

 
“I’m not going to give you an answer, because the answer is irrelevant. Nothing is ever going to happen between us, do you understand? Never. It can’t.”
 

 
“No, please, Damien. Tell me.”, I pleaded.
“If I weren’t younger…If I weren’t who I am and you weren’t who you are, if we weren’t stuck in this c.rappy situation, would you fall in love with me?”, I looked into his eyes.
 

 
He just stared, dark eyes and all,
with his mouth hanging slightly open.
 

 
“Would you?”, I repeated, my voice trembling.
 

 
He looked away, thrusting a hand through his hair,
before releasing a heavy sigh.
 

 
He nodded, finally.
 

Imperceptibly, almost; the smallest movement of his head.
But he did, nonetheless. Without a word, reluctantly, he said yes.
 

 
My eyes filled up and I didn’t need anything else.
 

 
“I’ll wait, you know.”, I managed to get out.
 

I wiped my eyes.
 

“You can’t deny that we connect, that there’s something there. I’ll wait for you to finish teaching my class, or I’ll transfer to another school or-“
 

 
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m much older than you, Lexi. You’re a child. God, I must be going insane.”, he shook his head.
 

 
“No! No, I don’t care about that. I won’t be a student forever.”, I explained, reaching for his hand.
“Listen to me, that doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters.”
 

 
“Yes, it does matter, Lexi, everything matters, we can’t-“
 

 
“No! No. Don’t say anything now. Don’t say “no”. Please wait, please think about it.”, I squeezed his hand.
 

“Please.”
 

 
He looked at me for a moment,
and then bowed his head, defeated.
 

 
He nodded.
 

 
“Yes? You said yes?”, I smiled, happily.
 

 
“I said I’ll think about it.”, he corrected me.
 

 
“It doesn’t matter, that’s good enough for me.”, I grinned.
“I’ll be waiting, Damien.”
 

 
I kissed his cheek and jumped out of the car.
 

 

I’ll be waiting, Damien.
I’ll be waiting.
 

 

- xo, Lexi.
- Damien.

lexi, mmn.
february.
 

 

soundtrack: adele - first love
 

 

Since I was conspicuously absent from mother’s annual Christmas soiree,
that meant that she guilt me into coming home as soon as I had time.
I tried to postpone it for as long as I could, but I finally had to give in.
 

 
I went, not because I had some sudden incredible desire to go argue with my mother,
but because I really, truly missed home. The city. The cars. The smells. The noise.
 

 
The cab dropped me off in front of the building with my small hand luggage.
I stared upwards. It seemed taller than I remembered. And somehow more intimidating.
Or maybe that was only because I knew my mother was somewhere inside the building.
 

 
I took a deep breath, and I stepped inside.
 

 
“I’m sorry, miss? Where are you going?”, a voice came from behind me.
 

 
I turned around.
They’d changed the doorman.
 

 
“Top floor. “, I motioned upwards, with an eyeroll.
“I’m Lexi Montgomery.”
 

 
“Oh.”, he said.
 

 
I gave him a fake smile and started for the elevator.
 

 
“Oh, miss?”, the man spoke again.
 

I turned around, exasperated.
 

 
“Can you show me an identification document?”, he looked at me expectingly.
 

I just stared at him, with wide eyes.
 

 
“Excuse-me?”
 
I was confused.
 

 
“Can you or can’t you?”, he inquired.
 

 
“I…I don’t think I have my ID with me.”, I suddenly realized, while searching my shoulder bag.
 

He raised an eyebrow.
 

 
“Can you please open your luggage, miss?”
 

 
Open my-
 

“What?”, I stared at him.
“Dude, look, you don’t know me, but I’m the Montgomerys’ daughter, ok?”
 

 
He seemed unphased.
 

 
“Dude, I /live/ here.”, I explained.
 

 
“/Dude/, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery don’t /have/ a daughter.”, he narrowed his eyes at me.
“Now please open your luggage or leave the building.”
 

 
“What the fuck?”
 

I whipped out my blackberry and speed-dialed mom.
 

 
It rang, and it rang, and it raaaaang
 

 
“Come on, Lucille, I know you’re home, goddammit, pick up your fucking ridiculous Swarovski crystal-covered phone!”, I muttered to myself, tapping my foot on the floor.
 

 
“Yeees?”, my mother’s voice came through, lazily.
 

 
“Mom, what the fuck? The doorman thinks I’m some sort of dangerous weirdo and we won’t let me in. He says you guys don’t even have a daughter. Didn’t you tell him I was coming? Or that, you know, I EXIST?”, I fumed.
 

 
“Alexia, darling, what is that language? I sent you to college to get educated, not to acquire the vocabulary of a thug. But of course, what can you expect from that sub-par college you insisted on going to? If you’d gone to Yale or to Brown, or even Princeton-“
 

 
“My god, MOM! Please tell the stupid doorman that I’m not here to steal your silver cutlery and that I actually pertain to this family?”, I yelled and passed the doorman the phone.
 

 
“Hello? Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Montgomery.”, he smiled in recognition at my mother’s voice.
“Yes. Yes, my family is fine, thank you for asking.”
 

 
He took his sweet time nodding at smiling at everything she said.
“Yes, we /do/ have a lovely weather, for this time of year.”
 

 
I groaned in frustration.
 

 
Mr. Doorman seemed to notice and asked if I were indeed from the breed of Montgomerys.
My mother apparently said yes, because his smile tightened, he nodded and handed me the phone back.
 

 
“She says you’re the daughter”, he narrowed his eyes.
“But you don’t act like it.”, he scoffed.
 

 
I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m going to go up, now.”, I said, grabbing my bag from the floor.
“See you around, I’m so glad we’re friends, now. Say hello to the kids!”
 

 
I waved and gave him a big ol’ fake smile, while I waited for the elevator doors to close,
and he just rolled his eyes.
 

 

 

I don’t think he likes me very much.
 

 
***
 

 
My father, of course, was nowhere to be found.
“He’s busy.”, my mother ended my inquiries quickly,
but I had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
 

 
“Mom, but-“
 

 
I stopped abruptly, because my telephone started ringing.
 

 
“Hello?”
 

There was no answer.
 

 
“Hello?”, I tried again, but still, no one was there.
 

 
“Who is it, dear?”, my mom asked, happy to change the subject of conversation.
 

 
“No one.”, I said, distracted, putting the phone down.
 

 
I wonder if…nah, it couldn’t be.
 

 
“Oh, well, I have a nail appointment, and-“
 

 
“No, mom. Stop. We haven’t finished our conversation.”, I walked over to the door.
 

 
“What conversation?”, my mother feigned ignorance.
 

 
“About dad.”, I crossed my arms.
“Where is he?”
 

 
“Oh, darling, he’s busy, I told you.”, she laughed nervously.
“Now, if you’d let me pass, I need to get to my nail appointment.”
 

 
She tried to walk past me, but I blocked the door.
 

 
“Bullshit. Why aren’t his clothes in his room?”, I pushed.
 

 
“Alexia, watch that language!”
 

 
Of course she’d try to divert the conversation.
 

 
“Why?”, I asked again.
 

 
“Oh, silly me.”, she laughed, suddenly.
“Your father is on a business trip, of course! I don’t know how I was able to forget.”
 

 
Really? Does she think I’m an idiot?
 

 
“Where?”, I barked.
 

 
“Pardon-me?”, her eyes were wide.
 

 
“/Where/ is he, on this alleged business trip?”, I arched an eyebrow.
 

 
“Um, well, where he always goes. Wherever he has business to attend to.”, she mumbled.
“Now, I absolutely need to get to my appointment, so we can finish this delightful conversation later, ok? It’s so good to have you home, daughter!”, she smiled.
 

 
I sighed.
 

 
“Mother, why has dad moved out?”, I asked, bluntly.
 

 
There was a moment of silence.
 

 
Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly.
She was cornered. She had no lies prepared for direct confrontation.
She was about to crack.
 

 
She sighed and dumped her Chanel purse on the white rug in our very color-coordinated living room.
She motioned me to take a seat beside her on the couch.
 

 
“Alexia, we’ve been trying to spare you, and find a perfect opportunity to tell you, but if that is now, than so be it. You father and I…well, things are less than perfect. We don’t get to spend much time together, because we both work so much, and we have our differences, and well…we thought that the best thing would be to take some time off.”, she explained, calmly.
 

 
Just what I was afraid of.
 

 
“Are you guys separating?”, I asked, my voice trembling.
“Are you getting a divorce?”
 

 
“I don’t know. We need to have a meeting, I’m going to call my lawyers to meet up with his lawyers and-“
 

 
My gaze shot up.
 

 
“Lawyers? Mom, you have marital issues, you surely can resolve this between the two of you, you don’t need to involve lawyers.”
 

 
“This is a simple procedure, Alexia. Our lawyers will have a meeting and discuss what is to be done and what would the complications consist of and if it’s in our advantage to get a divorce or simply separate, then there’s the press that needs to be taken care of…oh, there’s just so much to do.”
 

 
“What? You’re not even going to talk to him?”, my mouth dropped open in shock.
“You’re just going to send your freaking lawyers over and do the most /convenient/ thing? What is wrong with you?”
 

 
“Alexia, there is no need for a scene.”, she said, perfectly composed, while I was fuming.
 

 
“I want to talk to him. I want to talk to dad.”, I said, suddenly.
“Where is he staying?”
 

 
“You don’t need to disrupt your father.”, she said, with a hand motion.
“I’m sure he’s really busy. I’ve told you all you need to know.”
 

 
She got up and picked up her bag.
 

 
“I don’t believe you.”, I said, following her.
“This is all /your/ fault, you drove daddy away!” , I sneered.
 

 
She shook her head.
 

 
“Now, that is simply not true.”
 

 
“Of course it is! You chased him away, because you’re crazy! Because you can’t let anyone live, you suffocate everyone!”, I yelled.
 

 
“Alexia, I will not allow you to speak to me that way.”, she rose her voice a notch, obviously trying to control herself and not start a yelling contest against me.
 

 
“Fuck that.”, I picked up my bag.
“I’m going to find dad.”
 

 
I walked out and pushed the button for the elevator to come up.
 

 
My phone started ringing again.
 

“Hello?”, I spat.
 

 
Nothing.
 

 
“Hello? Is anyone there? Don’t be an annoying little fuck, answer!”
 

 
After a couple more seconds of silence, I hung up.
 

Well, fuck you, too, buddy.
 

 

***

 

Much later that night, I had to give up and go back home,
after having spent way too much time looking for my father.
 

 

I was tired; really tired of everything. I’d only been home for a few hours,
and I was ready to go back to school.
 

 
I pushed the heavy door of my parents’ building, and the doorman watched me from the corner of his eye, with a dissatisfied expression on his face.
 

 
But I was tired. Too tired to get offended by his distrust.
 

 
I had to go up to my parents’ apartment, where I would undoubtedly find my mother,
and we would start another fight.
 

 
But I was tired.
 

 
I pushed the button for the elevator and waited patiently and quietly for the doors to open.
I looked up and watched the lights change, the numbers going backwards.
15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10-
 

 
My phone started ringing, and my fingers fumbled in my pocket to find it.
 

 
“Hello?”
 

…
 

 
“Hello?”, I tried again, but there was still no answer.
 

 
I took a deep breath.
 

 
“Eddie, if that’s you…”, I started, my voice shaking, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my thought.
 

 
I was only met with more silence.
 

 
“Eddie…please. I know it’s you. It has to be.”, I pleaded, tears caught in my throat.
“Please, say something.”
 

 
I clenched the phone tighter.
 

 
I waited.
I hoped.
I prayed.
 

In vain.
 

 
My thumb was ready to push the button that would cut off this painful non-conversation.
 

 
But suddenly,
 

 
“I-… I just wanted to hear your voice. It was stupid, forget it.”, he said, before letting me go.
 

 
I only heard his voice for a second, before disappearing,
like a ghost, or an illusion in the desert.
Maybe I was just tired.
 

 
I was imagining it all, or losing my mind, hearing voices.
 

 
“Forgive me.”, I whispered quietly to myself, long after he’d hung up.
 

 
The memories emerged from the darkness,
from where I’d repressed them for so long,
from where I’d hid them, far away
in the back of my mind.
 

I let the tears spill, there was no use keeping them in anymore.
 

The pain that accompanied them was only natural, I guess,
as was the guilt and remorse, the regrets and the terrible thoughts that overcame me.
 

 
I was left staring at the phone, in a numb state of disbelief.
I was doubting myself.
 

 
Was that him?
Was it, really?
 

 
The first time I’d heard from him, in months.
After I crushed him, and then left.
 

 
The elevator doors slid open, but I just stood there staring,
face wet with tears.
 

 
Doorman Guy was also staring,
staring at this little show I was putting on, with a head hanging down in sorrow and hunched shoulders.
 

 

 
I didn't care anymore,
I was tired of all of it.
 

 

So, so tired.
 

 

 

- xo, lexi.
 

 

*this really sucked and I'm sorry. But I had to get this done, in order to be able to move on to my next stories. I have stuff planned, I'm catching up, so there are more stories on the way! Plus, I'm catching up with everyone else's stories, yay. I can't wait to read them all. I needed my mmn fix :D

Wooo, how are all the lovely ladies doing, eh?
Look, it's a set! With an actual story! I'm back! And I saw a couple of other stories that I'm dying to read and I am so happy that I've finally stopped neglecting poor Lexi.
 

 
Ok, so this story is happening back in december/january, because where I left Lexi off (cruel, I know), but I shall bring her into the summer the following days. In the meantime, reading this might help, because this story begins on Christmas Eve: http://www.polyvore.com/mmn_ill_be_home_for/set?id=41436829
 

soundtrack: gotye - heart's a mess
 

 
december, the 24th.
 

 

 
*Damien*
 

 
Of all the days, I had to run out of cigarettes on Christmas Eve.
So naturally, the nicotine hunger pushed me out of the house and into the freezing cold,
desperately looking for a crazy shop keeper who still kept a place open for sad people like me.
 

 
For poor sods who didn’t go home for Christmas,
and had to remain on campus.
 

Not that I’d particularly cared;
no wife and kids waiting for me at home,
not even parents. My nana died recently, so yeah.
 

Flying solo has become second nature to me,
since my folks died when I was young. I got used to doing stuff by myself, so it’s fine.
I just get annoyed when people give me that pity look and say “I’m sorry”, when they hear about it.
No, you’re not sorry, you didn’t even know them. And you don’t know me that well, as a matter of fact.
And who the hell cares, anyway? People just irritate me. I don’t know why in the world I chose to teach.
 

 

I kept pushing through the snow, and searching, and looking,
and I ended up in the other end of the fucking campus, and nothing.
Not one open shop door on a thousand-mile radius. Nada.
 

 

At this point, I couldn’t feel my ears anymore, maybe they’d fallen off,
and I’m pretty sure that my lips had turned a very particular shade of frozen-purple.
 

Lookin’ good.
 

 
I made it to the main entrance in the campus, and something caught my eye.
A mass of shiny blonde hair fluttering through the wind. Conveniently attached to this beautiful head.
It was that girl from the other night, I realized, suddenly.
 

 
Lola? Lottie? Lexi, that’s right. Lexi.
 

 
She was running towards the closed gates of Verona campus, luggage in hand.
Where is she going? The campus is closed, we’ve been snowed in. It was announced days ago.
 

Oh wait. Why is she here? Didn’t she get to go home?
Is she stuck spending the holidays here?
 

 
Man, that’s gotta suck.
It doesn’t bother me as much, I’m used to it.
But her…I don’t know. Something tells me that for /her/, it’s a big deal.
 

 

I stopped and watched her from a couple of feet away.
 

 

Like a stalker.
 

 
But I quickly brushed that feeling away.
She was apparently really upset, ‘cause she grabbed that guard’s collar.
 

But she didn’t succeed, and she turned around, looking defeated,
dragging those damn suitcases through the snow.
 

 
The snow, the pearly whiteness of the snow reflected in her blue watery eyes,
and it sparkled, like tiny golden stars in her eyes, when they caught the light.
 

 
I wanted to go comfort her, but what could I possibly say?
She didn’t need her professor awkwardly chatting her up right now, right?
 

 
I decided that it was best to leave her alone,
although it still bothered me that she was spending Christmas by herself.
So much in fact, that I thought about it for the rest of the day, which I spent without any goddamn cigarettes.
 

And I even thought about her the following days, and once or twice on New Year’s.
 

 

Like a stalker.
 

 

Damn, Cohen, when the hell did you become so compassionate?
 

 

 
january.
 

*Lexi*
 

 

 
Okay, I know it’s bad to fantasize about your professors – trust me, I do.
 

 
But look at him – the way those eyes locked on mine, rawr.
And that hair, god, I’d love to let my fingers get tangled in that hair.
Not to mention how delicious a sensation his chin grazing against my skin would make.
 

 

Yes, these are pretty much the thoughts that go through my head during every Literature class.
 

 
Bad?
Wrong?
Immoral?
 

Yes.
 

 
Am I going to hell?
 

Most likely.
 

 
Worth it?
 

Totally.
 

 

“God, look at that a.ss.”, a girl to my right said, staring straight ahead.
 

 
“Who?”, I looked at her suspiciously.
 

“Professor Cohen.”, she sighed.
“He’s like, so dreamy.”
 

 
Le gasp! I knew it!
Back off, s.lut.
 

 
“Mmm, I don’t know.”, I scrunched up my nose.
”I think he’s an arrogant son of a b.itch.”, I lied. “I heard he treats women very badly. Hates them.”
 

 
Her eyes widened.
“Really? But he seems so sweet.”
 

 
Yes, he is.
And he is also mine.
 

 
“Where’d you hear that?”
 

“Oh, everyone knows about it. Apparently he has a reputation. I’d keep my eyes open for this one.”, I shrugged.
 

 
She looked a little bewildered.
She also refrained from lusting over him for the remainder of the class.
 

 
Ha! Serves you right, b.itch.
 

 

 
Later that day, while I was headed back home for a prolonged study session,
I found myself wrestling the snow to make my way into the building.
I wasn’t doing quite a shabby job – until I slipped, that is,
and almost hit the ground, save for a pair of hands
that came in between me and the slippery pavement.
 

The same hands that always seem to come in between me and disaster.
The same hands that I’d like to introduce to other places on my body.
 

“Be careful, now. You wouldn’t want to fall and break something.”, Damien said, helping me up.
 

 
“Thank you, Professor Cohen.”, I said, holding on to his hand a little longer than necessary.
“You’re quite a life saver. Just that this time, I’m not covered in puke.”, I joked.
 

I immediately felt like kicking myself.
 

I brought up puke? My god, what is wrong with me?!
Okay, just…shut up. Don’t say anything else.
Stop embarrassing yourself.
 

 
He just laughed.
“True, that. And you can call me Damien – unless we’re in class – that might be a little awkward for you colleagues.”
 

 
I nodded and smiled tightly.
He tells me to call him Damien, but then brings up class and colleagues.
 

Will the torture ever end?
 

 
“So, how are you? Is everything alright?”, he asked, and I thought I saw a shadow of concern on his face.
 

 
“Hmm…yeah. I’m fine.”, I shrugged.
“Why?”
 

“Well, I saw you a couple of days ago; on Christmas Eve, actually. You didn’t seem happy.”, he said.
“Is something wrong?”, a slight frown formed on his face.
 

 
I stared into the ground.
He saw me that day?
He…he- oh damn.
 

 
“I…I didn’t get to go home for the holidays.”, I said quietly.
“I spent Christmas here.”
 

 
I put on a smile, like it was no big deal.
The thing is, it /was/ a big deal. The biggest.
 

 
“By yourself?”
 

I nodded.
 

 
“I know how that feels.”, he said.
 

I looked up.
“Didn’t you go home to your family?”
 

 
“Eh, my parents died when I was a kid and I was brought up by my grandmother, she also passed away recently, so I’ve pretty much been on my own for a while.”, he shrugged.
 

 
“Oh.”
 

 
We fell quiet.
I couldn’t imagine what that felt like – not having a family to make you feel miserable. I mean, it was part of the process of growing up.
 

 
I felt so sad for him,
he was all alone.
 

 
Oh, poor thing.
I could be his family, I would love him so much, if he’d let me.
 

 
I wanted to yell ‘Let me love you!”, but I couldn’t, could I?
 

 
Which is why my mouth ignored my brain and made some dumb invitation.
“Hey, do you want to go have some hot chocolate? Would that be highly inappropriate?”, I cocked my head to the side.
 

 
He seemed to ponder it for a second.
“I don’t see why it would be.”, he smiled.
“Besides, I never pass on hot chocolate.”
 

 
“Neither do I.”, I grinned, and lead the way to the small café I usually go to.
 

 

 

It was quite a small, cozy place. ‘Quaint’, would be my mother’s word of choice to describe it, which in her head sounds more like ‘cramped pile of shit’.
 

We took our seats near the window, which was useless, really, ‘cause it was already dark outside.
The café was only lighted by candles scattered around the place and a few dim lights on the wall.
A somewhat romantic atmosphere, one would say.
 

Sitting in the dark with you Lit teacher, drinking chocolate and staring at each other over a candle.
Not awkward, not awkward at all.
 

 

“So, did you always want to become a teacher?”, I asked, sipping from my dark chocolate.
 

Mmm.
 

 
“No”, he laughed.
“I wanted to be a rockstar.”
 

 
I chocked on my chocolate.
 

 
“No, I’m serious. I still have my guitar at home.”, he grinned.
 

“You play?”, I arched an eyebrow.
 

 
“A-ha. Used to play in a band in highschool. Once in a while, I still turn up the volume on my amp and scare the neighbors. It’s fun.”
 

 

“Wow.”, I stared at him for a while, in quiet admiration.
“So, why the drastic change?”
 

 
“Well, honestly, me and the boys weren’t /that/ good, if you get what I’m saying, so that called for a quick career reorientation.”
 

 
He was smiling, but it was a slightly bitter smile,
a sad one, even. I could tell that he somehow regretted taking this path.
 

I wanted to ask him if he was ever sorry for letting go of his dreams.
But that seemed too personal.
 

 
“And you chose teaching literature? Why?”, I asked, instead.
 

 
“Yeah, well, I was so bored in high school, I would read literally anything that I could get my hands on. Guess that’s where my love for literature came from. Ditching classes and reading in the bleachers, instead of doing math.”, he laughed.
 

I mentally sighed.
The bookworm bad boy. Of course.
 

“That’s amazing. The rockstar loved reading? I bet the girls went wild.”, I teased.
 

 
“Not as much as you’d think. They were too prissy to go for guys like me.”
 

 

I laughed.
“Don’t tell me, did you also have long hair, a motorcycle and a bad smoking habit? ‘Cause that was so cool?”
 

 

“Of course. I still have my motorcycle in my old garage, and my poor grandmother begged me to get my hair cut for /years/. I think she said a prayer the day I finally decided to shorten it.”
 

 
“I can’t imagine that.”, I shook my head.
 

 
“As for the smoking…I’m still struggling with that. Never got rid of the habit.”, he shrugged.
“Not sure I want to, either.”, he added, after a couple of moments.
 

 
“It’s okay to keep a little bit of your teenage edge, Mr. Cohen, I won’t tell.”, I grinned.
 

 
“Good. Then I won’t tell about your imaginary cat.”, he grinned back.
 

I searched his face for answers,
but his expression didn’t give away anything.
 

 
“My god, again with the cat! I do not, for the life of me, remember what you are talking about.”, I frowned.
 

 
“Well, you were a little drunk.”, he explained.
“No, wait. A lot.”
 

 
“Okay, okay, I know that part.”, I covered my face with my hands, in embarrassment.
 

 
“-and you kept saying that you had forgotten to feed the cat, and when I took you home, you searched through your entire apartment, looking for the cat, but couldn’t find it. Followed by the confession of not being sure you even owned one.”, he said, amused.
 

I groaned.
“Any other painfully embarrassing things I need to know? Or can I just go and kill myself now?”, I asked, my face still covered, so he couldn’t see how red I had turned.
 

 
“Aw, don’t feel bad, you were kinda cute, actually.”
 

 
My hands dropped on the table, my eyes open wide.
Did he say cute?
 

 
“Oh.”, my cheeks flushed.
“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
 

 
“I’m not.”, he leaned forward with an impish smile, and my insides melted on the spot.
“So what did you say your major was?”
 

 
“Art.”, I said, trying to focus on the conversation, and stop replaying that previous moment in my head over and over.
 

 
“Hmm. Should have totally seen that coming.”, he said.
 

 
“Why?”, I asked, genuinely interested.
 

 
“Because of your temperament. Look at you, you change your mind with every sentence you utter, you go from angry to excited to sad to anxious in a ten second range, and you basically dramatize everything. It’s almost like you’re bipolar.”
 

He looked me straight in the eye, his expression still,
wearing a small frown, even.
 

Wow. I’ve never felt more ashamed or uncomfortable in my life.
 

 
“Oh. I…-I didn’t realize. I’m sorry if I’m a bother, I didn’t mean to confuse the hell out of you.”, I said, quietly, staring downward, suddenly wishing to be able to slip under the table.
 

 
“No, you got me wrong; I find it fascinating.”, he rushed to explain.
 

 
“What?”, my gaze shot up.
“But- but I’m crazy and bipolar. I’m hysterical and I cannot shut up.”, I said, wearing a dumb expression on my face, no doubt.
 

 
He leaned forward and lowered his voice a notch.
 

“No, no, it’s not like that, I can never get bored with you around. You’re truly one of a kind, Alexia; I’ve never met anyone like you.”
 

I looked at him, with wide eyes.
I was shocked and a little bit in love.
 

 
It took me a while to be able to form words.
“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”, I half-whispered.
 

 
“It’s true.”, he gave me a warm smile.
“You’re special.”
 

“Like stop-eating-the-glue special?”, I snorted.
 

He laughed.
“Like you’re unique.”
 

 
Unique.
What a pretentious word to use to describe /me/.
Neurotic old me.
 

 
Can I have him for myself now?
Please?
 

 
“Thank you.”, I smiled, looking at him over the rim of my mug.
If this goes on for much longer, I might melt and fall inside.
 

 
“You’re welcome.”, he smiled back and took a sip out of his own mug.
He licked his lips in a way that I found very sensuous,
and I couldn’t take it anymore.
 

Oh, why did he have to torture me?
 

 

*Damien*
 

 
She brushed her hair to the side, revealing the pale white nape of her neck.
I had lifted my mug, but I put it right back down.
 

 
My god, it was beautiful.
It was like she was made of porcelain or marble;
so white and smooth and perfect, I couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding underneath her clothes.
 

 
I shook my head, trying to get the image out of my system.
Dude, don’t do this. She’s your student.
 

 
A pretty damn attractive student, a voice in my head reminded me.
Beautiful, intelligent, interesting student.
And hell, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since that night.
 

 
What the hell is wrong with you, man?
She’s so much younger than you; what age is she, anyway? 19? 20, maybe?
That’s still a hell of a lot younger than you. Do not do something stupid, shake it off. Forget it.
 

 
But her eyes – those blue eyes, the way the candle light twinkled in them,
that devilish smile she always gave me, like we were accomplices and doing something completely wrong.
Which we were, by the way, weren’t we? This /was/ inappropriate; I don’t go out with students. Not even for hot chocolate.
 

 
She lured me in here – the way her pink cheeks looked against the whiteness of the snow, that halo-like golden hair, those eyes – she got me bad.
 

 
I had to look away, because I suddenly realized I’d been staring at her for a while.
I don’t think she noticed, because she’d been busy looking for something in her purse, but still.
 

 
What was wrong with me?
I wasn’t /allowed/ to have this kind of um…appreciation for her.
But I couldn’t help it, could I? She was similar to what an angel would look like, in my head. The only thing she was missing was a pair of feathery white wings.
 

 
“Is something wrong?”, a voice suddenly snapped me out of my reverie.
She was looking at me with those wide eyes of her, wearing a small frown.
 

 
I wanted to kiss that frown.
 

 
No. No, no, no, f.uck. F.uck it.
 

 

“Listen, I just remembered that I have some urgent work I need to attend to. I have to go, I’m sorry.”, I lied, avoiding her eyes.
 

 
“Oh.”, she said, flatly.
“It’s okay.”
 

 
“I really am sorry, I’ll see you in class, Ms. Montgomery.”
 

 
I left a random paper bill on the table and fled the café in a hurry, like a coward.
 

 

*Lexi*
 

 
Ms. Montgomery, eh?
So much for being special.
 

 

- xo, Lexi.
- Damien Cohen.

Well .fuck. me gently with a chainsaw*, my last mmn story was for christmas? CHRISTMAS?! i am literally the worst roleplayer out there. i should hide my face in shame. oh well. i have one more week of exams, and then i have some time, lalala, so i'll be catching up with stories and writing. i miss you all so much, let me know what you've been up to!
 

xo, dee.
 

*extra points for who can correctly identify the reference!

look what i found in my drafts, hehe. i've been working on this since forever. behold, thirteen of my obsessions. there many more, but these are my top ones :D

soundtrack: lana del rey - kinda outta luck http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Op8wBw4xY6k
 

Lalala, this is my birthday set from me to myself, hahaha. No, that is really just a lame excuse for me to publish a set, because I really miss it. So, voila! A set that has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and that needed to see the light of day! I am now 20 years old and as much of a kid as ever. Some things never change, I guess.
 

Anyway, it's 1 A.M. and I really should be studying for the final I have tomorrow, but instead, I'm here, writing this. Procrastination is a form of art. Seriously.
 

I love you, I miss you, I'll be seeing you!
 

xoxo,
dee.

this set is so old and ugly, my god. it was an old set for mmn, but it went wrong and it's been in my drafts ever since.
 

oh, and follow me on tumblr :) : http://thecigarettestainedlies.tumblr.com/
 

 
HI, IT'S DIANA.
 

A - AVAILABLE: yup. not particularly pleased about it.
B – BIRTHDAY: the 18th of january
C - CRUSHING ON: hahahaha, are you kidding me? http://www.polyvore.com/my_extravagantly_long_list_lovers/set?id=39504251
D - DRINK YOU LAST HAD: coke
E - EASIEST PERSON TO TALK TO: my best friend
F - FAVORITE SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ
G - GUMMY BEARS OR GUMMY WORMS: i will eat anything gummy
H – HOMETOWN: Iasi, Romania.
I - IN LOVE WITH ANYONE: hmpf. probably, but i'm currently in denial, and i would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.
K - KILLED SOMEONE: YOU WILL NEVER FIND THE BODY!!!
L - LONGEST CAR RIDE: probably about 10 hours.
M - MILKSHAKE FLAVOR: i hate dairy and milky stuff.
N - NUMBER OF SIBLINGS: 1
O - ONE WISH: ME + JOHNNY DEPP = SEX
P - PERSON THAT CALLED YOU LAST: my other best friend
R - REASON TO SMILE: no such thing when you've only had 4 hours of sleep. on any other day, my friends.
S - SONG YOU LAST SANG: Kings of Leon - Mi amigo
T - TIME YOU WOKE UP: about 12, i think.
U - UNDERWEAR COLOR: black, so i can match alex :D (@vampire-weakend)
V – VEGETABLE: carrots!!!!
W - WORST HABIT: drinking massive amounts of coca cola. and coffee
X - X-RAYS YOU'VE HAD: teeth.
Y - YEARS LIVING WHERE YOU LIVE: on the 18th of january it will have been 20 years. :D
Z - ZODIAC SIGN: capricorn

RANDOM QUESTIONS!!! Spell your name without vowels: dn
What color do you wear most?: black, i guess. mom keeps bugging me to wear more colors.
Least favorite colors?: orange makes me mad.
What are you listening to? err...lorelai gilmore talking, haha. i'm watching gilmore girls right now.
What is your favorite class in school?: american literature
Are you outgoing?: uh, sometimes?
Favorite pair of shoes?: my brown leather wedge sandals.
Can you dance?: uh, no. BUT THAT NEVER STOPPED ME BEFORE!
Can you tie a cherry stem with your mouth?: in all probability, no.
Can you whistle?: NO! TEACH ME.
Cross your eyes?: i'm typing this with my eyes crossed.
Walk with your toes curled?: *demonstrating walking with curled toes*
 
THE DO'S
Do you believe there is life on other planets?: i think yes.
Do you believe in miracles?: um, no. not really.
Do you believe in magic?: no.
Love at first sight?: that's ridiculous.
Do you believe in Santa?: YES, I DO.WHY, DON'T YOU?
Do you like roller coasters?: scared of heights, so no.
Have you ever been on a plane?: no.
Have you ever asked someone out?: um, kind of.
Have you ever been asked out by someone?: yes.
have you ever been to the ocean?: no.
Have you almost drowned in the ocean?: yes, i did it at home, in my room.
What is the temperature outside?: COLD.
What radio station do you listen to?: i hate the radio.
What was the last thing you bought?: pff. i ordered a laptop online?
What was the last thing on TV you watched?: probably news.
Who was the last person you took a picture of?: my cat.
Ever really cried your heart out?: oh, yes.
Ever cried on your friend's shoulder?: yes.
Ever cried over the opposite sex?: don't we all?
Do you cry when you get an injury?: well, it depends on the injury.
Do songs make you cry?: do you want me to give you my list?
Are you a happy person?: i used to be.
What is your current hair color?: light brown
What are you wearing?: burgundy top and jeans.
Bracelets?: two black leather ones.
Your eye color?: brown.
Short or long hair?: way too long.
Height?: hmm...5'4 - 5'5 ft?
 
WHAT TO DO:
Fill out these questions and make a new Set. Take this survey and repost it! Don't forget to tag me because I want to know more about you!
 

 
i'm tagging @young-and-free , @munarina , @blitz-krieg , @art-fashion-me , @b-a-r-b-a-r-a , @followyourbliss , @government-hooker and that's about it. the tag said twenty people, but come on!
 

please tag me back if you do it! i want to know more about you girls!
 

also, mmn girls, @little-red , @emgeemtee , @laurcams94 , @lalasparkles , @cestlula , @lemonade-lagoon , @oh-jayne , @mclovinn , @this-moment-is-stardust , @the-wild-things , @lovelygabriella , i saw alex tagged you, so if you do the tag, feel free to tag me, because i'm interested in knowing more about you :)

soundtrack: offspring - disclaimer
 

 
Hey there, kids. So, this is to inform you that I shall leave this account for roleplaying only. I have an older account from which I wiped everything out, all the sets and stuff, and changed the username, so the URL for my new account (well, old, actually) is thewicked.polyvore.com. On this account I'll probably do more blog thingies or something of the sort, because sometimes I have things i need to say, but I don't really feel like I should put them up here, on this account. Ugh, i don't even know. it's there, add it if you haven't already, and we'll see how it goes. Basically, I just wanted to tell you gals that it's still me, so you know who's stalking you, 'kay?
 

 
Good.
 

 

love you all, girlies,
 
deedee <3

lexi, mmn.
 

 
soundtrack: scanners - salvation <= ADORE this song. love love love.
 

 

 
december, the 9th.
 

 

I slooooowly creaked the door and snuck into Art class,
as quietly as humanly possible.
 

 

 
But the Bulldog learned my smell.
 

 

"Miss Montgomery."
 

In a split second, she turned around to face me and I froze, in utter terror.
"You're late, once again.", she barked.
 

 
I know, I am so sorry, really, I am, I promise that it won't-"
 

 
"...happen again.", she took the words out of my mouth.
"Yes, unfortunately, we've heard this little speech before. Isn't that right, class?", she turned towards the rest of the room.
 

 

A couple of faint answers were heard,
and another nodded imperceptibly.
 

 
Effie was in a back row, having a fit.
 

 
I frowned.
 

 
The Bulldog eyed me carefully.
A warning glance.
 

 
But I wasn't going to let her smell my fear.
I rose my chin and smiled.
 

 
"I'm sorry."
 

 
"You may take a seat now", she muttered, with a short movement of the head.
 

 
I made my way to the back row and took a seat beside Effie, who was still not done laughing.
 

 
"Every. Fucking. Time!", she barely got out.
 

 
"You were supposed to wake me up!", I hissed, smacking her arm.
"And who was that girl who was passed out on our living room floor?", I questioned.
 

 

"Oh, that's just Cam.", she shrugged.
"She got high last night."
 

 
I stared at her.
 

 
"Cam? Cameron DiVello Cam? /She's/ the one passed out on our floor?!", my mouth hung open.
"I nearly tripped over her body on my way out! I swear she wasn't even breathing, I thought she was dead!", I almost shouted, but remembered where we were.
 

 
"Oh god, no.", she laughed.
"That's just the normal state for someone who isn't used to smoking weed. She'll grow accustomed to it."
 

She twirled a strand of golden hair and blew out a pink bubble of chewing gum.
Like she didn't have a care in the world.
Then again, she really didn't.
 

"You're giving her /weed/? Effie!", I scolded.
 

"Mom, /please/!", she giggled.
"You're embarrassing me."
 

 
I frowned.
 

 
"Laugh all you want, but when she dies of something horrible, I am /so/ not helping you hide the body. And it's not like no one will notice that she's missing, I mean, she's freaking Cameron DiVello!", I pointed out.
 

 
She just rolled her eyes.
 

"Chill, babe. Everything's going to be fine.", she patted my thigh.
"Now, let's finish with the old hag and then go out for coffee, 'kay? I'm feeling like latte.", she grinned.
 

 
I gave her a look.
 

 
"Fine.", I gave in.
"But you're paying for my drink for nearly scaring me to death."
 

 
"Deal.", she laughed.
 

 

 

 
december, the 15th.
 

 

Winter break was getting nearer, but things were by no means getting easier.
I still had trucks of homework to do, assignments to hand in,
books to read, and pictures to draw, all meant
to make me smarter.
 

Thing is, it actually had the reverse effect.
 
College was breaking my spirit;
I mean, every day telling me stuff I didn't know?
It made me feel like a fucking idiot.
 

 
And that's how I felt right now, running to my English Lit. class,
about fifteen different books in hand,
none of which I'd read.
 

 
I opened the door and a knot formed in my throat in anticipation of the lecture I was going to receive for my perpetual tardiness.
But the professor hadn't even arrived yet.
 

 
That was weird,
he's also so irritatingly punctual.
 

 
The class was buzzing, I noticed.
Everyone was talking.
 

 
About what?
I was officially out of the loop,
I bet there was some major piece of gossip that I hadn't heard,
because I'd been buried beneath books, and canvases, and colors and coffee.
 

 
I approached a group of girls.
 

"Hey, what's going on?", I smiled.
"What's everyone talking about? And what happened to old Donald, why hasn't he shown up yet?"
 

We called the Lit teacher Donald, after Donald Duck, 'cause of his beak-like mouth.
Childish, I know. Don't ask. We have so little entertainment during classes.
 

 
They all stared at me like I was some sort of idiot.
 
Uh-oh. What'd I miss?
 

 
"Have you not heard the news?", short, ugly one narrowed her green eyes.
 

 
"What? No. What happened?", I decided to ignore her bitchy tone, because I was genuinely interested in the gossip.
 

"Old Donald is in the hospital. Heart attack.", a curly-haired one jumped in.
"They think he might die."
 

 
"Oh my god!", I clasped a hand over my mouth.
 

Poor Donald.
I know he was slow and that he smelled kind of weird, but I'd gotten used to him.
Such a shame.
 

"But the /big/ issue here is his replacement.", the first one spoke again.
"I hope he's young."
 

"I hope he's hot.", another one swooned.
 

The three of them giggled like stupid ducks.
I rolled my eyes.
 

 
The idiocracy, my god.
To think about your professor in terms of how hot he is. Aren't we here to learn, to become better people, aren't we here to-
 

"Good afternoon, class.", a voice came from behind me.
 

Oh wow. This new professor has such a soft voice.
I shot a quick look at the girls and noticed that they were all staring, completely mesmerized.
 

I don't think they were even breathing.
They just stared, with glazed eyes, as if in a trance.
 

I furrowed my brows.
What the-
 

"Miss, will you please take a seat, so I can start my class?", the voice spoke again, in even deeper, softer tones.
 

I could sense a bit of huskiness underneath it all.
Wait - is he talking to me?
 

"The blonde girl with the shiny pants, will you /please/ take a seat?", he repeated.
 

Yep, he's talking about me.
I rolled my eyes.
 

I finally turned around to face the guy,
with my best bittch face in place.
 

 

Only I dropped it immediately after.
 

 

He had the strangest expression on his face,
like someone had punched him in the stomach.
 

 
It took me a while to remember the whole thing,
but it was him, wasn't it?
 

 
Same dark hair, same intense gaze,
same perfect, scruffy chin.
It was Damien.
 

Damien, who saw me covered in vomit.
Damien, who helped me get up from the ground.
Damien, who I suppose got me home safely, although I have no recollection of that fact.
 

 

 

Fuck.
Yes, I do.
 

 

I felt sick.
 

*flashback*
 

We was walking me home, his arm around me, to keep me steady on my feet.
Not a romantic instance, considering my advanced state of inebriation, but still.
Couldn't say that I hated it.
 

 
But what did I do then? Yes, that's right, I ruined everything, like the idiot I am.
 

"Eddie would be so disappointed in me right now.", I whined.
 

"I'm sure that's not true.", he said, politely.
 

There was a small pause in his voice.
 

"Is Eddie your boyfriend?"
 

"Ugh. No.", I pouted.
"I don't know. It's complicated. I was horrible to him, I was so horrible, you know? The things I said, and what I did, oh my god, I was so horrible."
 

I suddenly stopped walking, and covered my face,
so he couldn't see that I'd started sobbing.
 

He was a dear and tried to comfort me in the best way he could,
while I bitched and moaned about Eddie and about a couple of other guys,
and basically told him the sad, pathetic story of my life, even though he was far from interested.
 

Great.
Another superb image of the dazzling creature that is Lexi Montgomery,
in case drunk and disgusting wasn't enough.
 

I had to add rambling and sobbing to the list, too.
Does the humiliation ever end?
 

 

 

 

 

He regained his composure and repeated his request that I take a seat.
I conformed without a word.
 

This cannot be happening.
He is a professor.
 

 

 

He's a professor?
But he said- ...he said he was majoring in English, didn't he? He lied to me.
 

He fucking lied to me,
and now my teacher knows my inner most secrets.
 

Wow, Lexi, good going.
 

He's a professor.
He's a professor.
 

Okay, I need a moment to wrap my head around this.
 

 

 

Oh my god, he's a professor.
 

I let my head fall on the desk.
This is my worst nightmare.

 
He saw me in a state of utter disgrace,
he knows stuff about me,
and he was in my house.
 

 
For the love of god.
This is not happening.
 

 

The class went by painfully, excruciatingly slow.
I avoided all eye-contact,
and kept my nose safely buried in my book.
 

I was suddenly very interested in the life of Voltaire's scrivener.
 

 
I lie.
I did peek once in a while, because, come on, I /had/ to look.
I mean, this was all so surreal. And besides, I had to see if he was looking, too, right?
 

He was, in case you wondered.
Staring hard, that is.
 

He invited us to read a passage from a book,
and I took the opportunity to stare at him at ease,
while the others were obliviously engrossed in their reading.
 

He turned around to write down some facts on the black board, and I allowed myself to indulge in carefully studying his posture, the strong outline of his back, the broad shape of his shoulders, and asses the strength of the arms that had been around me just a few nights before.
 

 
It felt sneaky and wrong,
and I took delight in every prohibited second
that I admired the exquisite physical form of my teacher.
 

I knew I that what I was doing was immoral,
but I couldn't help it if every time his eyes met mine, my stomach did flips.
 

A kind of delicious fever invaded my being,
I felt my whole body grow hotter by the second,
and there was definitely electricity in my fingertips.
 

I couldn't name it or put my finger on it, but I knew that I had never felt it before.
Not like this. It was new and exciting and different from anything else,
and I was experiencing it for the first time.
 

 
A couple of minutes ago,
I had looked down on those silly girls who dreamed of a hot teacher,
and now he had sparked my imagination and was in my inappropriate thoughts.
 

Talk about hypocrisy.
 

 

As the class ended and I snapped out of my reverie,
I tried to make myself scarce as soon as possible.
 

Unfortunately, Professor Cohen had other plans.
 

 
"Um, Miss Montgomery?", he called after me, just as I was walking out the door, to safety.
 

 
So close.
 

 
"Yes?", I turned around with an innocent stare and did a mini hair-flip, for good measure.
 

 
"I need to talk to you about...uh, your lack of indiscipline at the beginning of class.", he put on a harsh voice and an unfriendly face, as other students were passing by, towards the exit.
 

 
"Oh.", I said, catching on.
 

 
"Walk with me to my office, Lex- Miss Montgomery.", he took his brief case and I followed him out of the auditorium.
 

"Hi.", he smiled, as soon as we were out.
 

I breathed out a sigh of relief.
 

"Hi.", I smiled back.
"You kind of scared me with that professor voice back there.", I joked.
 

 
"I'm sorry, you understand, the situation is...err, unusual."
 

 
"Yeah...tell me about it.", I gave him a tight smile.
"So...you're a teacher. Guess that's what you meant by English major."
 

 
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. You wouldn't take no for an answer.", he looked at me, amused.
 

I blushed, feeling incredibly embarrassed.
 

"That's ok.", I said.
 

"So, how's your cat?", he asked, playfully.
 

"My what?", I stopped and stared at him.
 

He started laughing.
 

"Never mind. I'll tell you about it some other time. Right now I have a seminar to get to. But...see you around, I guess? I hope?", he smiled.
 

 
Oh god.
The tiny wrinkles his eyes make when he smiles.
 

 
I melted in place.
 

 
"Um, yeah. Definitely.", I nodded.
"See ya, Professor Cohen."
 

 

 

In my dirty dreams.
 

 
- xo, Lexi.