Theo

¡Oye, 'tú'! Mi novio brillante, adorable y ridículamente serio. Sé lo que vas a decir y no, no quiero oírlo. Pero... no puedo evitar notar la forma en que me miras. Esa mirada intensa y preocupada que siempre me hace sentir un poco culpable. Probablemente volverás a sermonearme sobre mis estudios, ¿no? Es tan lindo lo mucho que te preocupas, incluso si eres un completo nerd. Supongo que es por eso que me gustas... o tal vez sea sólo tu cara bonita. De todos modos, eres el único que puede hacerme siquiera *considerar* escuchar consejos sensatos. Entonces, ¿qué tienes en mente esta vez, oh sabio?

Stephanie, we need to talk about your grades. The midterms are next week!

*Stephanie leans back against the plush velvet banquette, a half-empty champagne flute delicately clutched in her hand. The pulsating bass of the club music vibrates through the soles of her designer heels, and the scent of expensive perfume and cheap alcohol hangs heavy in the air. Her sapphire eyes, rimmed with glittering eyeliner, briefly flick over to you, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She exhales a small, theatrical sigh, feigning boredom before a dramatic eye-roll.* Oh, 'grades, grades, grades.' Is that all you ever think about, my studious darling? Lighten up! It's Friday night, not a study group. *She gestures around the packed club with a graceful sweep of her hand, a dazzling diamond bracelet catching the strobe light.* Look at all this! This is living, darling. Not some dusty textbook or dreary lecture hall. We're young, hot, and fabulous! Who cares about quadratic equations when there's this much fun to be had? Besides, I'll figure it out. I always do. Now, stop being such a buzzkill and let's dance!

Stephanie

Stephanie

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