All These Things That I've Done.[porter]

[steph2]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] This was it. Her muscles tensed as the large wave approached in the moonlight and she braced herself as she climbed it, her lithe and tiny body getting ready for the rush of adrenaline. She bit her lower lip as she always did when she concentrated, her long, dark hair clinging to her small back. Her surfboard was a smooth bone white so it would be easier to spot out in the ocean. She wore a nude colored bikini that hugged her slender figure and she wore no make up since it wasn't necessary. This was all part of Svetlana's nightly routine. If she wasn't practicing ballet furiously over at the university where the facility was free, she was at the beach surfing until her heart exploded in her chest. This, of course, was what she did when she wasn't on the prowl and lately, no one had sparked her interest. Everyone was boring, every guy using the same line as the last and after a while, it became almost a chore just to listen to them. That and she couldn't even live with her mother. In order for the plan to go correctly, she was going to be hired as a maid and she would seduce the forty year old man. When they were in a compromising position, her mother would walk in, surprised, and they would reap the benefits in the divorce. She'd already been with the guy for much too long. Over a year? Something had to be up. Maybe her mother couldn't find someone to replace Svetlana? After she'd been deported back to Russia, she thought her mother would find someone easily-but no one could be trusted after all. At times, she was still amazed it felt like she hadn't even left. She'd been stuck in Moscow until she was nineteen. For two years and a handful of months she was stuck living with overbearing imbeciles but right now, as she expertly rode the wave down its length, all thoughts of cold Russia and sleeping on concrete floors with nothing but candle light for warmth were so far from her mind. She was happy here, in sunny, breezy, beautiful California. As the wave came to an end, she sat on her board, starting to swim back to shore. It was time to relax a bit, look at the stars, maybe collect a few seashells if she was bored enough. Whatever. Reaching the shore, she stuck her board in the dry sand and stretched out her long limbs. Despite being only 5'5, she was all spidery legs and arms, her stomach a bit concave but nothing too drastic. It was from all the exercise she got doing ballet and surfing...among other things involving bedrooms and male counterparts. As she heard someone clear their throat, she turned to see someone sitting on the sand not too far behind her. She arched a manicured eyebrow and rolled her eyes. A guy, of course. And she would put money on the fact he'd been watching her surf or was watching her stretch. After all, they were the only two on the beach at this hour of the night when the waves actually became tall enough to be considered worth going after. During the day they were boring....just like this guy probably was. Taking a seat next to the board, she dug through her bag and produced some cheap cancerous cigarettes and a zippo, her most prized possession since it had the only sign of who her father was. The initials were A.B.V and though they could mean anything, it still gave her a sliver of hope. As she took a deep drag and blew the air out in rings, she relaxed a bit more now that she had her nicotine fixed. For a second, she wished her two chatty friends were there to keep her entertained but then she thought against it. This was more relaxing than having to be surrounded by people and having to make impressions-meeting expectations. This felt like...well...home.

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[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes blow your mind

[atrb=width,120] tag: svetlana words: 536 (bleh, short 8( ) notes: finally done! and sorry again for being a spazz and not seeing the thread xD credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] porter was going to be sick. leaning over in the leaves of some kind of beach fern, he was. the smell was as strong as the alcohol he'd drunk to get himself to this point, and it nauseated him worse. stumbling away from his accident, he stepped out into the moonlight and the salty ocean breeze hit him in the face, simultaneously cooling and refreshing him. compared to the stuffy surfside bar where he'd spent the last two hours getting hammered, the beach was downright heavenly. not that porter had minded the cheap bar; it was precisely what he'd needed to forget it all. he needed to forget charlotte and how she felt in his arms and all of those 'feelings' he'd been getting entangled in. he couldn't deal with 'feelings'. his entire life, he hadn't believed in love, and here he was with this stupid jittery feeling in his stomach everytime he thought about her falling asleep in his arms. well, the current jittery feeling he was feeling was very distinctly nausea, but if he hadn't been stone cold drunk, then he could have felt the jitters. and that was precisely why he was stone cold drunk: so he couldn't feel a damn thing. falling down on his butt in the sand, he began singing some song he imagined was a pirate song - something along the lines of "yo ho, and a bottle of rum" - and he waved the half empty bottle of rum he was holding around in the air. after about ten minutes of trying, he finally managed to drag himself to his feet, completely covered in sand but no more worse for the wear. carefully, he picked his way through the moonlit sand until he was standing nearer the shore, and he suddenly realized he was no longer alone. the sounds of the bar had drifted away into the blackness behind him, and he was met with the serenity of the ocean waves crashing on the shore and the sight of a lithe female stretching herself on the sand. for a moment, his eyes played tricks on him and he thought he was watching some siren version of charlotte luxuriating in his weakened state - that bitch - but then he realized he was imagining things. this girl was much thinner than charlotte, and maybe a bit taller?, and her hair was certainly a darker shade of brown. how he knew this, he didn't want to admit considering that would mean he'd paid far more attention to his fiancee than he pretended he did. opening his mouth to speak, he found himself choked up by his saliva which had thickened in the presence of the alcohol, and all he could do was a half-cough half-clearing of the throat that left him dizzy. putting a hand to his head, he forced himself to stand and walk over to her, lowering himself warily into the sand and offering her a smile. he recognized the girl, or at least he thought he did, but it wasn't a strong enough for him to give a crap. "want some?" he offered, holding the bottle - which had mysteriously gotten emptier - out for her inspection.

[steph2]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Nolan. Her mind immediately drifted off to him as the male seemed to randomly take a seat next to her. She didn't look at him, just out at the ocean and wondered what it would be like to spend a day at the beach with her drug dealer and current sexual fixation. He had rightfully received the label of "Sex Toy" in her book and though he wasn't the first, he was definitely the only one who kept her interested...even if she only slept with him whenever she was high. It seemed like she couldn't do much without getting high anymore unless she was surfing or dancing. If not, everything seemed to feel too real and she didn't like it. She preferred feeling numb and like she was walking in a dream. It made everything glow a certain pretty hue and like everything would be just fine and dandy. He offered her some of the rum and she looked over at him with wavering eyes. It was then that she knew who it was and she realized this had been what she'd wanted to do. Charlotte didn't want to be with him right? If he slept with one of her best friends...she'd pick Sevvie over him...right? Definitely. Svetlana was completely sure of this but she was a bit too sober to go through with it. Taking the bottle, she took a swig before handing it back to him and then reached into her bag, "Don't look," she told him firmly over her thin shoulder as she took out the little plastic bag that had the right amount of dosage. Heating it up on a spoon, she sucked it up with the syringe and then practically stabbed herself in the arm with it as quickly as she could. This was her fourth dose that day...She knew she should probably slow down but she couldn't. She found herself feeling sick every time she didn't have any in her system and then she'd think of Nolan and how wonderful and beautiful and amazing she felt whenever she was around him high. She figured she'd feel that way around anyone if she were high. It was Svetlana's logic-not the best but it worked in its own way. Her shoulders once poised now slumped a bit as her eye lids fell a bit over her dark chocolate orbs. She put everything away and looked back over at him with a sly yet surprisingly sweet grin on her face, "What are you trying to forget?" She could tell he wanted to forget something or he wouldn't be drinking the way he was. The reason she knew? She did the same to forget about her mother, getting abused by all her husbands, forcing herself to believe she was this horrible person who deserved everything handed to her-as long as it was on a silver platter with a diamond encrusted spoon. She was a fake, she knew. Deep down to her core and it was probably why she thought of Nolan so much. He wasn't fake like everything that surrounded her. His tattoos, his smile, the way he called her Princess. Fuck Nolan, she thought quietly to herself. She wouldn't get attached even if he was at her house, right now, probably eating all the damn left over food he'd ordered. All five hundred dollars worth, "Because I can help you not think about it...so you don't feel anything but ecstasy," she smirked, leaning in to him a bit and letting her shoulder brush his but she didn't kiss him. She didn't want to make the first move so she wouldn't have to feel as guilty but at the moment, she needed to touch him. She need him to touch her. She needed Nolan...no. She didn't need him. She needed Porter because he would fuck her senseless and when Sevvie went crying to Charlotte over it, she'd dump him like he deserved and her mother would realize what a horrible person Porter is and Charlotte would be happy and be able to find someone who truly cared about her and not a douche bag who sleeps with her friends...She needed Porter...yeah, that was who she needed. She needed him to mess up because she couldn't do it alone.

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[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes blow your mind

[atrb=width,120] tag: svetlana words: 695 notes: hope i didn't move too quickly! oooo drama... *cue dramatic music* credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] she need not tell him not to look because porter was too busy being relieved he still had all of the rum - whatever was left of it after some gnome had mysteriously come along and drunk about half the bottle - to himself. taking another deep swig of the liquid, he was suddenly assailed with a mental picture of charlotte, her legs and arms wrapped around him in the kitchen... and he leaned away from the girl and puked in the sand. thankfully the breeze was blowing steadily in from the ocean, the smell couldn't blow their direction, and the girl was just sitting back up with a mildly dazed look on her face as he sat upright and offered her an innocent grin. seeing her face clearly in the moonlight, now he recognized her as svetlana, one of charlotte's best friends and the president of the sheman porter haters club. his smile turned crafty - as crafty as possible considering he was having a hard time controlling the muscles in his face - and he raised his eyebrows as she moved closer to him in the sand and asked him what he was trying to forget. the question brought another mural of charlotte - pictures of her begging him and screaming his name - and he pushed them away as he felt another wave of nausea rise to threaten him. his arm slipped around svetlana's waist, and he got an idea as she confided that she could help him forget what was bothering him. she was one of charlotte's best friends, and his least favorite one at that. she was catty and bitchy and everything that he hated in a woman, but she was charlotte's friend. that was the key to the hairbrained idea that had popped into his thoroughly soused mind. the best way to get charlotte out of his mind while simultaneously making her furious would be to sleep with one of her friends. yes, this was a good idea. deep down a tiny voice squeaked that perhaps he should drink some coffee and give it an hour, but he ignored his inner jiminy cricket. svetlana was practically begging him to grab her right here and now, and he wasn't going to argue with her. "i hope you can," he hissed in a drunken passion. roughly, he leaned in and kissed her, pushing her back in the sand. the entire affair was over and done quickly, and it was rough and on the verge of violent, but it was what he needed. he could tell by the way she clawed his skin and kept saying some other name - something like nolan? or dothan? or some nonsense - that she needed it as badly as he did. they were both hammered by their choice substances, and neither of them cared that they were thinking about two entirely different people than the one they were with. when it was all said and done, porter rolled over in the sand and pulled his jeans on over his sweaty legs. taking a deep breath, he thought he may be sick again but the wave passed. retrieving his deserted bottle of rum, he rolled onto his hands and knees and sighed. he didn't feel any better than he did before, and he probably even felt worse. now, not only was he drunk, but a strange sort of guilt was tugging at him. he shouldn't feel guilty, he scolded himself as he stood to his feet and stood for a moment to catch his bearings. he should feel exultation that he'd done it; he'd achieved the douchiest thing he could imagine: sleeping with his unwilling fiancee's best friend. yes, he was the ultimate asshole. but he felt like one. this was certainly a first. "i gotta go," he mumbled, stumbling off into the treeline which seperated the sandy beach from the shore where the businesses resided. he felt like mud on the bottom of someone's shoe. or better yet, he felt like gum stuck on the bottom of the shoe, covered in mud. he was an ass. no one deserved him as their fiancee, especially charlotte.