College!AU: Part 2
For those of you who follow this journal and armartello, I apologize for the double-posting. This is the LJ that Mitchel uses to RP; I felt it was only appropriate that he posts his POV piece here, just like Savin did when he started off Part One on his journal. Feel free to skip because it's super inane. xD
Mitchel sat down at the table, adjusting his sunglasses so that they sat on top of his head. He had decked himself out, this time. His black jacket and black t-shirt were on point, highlighting his best features.
Calla should be here soon, he thought to himself, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He wondered how she would be dressed today -- and whether tonight would finally be the night. He had been planning these dates out for weeks; each one he had gotten further with her than the last.
When she walked into the dimly lit restaurant, Mitchel waved to her, putting on his best smile. “Glad you could make it,” he said as she approached their table. He tried to keep his eyes off the swing of her hips; off the way her blouse’s neckline dipped low. He wasn’t crass like Savin; he could keep his eyes above a woman’s neckline.
Except she didn’t smile back at him; her dark eyes flashing and her lips tightly pressed together. “Everything alright?” he asked, leaning back in his seat and putting on his best concerned expression. He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, talk to me about it. I’d love to listen.”
Calla didn’t sit. She didn’t even glance at the proffered seat beside her as she folded her arms over her chest and cocked her hip to the side. “How long d’you think you can keep that act up, sug? I ain’t got all day.”
The smile fell from Mitchel’s face. “What act?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Don’t play innocent with me,” Calla said. “Your new roomie ratted you out on LJ. You really think --”
“Devin?” Mitchel asked, interrupting her. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Your little competition with Savin?” Calla said, raising an eyebrow. “Or did you think I weren’t gonna find out ‘bout that? How you been takin’ me out and butterin’ me up just so’s you can sleep with me and then dump me.” She leaned over the table, her face inches from Mitchel’s and her eyes ablaze. “Well, I got news for you, sweetheart. You can just kiss that little dream of yours goodbye -- and I’m gonna tell the whole school what kind of ass you are, so’s no other girl’ll sleep with you, neither.”
She backed away from him, just in time for their waiter to come back to their table, glasses of water in hand. Calla, before Mitchel could even react, grabbed both cups and dumped them over his head. Ice-cold water soaked him to the bone, his mouth falling open in surprise as Calla sauntered out of the restaurant without another word.
The waiter said something -- something Mitchel didn’t acknowledge as he pushed himself out of the seat and headed towards the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment.
He was never going to hear the end of this.
***
When Mitchel returned to his dorm room, he was relieved to see that the signal wasn’t present on the door. Sighing, he steeled himself as he went to push open the door. Hopefully Savin was actually at class. Then maybe he would be spared having to explain why his clothes were still wet, and why he was coming home so soon from his date without Calla on his arm.
Except when the door opened all the way, it revealed Savin at his desk, lips twisted as he concentrated on the laptop screen in front of him. For a minute, Mitchel thought that maybe, he could get past Savin and walk into their shared bathroom with Wes and Jazz and change before --
“I take it your date with Calla did not go well,” Savin snickered, turning to glance at Mitchel. The half-smile on his face grew into a full-blown grin at the sight of Mitchel, his hair still damp and shirt clinging to him. “It definitely did not go well.”
“Shut up, Bates,” Mitchel muttered, rolling his jacket off his shoulders and hanging it over his own computer chair. He tried not to focus on just how cramped their already small dorm room felt with a third bed and third dresser crammed into the only open spaces that had existed before. At least Devin wasn’t there, as well? “Have you seen Renton? I need to have words with him.”
“‘Renton’?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. Mitchel gestured to the third bed. “Oh, you mean Devin. No, he’s at class.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “Also -- ‘I need to have words with him?’ Seriously, Foraker? Stop trying to sound like a goddamn gangster from the seventies. You’re twenty, for Christ’s sake. Act like it.”
Mitchel crossed his arms over his chest. “I refuse to bring myself down to your level,” he muttered. He threw his shoulders back and placed his hands on his hips. “My maturity level is beyond that for my age.”
Savin snorted, pushing himself up from his desk and shaking his head. He gave Mitchel a knowing look, the amusement dropping from his face as concern flashed across it, instead. “Look, I know you actually really liked her, so -- if you need to talk...”
Mitchel blinked, then shook his head. “She was just a conquest, Bates,” he said, shrugging out of his soaked shirt. He looked for a place to hang it, unable to locate such a place right away. “I have no need to talk about it -- but thank you for the offer.”
Savin nodded, his eyes drifting down the length of Mitchel’s torso for a minute before he settled back into his computer chair. “What’d Devin do, anyway?” he asked, bringing up livejournal before Mitchel could answer.
“Apparently, he mentioned our little ‘contest’ where Calla could -- speak of the Devil,” Mitchel interrupted himself as he heard their dorm room door open. He turned on his heel, narrowing his eyes as Devin stepped inside the room, bookbag slung over a single shoulder. “Hey, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about --”
“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” Devin said, pushing past Mitchel and throwing his bookbag down on his bed. “Got somewhere to be in an hour -- gotta get ready.”
Savin raised an eyebrow. “Where’re you going? Got a date already or --”
Mitchel watched as Devin’s face turned scarlet. “Yeah, actually,” he squeaked, swinging open the bathroom door and locking it behind him.
Savin and Mitchel just exchanged a look, Savin’s eyebrows hidden by his all-too-long hair. He then grinned at Mitchel, all even and gleaming teeth. “He’s been here less than three days and he’s already got a date. What’s your excuse, Foraker?” he teased.
Mitchel didn’t hesitate; he threw his wet shirt into Savin’s all too smug looking face.
Mitchel sat down at the table, adjusting his sunglasses so that they sat on top of his head. He had decked himself out, this time. His black jacket and black t-shirt were on point, highlighting his best features.
Calla should be here soon, he thought to himself, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He wondered how she would be dressed today -- and whether tonight would finally be the night. He had been planning these dates out for weeks; each one he had gotten further with her than the last.
When she walked into the dimly lit restaurant, Mitchel waved to her, putting on his best smile. “Glad you could make it,” he said as she approached their table. He tried to keep his eyes off the swing of her hips; off the way her blouse’s neckline dipped low. He wasn’t crass like Savin; he could keep his eyes above a woman’s neckline.
Except she didn’t smile back at him; her dark eyes flashing and her lips tightly pressed together. “Everything alright?” he asked, leaning back in his seat and putting on his best concerned expression. He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, talk to me about it. I’d love to listen.”
Calla didn’t sit. She didn’t even glance at the proffered seat beside her as she folded her arms over her chest and cocked her hip to the side. “How long d’you think you can keep that act up, sug? I ain’t got all day.”
The smile fell from Mitchel’s face. “What act?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Don’t play innocent with me,” Calla said. “Your new roomie ratted you out on LJ. You really think --”
“Devin?” Mitchel asked, interrupting her. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Your little competition with Savin?” Calla said, raising an eyebrow. “Or did you think I weren’t gonna find out ‘bout that? How you been takin’ me out and butterin’ me up just so’s you can sleep with me and then dump me.” She leaned over the table, her face inches from Mitchel’s and her eyes ablaze. “Well, I got news for you, sweetheart. You can just kiss that little dream of yours goodbye -- and I’m gonna tell the whole school what kind of ass you are, so’s no other girl’ll sleep with you, neither.”
She backed away from him, just in time for their waiter to come back to their table, glasses of water in hand. Calla, before Mitchel could even react, grabbed both cups and dumped them over his head. Ice-cold water soaked him to the bone, his mouth falling open in surprise as Calla sauntered out of the restaurant without another word.
The waiter said something -- something Mitchel didn’t acknowledge as he pushed himself out of the seat and headed towards the bathroom, his face burning with embarrassment.
He was never going to hear the end of this.
***
When Mitchel returned to his dorm room, he was relieved to see that the signal wasn’t present on the door. Sighing, he steeled himself as he went to push open the door. Hopefully Savin was actually at class. Then maybe he would be spared having to explain why his clothes were still wet, and why he was coming home so soon from his date without Calla on his arm.
Except when the door opened all the way, it revealed Savin at his desk, lips twisted as he concentrated on the laptop screen in front of him. For a minute, Mitchel thought that maybe, he could get past Savin and walk into their shared bathroom with Wes and Jazz and change before --
“I take it your date with Calla did not go well,” Savin snickered, turning to glance at Mitchel. The half-smile on his face grew into a full-blown grin at the sight of Mitchel, his hair still damp and shirt clinging to him. “It definitely did not go well.”
“Shut up, Bates,” Mitchel muttered, rolling his jacket off his shoulders and hanging it over his own computer chair. He tried not to focus on just how cramped their already small dorm room felt with a third bed and third dresser crammed into the only open spaces that had existed before. At least Devin wasn’t there, as well? “Have you seen Renton? I need to have words with him.”
“‘Renton’?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. Mitchel gestured to the third bed. “Oh, you mean Devin. No, he’s at class.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “Also -- ‘I need to have words with him?’ Seriously, Foraker? Stop trying to sound like a goddamn gangster from the seventies. You’re twenty, for Christ’s sake. Act like it.”
Mitchel crossed his arms over his chest. “I refuse to bring myself down to your level,” he muttered. He threw his shoulders back and placed his hands on his hips. “My maturity level is beyond that for my age.”
Savin snorted, pushing himself up from his desk and shaking his head. He gave Mitchel a knowing look, the amusement dropping from his face as concern flashed across it, instead. “Look, I know you actually really liked her, so -- if you need to talk...”
Mitchel blinked, then shook his head. “She was just a conquest, Bates,” he said, shrugging out of his soaked shirt. He looked for a place to hang it, unable to locate such a place right away. “I have no need to talk about it -- but thank you for the offer.”
Savin nodded, his eyes drifting down the length of Mitchel’s torso for a minute before he settled back into his computer chair. “What’d Devin do, anyway?” he asked, bringing up livejournal before Mitchel could answer.
“Apparently, he mentioned our little ‘contest’ where Calla could -- speak of the Devil,” Mitchel interrupted himself as he heard their dorm room door open. He turned on his heel, narrowing his eyes as Devin stepped inside the room, bookbag slung over a single shoulder. “Hey, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about --”
“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” Devin said, pushing past Mitchel and throwing his bookbag down on his bed. “Got somewhere to be in an hour -- gotta get ready.”
Savin raised an eyebrow. “Where’re you going? Got a date already or --”
Mitchel watched as Devin’s face turned scarlet. “Yeah, actually,” he squeaked, swinging open the bathroom door and locking it behind him.
Savin and Mitchel just exchanged a look, Savin’s eyebrows hidden by his all-too-long hair. He then grinned at Mitchel, all even and gleaming teeth. “He’s been here less than three days and he’s already got a date. What’s your excuse, Foraker?” he teased.
Mitchel didn’t hesitate; he threw his wet shirt into Savin’s all too smug looking face.