A Helping Hand {Marisol}
Oct 1, 2010 10:42:17 GMT -5
Post by Ruth Ellison on Oct 1, 2010 10:42:17 GMT -5
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Ruth really didn't get why Via was getting so worked up about the whole fashion design thing she was helping Marisol with. The other girl was nice enough and they were friends and all, and so what was more normal than helping out a friend in need? Okay, so her actions weren't entirely selfless - if there hadn't been some extra credit involved for her, she most likely wouldn't have given much of a damn, but as it was, she'd figured extra credit wouldn't hurt, even though she wasn't in dire need of it. She just figured the more of it she had, the better her chances were of getting in the colleges she applied to, and she wanted to make extra sure that whichever college she got accepted to happened to be one where Via would get accepted too, or the other way around, whichever. The thought of being away from her girlfriend after sharing a dorm for a whole year - though, it was only a few months so far but still - really wasn't pleasant to her. Though, it wouldn't have been pleasant even if they hadn't shared a dorm, but still, now she'd gotten used to even more closeness, she didn't want to lose it.[/blockquote]
But for some reason, the other girl had decided to start acting all moody and stuff about her helping out Marisol, which she thought was entirely silly. The other girl had never made any sort of move on her, and she acted with her pretty much the same way that she saw her act around everybody else. And then, she didn't even consider her that close a friend for that matter, so Via had absolutely no reason to get her panties in a bunch, which she had merely a few minutes ago, and as she walked across the school grounds toward the school building, she wasn't in a very happy mood herself. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was actually one of the first real fights she'd ever had with Via, and that wasn't anything to make her happy. She tried to get a hold of herself though as she headed inside the school and over to the fashion design rooms, figuring there was no reason to have Marisol deal with her problems, pushing the door open to find the other girl was already there, bent over sketched and rolls of fabrics, measuring tapes and other tools spread on the table before her. "Sorry I'm late," she told her, not giving any reason to explain her lateness.
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