"Oh my- underwear!" Jamie yelled, hands flying over to shield her eyes.
Jamie had been under the impression she was one out of a handful of students left on campus, and at a place as big as Painswick it was like being virtually alone. Never did she think her solitary paradise would be disrupted by a nearly naked co-ed.
Unluckily for Bradley, Jamie wasn't a run of the mill pretty girl. Her life purpose-- Quidditch --left her completely immune to boyish charm, or even fun for that matter.
She shot glare at him from between her fingers, and then drew them together over her eyes again, "Because you're naked! Isn't public nudity a crime of some sort?"
She should've gave him some sort of menacing look, spun on her heals, walked down the hall, and left. But Jamie just stood there, thrown off guard by his brazen behavior.
"Jamie," she said, lifting her hand for him to shake. When she realized how awkward it would be to shake hands with a mostly nude man in a dorm, Jamie dropped her arm to her side, mooting the greeting, "Jamie Belanger."
Bradley realized that her name sounded familiar. "I think I've written about you. In the paper," he clarified, furrowing his brow. "Quidditch star Jamie Belanger?" He hadn't seen her up close really, just from a distance in the stands.
I think I've written about you. In the paper. A journalist. Jamie's father had always told her beware reporters of any kind. Even the smallest blemish on an otherwise spottless career could spell disaster, and bad press could leave an awfully large blemish. She nearly frowned, but managed to keep her cool and practiced expression.
"I'm not a star," she sat, almost automatically. 'Star' was a term she heard a lot, having been an international pick to play for Painswick, but Jamie was not a star. Stars were simply born as bright as they would stay forever. Hard work had gotten Jamie to where she was, and she intended to make her career burn much brighter after school, "but yes," she folded her arms over her chest, blue eyes trained on Bradley's, "I'm Jamie."
She remained in her arms-crossed stance, leaning backward with one foot, and lips set into a tight line on her face.
"Reverse the order," Jamie told him firmly, "Then, I'll come in."
She normally would've laughed and went back to the Quidditch house, but-- call it a Christmas miracle --Jamie was starting to feel a little lonely, walking around the grounds by herself. Maybe a conversation-- even one as straightforward and disjointed as Jamie's usually were --might've been nice.
I"Alright, hold on," he smirked half closing the door and throwing on a nice enough pair of slacks. "I'm decent now," he mumbled, fighting his way through his shirt.
He cleared his desk chair to make room for her, and sat on his bed. "Nah, why would I? I'm mostly a stats reporter right now anyway. Nothing too big. They barely let me out of the office with a lead. I'm just a sophomore."
Nothing but good stats from me, she thought to herself, lip twitching upward.
"Hopefully our stats are better this year," she muttered, glancing down to pick at her perfectly filed down nails, "I didn't come all the way from Canada to play for a decent team."
"Canada, eh?" he asked, genuinely intrigued, "I thought you had an accent of sorts. They recruited you all the way from out there? How many teams do they have from where you're from?"
Jamie shrugged, crossing the room to lean against the wall closest to his window. She glanced outside at the snow covered grounds. It reminded her of home.
"Not so many," she said, watching as a little bird made tracks in the snow. Her lip twitched upward into something close to a smile, "Not as many as here. We've junior leagues, one per province. Then a national league--"
She gave two thumbs up, pointing at herself.
"--and you're looking at the youngest Canadian to make it. Got that spot after shattering a beater bat at a recruiter game. You can only go so far in Canada, though-- so they asked me to come here."
He gave a lopsided smile, amused at her confidence. "Your beater skills are definitely ones to be sought after. I remember comparing your numbers to the other teams. You've got the competition beat."
Jamie had been under the impression she was one out of a handful of students left on campus, and at a place as big as Painswick it was like being virtually alone. Never did she think her solitary paradise would be disrupted by a nearly naked co-ed.
"What the hell are you doing!"
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"Can't a bloke take a shower?" he drawled with a smile. "Why the bloody hell are you screaming?"
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She shot glare at him from between her fingers, and then drew them together over her eyes again, "Because you're naked! Isn't public nudity a crime of some sort?"
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It still had the potential for being fun, but the unlikelihood was becoming more and more apparent.
"And second off, if you're going to stand there all disgusted you may as well tell me your name. I'll start... Hi, I'm Bradley Cooper."
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She should've gave him some sort of menacing look, spun on her heals, walked down the hall, and left. But Jamie just stood there, thrown off guard by his brazen behavior.
"Jamie," she said, lifting her hand for him to shake. When she realized how awkward it would be to shake hands with a mostly nude man in a dorm, Jamie dropped her arm to her side, mooting the greeting, "Jamie Belanger."
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Bradley realized that her name sounded familiar. "I think I've written about you. In the paper," he clarified, furrowing his brow. "Quidditch star Jamie Belanger?" He hadn't seen her up close really, just from a distance in the stands.
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"I'm not a star," she sat, almost automatically. 'Star' was a term she heard a lot, having been an international pick to play for Painswick, but Jamie was not a star. Stars were simply born as bright as they would stay forever. Hard work had gotten Jamie to where she was, and she intended to make her career burn much brighter after school, "but yes," she folded her arms over her chest, blue eyes trained on Bradley's, "I'm Jamie."
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"Well, nice to meet you Jamie. What are you still doing here on Christmas?"
Bradley opened his door, "You can come in, I'm just throwing on trousers."
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"Reverse the order," Jamie told him firmly, "Then, I'll come in."
She normally would've laughed and went back to the Quidditch house, but-- call it a Christmas miracle --Jamie was starting to feel a little lonely, walking around the grounds by herself. Maybe a conversation-- even one as straightforward and disjointed as Jamie's usually were --might've been nice.
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"So this is where an aspiring reporter comes to sleep?" She said, eyes taking in her surroundings, "Write anything nasty about me in this room?"
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He cleared his desk chair to make room for her, and sat on his bed. "Nah, why would I? I'm mostly a stats reporter right now anyway. Nothing too big. They barely let me out of the office with a lead. I'm just a sophomore."
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"Hopefully our stats are better this year," she muttered, glancing down to pick at her perfectly filed down nails, "I didn't come all the way from Canada to play for a decent team."
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"Not so many," she said, watching as a little bird made tracks in the snow. Her lip twitched upward into something close to a smile, "Not as many as here. We've junior leagues, one per province. Then a national league--"
She gave two thumbs up, pointing at herself.
"--and you're looking at the youngest Canadian to make it. Got that spot after shattering a beater bat at a recruiter game. You can only go so far in Canada, though-- so they asked me to come here."
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