Chapter Text
Its days like these that make you consider a career as a serial killer.
Of course, your logical side reasons with you that there is no money in that job field.
But it doesn’t hurt to dream.
After that thought, you slam the door to your apartment with such a violent force that you’re almost positive a neighbor will call 911 for domestic abuse, a gunshot, or a robbery. Or some shit like that. You’ve never cared.
You fling your keys and phone on your couch, soon following them as you collapse on the cushions. Today sucked. Which you would argue is actually the understatement of the year. First, you were thirty minutes late to work - which is actually early for you - but your boss saw you come in for once and yelled at you in his office. Then, you got a speeding ticket while on your motorcycle, which means you’ll be expecting a phone call next week from your mother who just happens to know every cop in this God-forsaken town about how you’re ‘ruining the family name’. Finally, you forgot to bring money to buy the books for school – which starts tomorrow morning, not like you’ve been dreading this all summer- and had to call your brother, who will never let you forget that you now owe him a favor.
After dealing with that last embarrassing fiasco, you need something to make this day end on a brighter note that somehow doesn’t involve packing up and getting on the next bus out of here.
An idea hits you and you grab your phone. After you’ve unlocked it, you pull up that app that - according to your brother - is ‘all the rage’.
Tinder.
You smirk at the number of messages you’ve got since last time you checked the phone but you can’t bother yourself with reading any of them.
You want someone fresh.
Left. Left.
Something quick.
Left.
Someone… Cute.
And this girl seems to fit the bill.
A woman with long blonde hair and brown eyes wearing a cupcake shirt. She’s got a toothy smile that you can’t help but admire and makes you wonder what made her laugh. Hey, you have a soft side too. Her picture looks like it was candidly taken – which you applaud her for choosing a good image unlike the other women on this app – but it also signals one prominent trait.
Innocence.
You swipe right on her before continuing your own personal Judgement Day on the other users. It takes a few swipes to the left before a message pops up from the girl from before. You make a mental note of her name but then realize you could care less and open the message.
“Hello!!”
You can’t decide if you are impressed that she’s brave enough to initiate the chat so quickly or annoyed at her enthusiasm and overuse of punctuation, but you decide to play nice and reply back.
“Hey there Cupcake.”
“What’s up?
Sorry. That sounds lame. =\
How are you?
Nope, let me try again. =[
Hows it hangin?”
You decide amusement is the emotion you’re looking for as you read her messages. After you see she’s done typing, for the time being anyway, you smile. Innocent is the perfect word to describe her.
“Let me guess. Your first time using Tinder?”
“That obvious? D:”
“Definitely. Drinks, tonight at 9 at Bloody Marys. See you there.”
“Oh, okay!! I’ll see you then!”
That was easy. After plugging your phone in to charge, you decide to take a shower. After all, you gotta look your best tonight if you want to seal the deal.
You’re late, of course. About ten minutes late, if you bothered to check your phone. She’s sitting at the bar, playing with the little umbrella that came with her drink, when you walk in. You watch her check her phone before taking a sip of the lime green beverage. It’s that moment when you realize you have control of this situation and head over to her to get the night started.
She looks up at you when you take the seat next to her. The bartender slides a scotch your way and winks before walking to another bar goer.
Sometimes it pays to be a regular.
The drink is gone almost as fast as it was poured and you push the glass forward as you turn towards your potential hookup. She’s staring at you with wide, brown eyes and you realize you’re actually sitting higher than her. Are you taller than her? You try to remember how old she was on her profile but it’s too late now and you just decide to go with the flow and play things out. After all, she has to be at least 21 if she’s sitting at the bar.
You get your first good look at her and realize that she is actually gorgeous. In a cute way, of course. Her hair isn’t exactly blonde but it’s not brown either and if you had to compare it to just one color, you’d pick hazelnut.
And your mother said your art degree would be useless.
You grab the freshly refilled drink that the bartender just left you and drink that one just as fast as the first. This time, you catch yourself scrunching your face up from the burn of the alcohol.
“You know, there are better tasting ways to get drunk.”
“I’d rather have a drink that gets me there quick.”
The woman smiles and nods towards her own drink “Slow and steady does win the race though. I’m Laura.”
“Carmilla.” You reply, sliding your empty glass away from the two of you. You watch her fiddle with the umbrella again. She’s nervous. She must not be used to the world of online hookups. It’s almost painful how innocent she is. You know you’re going to love shattering that innocence.
“Listen. We both know what Tinder is used for.” You watch her carefully, wondering if she’ll back out like the last girl did. She takes a breath and looks to you and suddenly it seems like a whole new person is sitting there. She reaches towards you - catching you by surprise - and brushes some of your dark hair back behind your ear. You find yourself shivering slightly at her touch – something that you can’t recall that you’ve ever done. “So, what do you say we pay our tabs and head to my place?” Her hand slides down your arm, resting on your forearm.
Okay. Maybe not so innocent.
The sudden burst of confidence throws you off guard. You blink a few times before collecting yourself. Two can play this game.
“That’s the plan, Creampuff,” You lean towards her with lidded eyes, opening your mouth just a bit to take a breath. She closes her eyes for a kiss but you brush past her cheek. “Leave my friend here a good tip and I’ll make it worth your while.” You say as you pull a twenty from your back pocket and place it on the bar. You pull back and mentally celebrate as she flushes red, stammering to herself. You turn towards the door and walk out, not bothering to look behind you.
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She unlocks the door and you find yourself slamming an apartment door for the second time that night. This time though, it’s not out of frustration.
Well, sexual frustration maybe.
You drop your keys and reach for her, clumsily grabbing her shoulders. She grips the collar of your leather jacket as you kiss her, pulling you towards her but pushing you back against the door.
It’s clumsy at first, since it seems that both of you want to take charge. You can’t tell if this is her normal behavior because every now and then she slips into a more submissive role before remembering what she’s doing.
Your hands start to roam as the kissing intensifies. You feel her press against you harder, slipping a thigh between your legs and break the kiss off, only to hear a rough “Bedroom” come from her before she finds your lips again.
You’ve never needed anyone to repeat that before.
She leads you to the room while you both stay connected on the mouth. You’re pulling her jacket off and she’s pulling yours off. Mutual disrobing, if you will.
Something catches you behind your knees and the two of you fall back on something soft – her bed it seems – and she straddles you. And while your emotions have been building the past five minutes, she pauses. Its several moments before you realize that the confidence is actually just an act, and that you’ll have to take charge of the situation. You reach up and pull her down towards you, rolling over each other so you’re straddling her now.
She’s surprised but you can see the hint of relief in her face as you lock lips with her one more, exploring each other again. She’s keeping up with you and doesn’t seem labored – always a good sign – and you hope she lasts longer than your previous one-night stand, Elise or something.
Only one way to find out.
You pull away and look her in the eyes, waiting for a sign. She nods and now all you can think about are the ways she’ll scream your name tonight. Without any more hesitation, you start kissing anywhere but her mouth, eager to get the night started.
But the last thought to leave your mind is to make a mental note to truly thank your brother for introducing you to this app. You love reaping the benefits but this one has potential to be the best.
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It was the best you’ve had. Hands down.
You left last night after you both finished – several times, you add - unable to wipe the smile off your face. You find yourself contemplating keeping her on speed dial. Even if all you know about her is that her name is Lauren or something and that she seems kind of nerdy.
It’s past one in the morning when you get back to your apartment. And while being an adult and hooking up with a stranger was fun, you do need sleep. Especially since you begin your senior year in the morning.
You decide to go to bed, falling on your mattress as soon as you enter your own bedroom. Her toothy smile is the last thing you think about before you pass out.
Nine hours later, you decide to get out of bed and go to your first class of the semester. One that you aren’t too excited for since it’s just a filler course. It takes about twenty minutes for you to actually get dressed, even though almost all you own is ripped jeans, boots, tank tops, and flannel. Not much variety.
No surprise here, but you show up late to class. It’s in a lecture hall, so you can slip in the back door and grab a seat in the bac– Crap. There are no seats in the back row. There seems to be no seats anywhere, actually. People are starting to look up at you, watching with amusement where you’ll sit when you spot a seat in the front of the classroom. You debate on pushing one of the underclassmen out of your ideal seat when a voice stills you. A voice you’ve heard recently and never thought you’d hear in a school setting.
“Let’s hope being late isn’t a habit of yours, Ms. Karnstein. Please take a seat so we can get started.”
It’s Creampuff.
No. That’s not right. You look down at your schedule.
Professor Laura Hollis – Intro to Virtual Journalism and Media – Room 136
It’s then that you realize that you just had a one night stand with your professor.