Hello, everyone, and welcome to my new fic! I know it's been a waaaay too long time coming, but finally, it's here! :)

Alright, the usual crap:

Rating: NC17, there's some pretty adult themes, coarse language, no graphic sex though.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the celebrities mentioned in the fic, and most of the female characters are based on my girls from the site. I do however own the character Jaime, so don't steal her (not that you'd want to), and the idea is purely my own. I do not own any of the songs used in the fic, they are the property of their...owners, funnily enough. :P

NOTE: This is not your average fan fic, and certainly is very different from all the fics I've written before. Before I tried to make them very 'ensemble', attempting to give each of the characters equal time. This time the focus is really only on two characters, and while the others are all important to the story, they're not big parts at all. So please don't be disappointed if you don't see your character mentioned for a few chapters at a time, there is a reasoning for this, and everything makes sense in the end!!

Oh, and I would like to send a HUUUUUUUGEEEEE thank you to Mena, who has read the manuscript for this story countless times, and acted as my editor, putting up with my whining and questioning and constant e-mailing. *mwah* You're the best, and I love you!!

I'd also like to dedicate this to all my girls, even the ones I didn't have room for in this fic, I'm not gonna get soppy, but I love you! *hugs*

Alright, on with the fic then. I think I've kept you all waiting long enough!



INTIMATE PORTRAIT


So unimpressed but so in awe
Such a saint but such a whore
So self aware so full of shit
So indecisive so adamant

Who does she turn to after yet another disastrous encounter? Well, in actual fact, no one. And you can’t really classify them as disasters if she doesn’t classify them that way herself. But I’m the one who hears about them, I’m the one she confides in when she needs to vent a little. Oh, she’s good at venting, Jaime is, get her started on a topic/person that she’s not happy with, and she’ll talk for hours. Hell, it’s about the only time she ever does. So I, like the good friend I am, sit and listen, talk her through it, analyse every detail until we’ve pretty much decided that she’s a basket case. Every time she promises that it’ll be the last one.

I'm contemplating thinking about thinking
It's so overrated just get another drink in
Watch me come undone

But Jaime’s promises don’t mean much. Don’t hate her for it, it’s just the way she is. You see, by breaking her promises every now and then, she maintains that mysteriousness about her, that unavailability and aloofness. That air of “Gee, I’d really like to be your friend, but I’m not sure I have the time…look, I’ll book you in, but it’s likely to change at short notice, okay?” And just as you’re getting fed up with her she goes and keeps one, and charms the pants off you, makes you feel like you’re the most important thing in her life and she was happy to have sacrificed everything to keep this promise to you. She’s a charmer, is our Jaime. And she has this sixth sense – she knows just when you’re reaching the end of your rope, just as you’re at the point you’re about to give up on her. And that’s when she hits you with an email or a phone call or a surprise visit, with a bottle of vodka and a carton of cigarettes, ready to let you pour out your heart to her.

They're selling razor blades and mirrors in the street
I pray that when I'm coming down you'll be asleep
If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet

You can really pour out your heart to Jaime. She may not be great at keeping promises, but she’s good at keeping secrets. And she can dispense advice like a trained psychoanalyst – human emotions are her speciality. “Have a good cry at least once a month, it cleans out all the emotional baggage,” is her most frequent one. Not that I believe that she actually follows her own advice. It’s a shame, it’s good, and sometimes I think she needs to follow it more than her “patients”. She’ll listen as well, for hours on end, and not say a word, just letting you vent. She’ll just sit, curled up with a cigarette perpetually balanced between her forefinger and middle finger of her right hand, and watch you as you talk, not judging, not commenting. Just listening, taking it all in. Sometimes you feel that when she leaves she takes a little part of you with her, and it can be a comforting thought.

So rock and roll so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all

I never take a little part of her, though. She never lets me. Her own psyche is carefully guarded by burly security guards and safety gadgets straight out of Oceans’ Eleven. Oh sure, she’ll share the “Oh, I got so angry today when this happened…” But she never gets angry. Not really. And she’ll give the “I saw this homeless person and it made me so sad…” But sadness for her is just a word. No doubt she feels it sometimes, but never to the full extent that a person can. And then there are her ‘squee’ moments, of sheer excitement. But the excitement never quite reaches her eyes, although she’s a fantastic actress. There’s just always something missing, something not quite right, when she’s happy. For she can never be truly happy, not in the way most of us picture it.

I’m painting a bad picture of her, aren’t I? Well, I don’t mean to, I’m just trying to tell the truth. She’s a good person. She’s cute, and kind, and she cares as much as she will allow herself to. She’s not moody, although she gets tired, mainly because of her lifestyle. She’s ambitious but not mean-spirited. She’s kinda lazy, but not with important stuff. She builds up your ego purely to make you feel better about yourself, giving you compliments with such sincerity you can’t help but believe her.

I'm not scared of dying I just don't want to
If I stop lying I'd just disappoint you
I come undone

But I worry about her. Something in her mind – or maybe her heart – has switched off, and I fear that no-one will ever find the ‘On’ button again. She’s just so fully aware of herself, and so determined not to show weakness, she’s shut down her emotions completely.

I don’t know why I’m writing this, dedicating this whole work to my dear friend Jaime, who is a self-confessed emotional retard. Maybe it was just something I have to get off my chest. Maybe I need to vent, as Jaime herself declares is good therapy, although of course I can’t vent to her, when it’s about her. Would she take offence to this? I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. In her own little narcissistic way, I think she’d actually enjoy it. I don’t know how much of it would sink into her brain if she did read it, but…who knows.

Do another interview
Sing a bunch of lies
Tell about celebrities that I despise
And sing love songs
We sing love songs
So sincere
So sincere

So, a tribute to my best friend, Jaime. A toast. Or maybe a roast.

Because I'm scum
And I'm your son
I've come undone

It could go either way. You never know with her.

Song credit: "Come Undone", Robbie Williams

*Jumps up and down all over the place*
YES YES!! Uh, how badly I have been waiting for his to be posted!
You already know I loved it to bits, and finally everybody will understand why.

First of all:

*is serious* you know you saved what's left of my sanity, letting me read it. I don't think I would have coped up with the stress to read it in bits on the board.
Plus, thank YOU for trusting me... and heck, sign me in for the next million years if you need help!

Now, the story. You said it right, this is not the average fanfic: even from the first chapter, it turns very deep and sharp and, yes, quite emotional.

You know it scared me at first to read it: my first thought was gee, is this really what the author thinks we see her like? See, you made me make the first, basic mistake of readers, to blend fiction with reality.

We all need someone like that in our lives... and I can picture this 'Jaime' perfectly doing so, thanks to a certain DVD of a musical I own... :tsk:

Well, this part made me so sad that i had to stop reading to let it sink down. You just said smething very nasty and sad about her... it's a curse to feel so detached from emotion.

I could quote evything, but I must leave something for the others, right?

Not to mention, I LOVE ha song, and Robbie's songs in general reminds me of you... now every time I hear this one I hink of this story. :)

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

:love:

Wow!!

This was such an intriguing begining just wow. It didn't give anything away but gave a great introduction to the story. It really was fantastic Jamie and wow. Blown away.

You got me hooked.

With love

Anneka

HA! So much for the PM that said the story would be posted in another week or so.

Not that I mind. I was quite excited to see it posted already.

Okay, I know you mentioned that this was going to be different from all your other fics due to it not being an ensamble fic. But girl, you left out the little fact that this one immediately dives right into some serious stuff. No light hearted fluff or happy go lucky background information. We are talking some serious emotion, setting of a darker tone than your previous fics.

After I was finished reading, I just sat and stared at my computer screen. I couldn't believe that this was your fic. :unsure:

But I love it! I was completely engaged with the story from the first paragraph on.

This little bit popped out for me. I can't help but feel sorry for Jaime. Sorry that she has shut off all emotions and wonder why the heck she would do something like that.

I'm curious.

Bring it on girl, I want to find out more.

P.S. I love you too!

eeeeeee! Oh, Jess, I saw this was up yesterday, but I had to study for my pissy Law exam and I got all angry for I didn't have time to read. But, now I diddddd and I love! Girl, seriously, this is a kick ass beginning....it completely draws the reader in and makes you want to know more about Jaime and what makes her tick, what makes her the way she is.

This was my favorite part, I wanna know why she guards herself so much and why she doesn't truly have emotions!!!!

I'm so glad this is being posted, and I can't wait for more of Jaime to be revealed!

:love:

Thanks guys!

Clever girl
Think you are but you think too much
Shut down turn around
Don't like that way anymore

I hadn’t heard from her in a week when I unexpectedly ran into her as I was rushing through the Latin Quarter towards La Sorbonne University. She looked pale, dishevelled, and tired, although there was a glimmer in her eye that suggested her latest conquest had been victorious. “Where you been?” I asked casually, knowing she wouldn’t respond well to an interrogation. The truth was, she hadn’t been home – home being her two-bed dormitory room two doors down from my own – in nearly six days. She was uncontactable by phone, and her roommate, Amber, was starting to go ballistic.

“In Montmarte,” was Jaime’s equally casual reply. “You know, I love that area. I’m thinking of moving there at the end of semester, when the lease on the dorm room is up. You wanna come with?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Clever girl
Think you know but you don't know much
Try to make a move
Go to a different door

Did I dare press further? No, of course not. She would tell in her own time. That was her way – if you press her, she closes down even more. If you give her space, she’ll give you something – not a lot, but something.

“You missed the contemporary art session at the Louvre on Tuesday,” I told her. “Do you want my notes to catch up?”

She gave a sigh, the kind where you can picture the word “Sigh” forming in her brain. Sometimes she even says it out loud. “I dunno, man. I’m too tired to think of school shit right now. I’m heading home to sleep. I might catch you in the lounge tonight, though, ‘kay?”

“’Kay.” It’s always best not to argue.

You know it's all in your head
You better put that business to bed
By your fair hands of design
You met the monster in your mind

Of course whispers were rife among the student body of La Sorbonne. Jaime was, well, something of a celebrity among our ranks, mainly for the fact that she kept getting lead roles in all the faculty plays, and with her theatre class had performed an outdoor show that directly insulted the institution of the university itself. It was also for her eccentricity – with her bright red hair that always flew in wild curls, and crazed, bohemian clothing, she stood out a mile, even among all the other crazy, French, bohemian artistes.

And on this morning, everyone knew that she had been missing for a week.

You did it again
You did it again
Won't you listen to me when I'm telling you
It's no good for you

Sounds funny to say “Missing for a week”, doesn’t it? Usually that sentence would send people into a panic, calling police and sending out search parties. But when Jaime goes missing, you can usually assume that she’s just shacked up with some guy. And if she goes missing for a full week, well…let’s just say that the sex must have been fantastic and the guy in question must have been Brad Pitt and Olivier Martinez rolled into one. Hey, she’s choosy.

Clever girl
Think you're right but what's right from wrong
Little miss genius
You make it hard on yourself

The class I was dashing to was History of Modern Art, and Amber, Jaime’s roommate, was also there. I should stop and explain a little here – the three of us, plus a few others who make up our little group – are all international students of La Sorbonne University in Paris. We all live in the student residences on campus, and are all studying Arts, some of us for the love of, well, art, and some purely for the chance to study overseas without committing ourselves too fully to anything too major. And what better to study when you’re in Paris, France? Seriously, are you gonna come here to study medicine, or science? Hell no. That’s just way too much work, and not enough spare time to focus on the important things, like the nightlife.

So Amber was in my class, and of course the conversation turned to our dear darling AWOL friend.

Clever girl
You've got it all but you're all messed up
Time now turn around
Move on to something else

“She’s back,” I stated, sliding into a seat beside Amber. “I just ran into her in the Quarter. She’s been in Montmarte.”

“Montmarte?” Amber arranged her features into a faux-dejected expression. “Dang it, I was just getting used to having a room to myself.”

“Well, you’ve been spoiled long enough. Looks like she had a good time, too. Hasn’t seen sunlight in days.”

“Hmm. Half her luck.”

You know it's all in your head
You better put that business to bed
What you see nobody sees
It only brings you to your knees

Amber is from Louisiana, one of the Americans that make up the majority of our group, and she’s one of the second group that’s only here for the chance to study in Paris. She wants to be a pharmacist, and she’s worked hard, a little too hard, and decided one day that she needed a vacation. Her school back in Louisiana offered this scholarship program to study here for two years and, well, she just took it. Why the fuck not? She’ll return with only a semester of pharmaceuticals left, plus an arts degree, and now she can say she studied in Paris. Sounds good to me.

We’re all on similar scholarship programs, for two years. The first just ended, we’re now into our third semester, and in just a few days we’ll be meeting this year’s newbies, who are just starting their first. It’s weird, when we started we thought the second-years were so cool, so utterly intelligent and bohemian and creative and stuff…now we are the second-years, and this new lot is gonna look up to us in the same way. Makes you feel proud. And sometimes very, very fake.

“You heading to the lounge?” Amber asked as we left the class two hours later. The student residences on campus were in one long building, with girls in the east wing and boys in the west, and a huge living area in the middle. This was known as the lounge.

“Of course,” I replied. “Just have to go home and shower first.” There’s a primary school just outside the Latin Quarter, and I teach English to the older kids on Thursday mornings. Funny, hey, that I should teach them English – me, a native Italian. But it gives me some extra credit, and as I’m not here purely to sightsee Paris but to actually study, every bit helps. Most of the kids are little shits, very few of them have much grasp on the English language, and most of them don’t even care, but I sweat through each class, swearing at them under my breath in Italian, and come out feeling like I’d just run a marathon. Kids can do that to you, make you absolutely, utterly exhausted. Remind me to make a mental note not to have any of my own.

My roommate, Mia, was there when I entered my room, brushing out her long, white-blond hair. Her hair is natural, would you believe, and stunning. Of course it’s earned her the permanent nickname “Blondie”, which I think she’s kind of proud of, and she’s the butt of many a blonde joke, from the boys especially. But she’s a woman of incredibly good humour, and any joking insult that’s thrown her way she has an even wittier comeback for. And, truth be told, it’s a common fact that she’s not your typical ‘dumb blonde’ at all. Far from it. Which is probably why she attracts so much attention.

“Newbies arrive this afternoon,” she told me as I entered, looking over her incredible collection of MAC makeup products. I swear, the girl is obsessed.

I unceremoniously dumped my bag onto my bed. “What? I thought they were due on Monday.”

“No, they’re here early. So the lounge is going to be overrun by crying, homesick first-years in a few hours.”

“Oh God.” Was this what last year’s second-years thought of us? “So I’m guessing the lounge is out, tonight?”

“That’s what I thought. Let’s make alternate plans instead.”

With a quiet evening in the lounge out of the question, we sat down to plan. Good thing we’re in Paris right now. There’s a café on every street corner.

You did it again (oh-oh)
You did it again (oh-oh)
Won't you listen to me when I'm telling you
It's no good for you

*song credit: "You Did It Again" by Kylie Minogue

*sighs*
It's impossible for me to write a short reply... there's just too much I need to point out.

Aha, I can imagine! Plus, loved the use of the adjective 'ballistic'... totally one of my faves. :shine:

You know,it's sort of weird that she can disappear for a week and nail basically anyone, and none of her friends gets concerned. Okay, seems your story is all about grown ups and their choices, but there's something sad in this lack of surprise for her behaviour.

Hell, no! Another of my faves.

And here, you start to introduce your character, and who better than 'Amber' could pave the way? I was slightly surprised at first, that you took so much inspiration from RL... it makes it look 'possible', and it's a weird sensation.

And when I read this part, I screeched 'ohhhh!!' because of course I didnt get he hint so far. So, she is the narrator, the Italian chick? Mmmm...
Anyway, the line about kis was pure thruth. Although I beg to differ, I wouldn't mind have some, at least I'd make sure my kids are polite, clean and silent most of the time... and also, try and have kids is a damn good excuse to...
uh, never mind. :ups:

Ahahah, she sounds familiar! And, I love this description of her, and of her obsession with MAC products.

At first I wondered why this choice of roommates, you know... but it's an interesting combination. :grouphug:

Pheeeew, many news for a second chapter... now, I wonder how it will progress. Okay, I already know, but this is not the point!

I am quite intrigued by this beginning, Jaime... loved it a lot...

especially this sentence

I have been quite discontinuing in reading fics lately but I I'll be doing my best to follow yours.

:love:

Jaime, my gosh, girl, you are killing me with this story. It is like you leak out little bits of information and then leave us hanging in anticipation.

It is such sweet torture.

Okay, excuse me, there are so many bits I must quote.

Bwahahahahahaa. Sometimes I do that. I will sigh and then follow it up with actually saying "sigh".

I loved this description of Jaime. Not sure why exactly, but it just stuck with me.

I agree with Mena here. This little bit disturbed me greatly. I understand that they are adults who can make their own decisions, but such distructive behavior and have it be accepted by her friends is a tiny bit disturbing. But I suppose, with a person such as Jaime, one very aloof, you don't want to pressure, or lecture, for fear she will turn away and completely shut you out of her life.

I did have a giggle about the copious amounts of sex that Jaime is getting. I don't blame her, with a hottie in bed, who needs sunshine.

Excellent introduction of Amber. I like the idea of all these international students studying art in France. Somethere to actually gain knowledge of a subject they adore, others there to kill some time in an intelligent fashion, but completely different from their "real life" studies.

Ah ha! And so we finally get some insight into who the narrator is, and how she fits into the scheme of things. Very clever. :yay:

Excuse me...EEEEEEEE! What a wonderful description. She sounds quite lovely, and quite the character. Sounds like someone I would like. ^_^

Excellent update my dear. I like how we got more background on Jaime, found out a bit about the narrator, and Jaime's friends. I'm definitely intrigued to see where this goes.

Hey, you're all so smart, picking up my little subtleties! lol *hugs everyone* And Bloomiecurse, Squeeee!!! Thanks for being here!! *hugs*

And to Anna:

Ah, interesting that you should notice that. It's actually very deliberate. I debated whether to have Jaime and the 'narrator' as roommates, it may have made more sense, but if I had, then there would have been no room to play out the other storylines, if you know what I mean? Like, by seperating them, then I have to automatically include these two others, Amber and Mia, as important characters as well...I'm not explaining myself very well! lol But it was done deliberately!

I knew the narrator had to be Mena when you introduced Amber by third-person. Well, and the whole emotion of the narrator.

So, this is an incredibly different story? I'd have to say, um, hell yeah! Its not like your typical fics, where I think you struggled to bring in all these different characters and intertwine their lives and give them all distinct plots within a community. This one, it almost seems dark, the way she's describing it, but maybe its just more insightful.

Ooh...newbies, eh? This should be lots of fun. Oh, to study in Paris! That would be a sweet two years.

Hehe. Blondie's not alone in being caught sighing and then actually saying it. I get yelled at for that one frequently. <_<

Its the red hair, Jess. My friends always tell me that if they're looking for me, all they do is look for the "flaming red hair". This is bad at masquerades and costume parties where people like to hide their identity... humph.

I can imagine Amber doing this. Going from ballistic ravings wondering where Jaime is, to totally faux-nonchalant about the ordeal. :hug:

I always have these thoughts. I remember being a sixth grader and not being able to wait till high school. And I remember being in elementary school and so looking up to the sixth graders. I guess its a never-ending cycle of supposed superiority...

Hey Jaime,

Can't give a long reply, unfortunetly, but as I've just started uni myself I'm now worried what the 2nd years think of us crying and home sick :eek: Great chappie.

Anneka

WOWIEEEEE!!!!
That was great!!!!! I absolutely loved it. I've been so P.Oed at my stupid internet and I get back on after a week and see this brilliant fic up!
:woot:

I'm so excited you gave me the heads up PM and that you thought of me to be in it.

AMEN!
They can be shits too. I love 'em but they have their moments.

I can't wait to read more. I'm hooked!

:hug:

~Stacy~

Yay! Another chapter and some introductions of new characterssss! I love the narration in this story, by the way....it's a very unique sort of point of view, and I really enjoy it.

It's funny to me, because it is the exact word I would have used myself...I'm going BALLISTIC! Gosh, it's in my vocabulary almost as much as skunked. ehehehe!

Seriously, this part made me laugh so hard! I loved it...the sigh forming in the brain. That's some good stuff there, Jess.

Raaa! Wouldn't it be nice if I could really do this???? The closest thing I can do is study in Scotland, but it wouldn't be art...it would be the mental health of patients in an insane asylum. booooo!

Awww, I loved Blondie's intro....so very Blondie-ish. It made me feel all warm and toasty inside. :yes:

The MAC makeup part made me smile so big. I love all these personal touches.

Very good second chapter, making me ponder where exactly Jaime was for a whole week.........or who she was with. :tsk:

I am loving this!

Thanks girls!! *hugs* You're da best!

I should point out that because this fic is in diary-type form, some of the chaps are gonna be a little on the short side and some of them are gonna be super-long.


On Friday morning, they were there. Every year La Sorbonne takes twenty international students, that’s twenty students in the entire rest of the world, and they descend on the campus like a frigin’ plague. It also doesn’t help that they arrive three weeks into semester, so as they’re getting settled in they disrupt the rest of us, who’ve just gotten into a routine.

Not that I can really bitch. Last year I was one.

We international students get an entire floor of dormitories to ourselves – split into boys and girls, of course. Hell, the French may be promiscuous, but not that much. There’s ten two-bed rooms in each wing, five on either side of a wide corridor, with the shared bathroom at the end. Each year takes an entire side – second-year’s on the left, this time. And on Friday morning, when we exited our rooms and headed off to our first classes of the day, we were greeted by chaos.

“Did we make this much mess last year?” asked Stacy, who lives in the room to the left of mine. We’d met in the hall to head to our Literature class together, and surveyed the scene. The hall was full of luggage, some opened and some not, and the whole place was littered with empty cardboard boxes and packing materials. Clothing spilled out of suitcases and into open doorways, ten fresh-faced newcomers made more noise than you can imagine as they dragged stuff about.

Another second-year joined us, Stacy’s pain-in-the-ass roommate Caitlyn. “They didn’t get in til really late last night, and just left all their stuff out in the hall. What a bloody mess.”

“Leave ‘em to it, I say,” was my contribution as we gladly abandoned the confusion.

About the third week of semester is when the days start blending into one long continuous activity, when classes start to blur into one another, and parties and gatherings become a regular thing. This is when routine sets in, you begin to get set in your ways, and any difference to that routine becomes an annoyance. We had made it a habit to meet for breakfast in the lounge, or La Peresser, as it was known, before heading off to our respective classes and activities. Friday mornings were usually the quietest, most of us had arranged our schedules so that we wouldn’t have full days, and some had been lucky enough to wind up with nothing at all on Fridays, so it was a small group that gathered that morning.

Stacy and myself were present, as was Amber, and one of the only two boys in our group, Dominic. Caitlyn, despising us and us despising her, had thankfully disappeared. No doubt as the story progresses, you’ll hear more of her, and why we hate her so much, but for now there’s more important things to write about. As we ate, the newbies began to emerge from the dorm corridors, and gather for their first day of orientation.

You’re probably beginning to think I’ll never get back on the proper subject, the proper subject of course being Jaime, but the truth is that as I begin to write this, I really haven’t seen much of her. Only yesterday’s brief meeting in the Latin Quarter, when she was glowing and tired and oh-so-pleased with herself. She didn’t emerge for breakfast this morning, although we share the same French Literature class, in fact Amber told me that she pretty much slept all day. Must have been a damn long week. But talking about the new first years milling around the lounge, looking lost and shy and attempting to get to know one another reminded me of the first day that we arrived here ourselves.

A friend in need's a friend indeed,
A friend who bleeds is better

You know when you look at a person and just click with them? Just an instant chemistry, and I’m not purely talking about romantic-type chemistry, just personal attraction chemistry. You look at a person, and you meet their eyes across a crowded room, and something just clicks, and you know that that person is going to become a part of your life. Well, the second I walked into this very lounge, still too shy and not confident with my English language skills to really get to know Mia, my roommate, I spotted this tiny redhead sitting across the room, looking small and scared and out of her depth. She looked up as I entered – in actual fact she’d been scanning the room, quietly observing the chaos before deciding which move to make, and had just happened to glance in my direction at the moment I spotted her. Her strange, grey-green eyes met my own stormy grey ones, and she smiled, more out of reflex than anything, I think. But she told me later that she felt that connection as well, so I knew I wasn’t just going crazy.

It’s not in my nature to approach a stranger and start chatting to them, and it’s not in hers either, so it was awhile before we actually spoke. She intimidated the hell out of me as I watched her, she just seemed so aloof, so unfriendly, but it was that kind of attraction one has to the so-called “popular” kids at high school…you know they’re assholes, and you know you should hate them, but there’s still always that longing to be a part of their group, to have them acknowledge you as a friend. Crap metaphor, huh, but it’s the only thing I can think of to describe it. As our co-ordinator, basically the person who was running the international program, was giving us a long lecture about campus living, I decided to sneak out for a cigarette. I know you can smoke pretty much anywhere you want in France, but I still thought it would be rude to light up in the middle of the crowded lounge, and besides I was nervous as hell and dying for some air. Outside in the small courtyard I found her, with a cigarette freshly lit, watching my approach with a small smile on her pretty bow-lips.

“Sweet, another smoker.” She was Australian, I picked it straight away with almost an audible squeal of delight. The program was full of Americans, and don’t get me wrong, I love them to death, but they can be kinda scary in big packs. “I’m Jaime.” She held out her hand and we shook.

“Anna.” I sat on the old-fashioned park bench beside her, and lit up a cigarette of my own. Needless to say, we missed most of the lecture.

A friend in need's a friend indeed
A friend who’ll tease is better
Our thoughts compressed
Which makes us blessed
And makes for stormy weather

First impressions are funny things, aren’t they? That first second I saw her, Jaime intimidated the hell out of me. And I know for a fact that I’m not the first – and certainly won’t be the last – person to ever get that impression. But once you know her, once she lets you in just enough to begin to show her true self, you realise how true that old adage is, the one that says “Never judge a book by its cover.” Now, knowing her, I laugh at myself for thinking that. Jaime, intimidating? It seems ridiculous. Tiny little Jaime, a self-proclaimed feminist’s nightmare, who wouldn’t hurt a fly if she wanted and had the physical strength to. Jaime, who just wants everyone to love her, Jaime, who calls out silently for approval with every breath she takes. Jaime, who hasn’t quite mastered the art of standing up for herself, the eternal pacifist who wants the world to be a haven of art and beauty and music. She doesn’t want to intimidate anyone.

Yet – and I know I’m contradicting myself here – she still is a little. Even knowing her, knowing all those things that I’ve just pointed out above, she can be intimidating. Maybe it’s her passion for what she does, what she loves. Maybe it’s her adaptability – from the second day we were in Paris, it was like she’d been here her whole life. Or maybe it’s the fact that you never quite know what’s going on in her mind. She never lets you in completely, therefore you can never quite trust her. Horrible thing to say, isn’t it, but there, I’ve said it. I don’t entirely trust her.

Or maybe the issue here is that I don’t entirely know her.

*song credit: "Pure Morning" by Placebo

First, I love that song.

Second (that i already said and that i am going to repeat until you'll shoot me) you pegged me incredibly well, especially in the small things, and that's scary, man.

I was nodding vigorously at this part... feels like my life, or at least, how my life would be in Paris, and with a Jaime, an Amber, a Mia and a Stacy in my posse. :shine:

So me-like, scanning a new room for someone I feel can click with.. and, it made me smile that in both our stories we met in the faculty. ;)

The part about chemistry is true, I have always believed it, and you just spoke my thoughts aloud in writing this.

I read this part over and over again, at least fifteen times since you sent me the first version. The intimidation, the craving to approach someone who looks cooler than you, more self-confident than you, more at ease than ou.. I feel it all the time, and as a result of it, I put up this snobby expression and look like "the confident one", despite I'm shaking like hell.
I think it's something about animal instincts, that make us long for the respect and protection of stronger ones, or of those who in our brain correspond to our idle idea of strong.

Or maybe I think so cause I have never been a leader.

LOL! This made me laugh. Americans.. I love them, how couldn't I? Some of my dearest friends are. But there is nobody in Europe who would not agree with this sentence.
Quoth Gerard Butler in The Reign of Fire: there's one thing worse than dragons: Americans.

Sorry, ladies! You know I love y'all!

*sigh* I can see myself in this, in Anna's thoughts, just as much as in Jaime's. I don't think that the 99% of intimidating people realize they are, o are glad of it. And I am talking about people who are intimidating by nature... sometimes they are the first ones to get disapponted when they're told so.
Also, this was a heck of good description of Jaime, and very useful for what will go next.

:cry: This is one of the several sentences that depressed me like Hell at first reading!
*shouts*
I trust you!!!!!

:love:

You are a fan fic writing genious.

Just everything you describe and the way you say things make me jealous. I wish I could come up with some of the metaphors and descriptions that you do. You really know how to hook a reader and with something as completely different as this it's just brilliant.

*snort* Pfft... <_<
I bet I have loads of fun this year.

Lord, this cracked me up! I know we're not the world's favorite people but this was just great. :lmao:

Oh Mena, we love you with all our fire breathing power! :devil:
*hugs*

Great chapter!

~Stacy~

Hey, new fan here. I just want to state the obvious that this is a great fic and i can't wait for more. I love the song lirics, there interesting. Anyways keep up the good work, adieu

I LOVE this story. Gah! I can't even put it into words how much i love the description, and i like the perspective to. Anyways keep up the good work (god does that ever sound dull, but i don't know what else to say) Ciao

I wish you could see me as I read this, because I bet it would be funny. I'm like all wide eyed and completely in the zone, everything about me fades away and my gaze is glued to the screen. And, my mouth was slightly open towards the end of that chapter. I am soo into this! I love this style of writing and the whole sort of air of mystery about Jaime's character. Ah, this is addictive!

This made me very sad, because if you can't trust your friends, then you're in trouble. Trust me, I know from one particular instance. :cry:

Alright, time to sit back and wait for more.........I wanna know why 'we' hate Caitlyn. :yes:

wow jamie this is really amazing it really is just wow. I wish I had more time to reply but got bout 15 emails to read and reply to. Ahhh I hate not having internet. Great chappie and I love the last line is very kewl

Oh my! I finally got back into the business with my lap! (yay for lap!) and the first thing I did (when I got into the site, really) was to change my siggy and come here and read it..

I loved it! It's so like my dorms! I swear it's just like you described it except for the same restroom for all the floor (we're lucky, I know).

I love this, and I'm pretty sure I will love it because I feel so identify with it! Good job! Good job! :D

I'm loving it ;) [add Mcdonald's song here]

*grabs Andie in bear hug* HIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay for Andie!!! And for her lap! lol Alright, new chap. Why the hell not?

It was Saturday afternoon when I finally ran into her again. She emerged from her room where she’d lain, practically comatose, since she’d returned home after our meeting in the Latin Quarter, and we met at the long basin in the shared bathroom, in front of the nearly wall-to-wall mirror. She was clean and shower-fresh, smelled like White Musk, a scent she bought on E-bay whenever she ran out, as it was an Australian brand and unheard of here. She had it shipped out in au de parfum form, a moisturiser and a shower gel, so her pores constantly emanated that sweet, subtly musk scent that was so distinctive.

“Morning!” she called brightly, her greeting for any time of day.

I grunted a reply, digging through my toiletries bag for my daily cleansing products. Jaime, approaching the sink, began to do the same.

The morning cleansing ritual around here is a strict thing, for all of us girls. I don’t know why, it’s like some secret, silent pact was made between us all when we arrived, all ten of us girls. Or maybe the routine was develop from the second years above us, I remember them all being utterly pedantic about it, and maybe we all just picked up the habit. I don’t know – either way, we’re all obsessed, and as a result, I have to say, we all have beautiful skin.

“Seen the newbies yet?” she asked casually, in that comfortable tone friends have with each other. Sometimes it seems like that comfortable tone is just an act for her, like there’s always someone over her shoulder, watching her, and she’s trying to prove to this invisible person that yes, she really does have good friends. Don’t ask me what brought this image to mind, just one of those strange things you pick up when you observe a person for a long period of time, I guess. As she spoke, she smoothed L’Oreal Paris cleanser over her cheeks.

“Yeah,” I replied. “But haven’t spoken to them yet. They scare me.” I too smoothed cleanser – Neutrogena – over my own cheeks.

“Me too. I’m fuckin’ terrified of them.” No surprises there – Jaime was terrified of everything.

“So, you must have had a good week, then, eh?”

There, I’d said it. Just casually slipped her absence into conversation, keeping that comfortable tone, never batting an eyelash or taking my eyes off my cleansing progress in the mirror before me. But in the reflection I could see her as clear as day, and even through the white foam that garishly covered her face, I saw her blush.

“Yeah, it was good.” Once the words left her mouth, she shut down. For her it’s an almost physical thing, you can almost see the shades being drawn across her eyes, and there’s a slight, almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw. Then, right on schedule, her defence kicked in. When backed into a corner, make a joke. “He was hot!” She giggled, and I laughed along with her, more to ease the tension than out of amusement.

“He must have been. Anyone I know?”

“No. He’s not a student here. He’s not even French.” With this statement came a small toss of her head, in practicality to get her hair back off her face so she could rinse the dense white foam, but it was also a sign of defensiveness. If I pursued any further, she’d barely talk to me for a week out of fear I’d keep pressing for details she didn’t want to give.

“Well, I’m glad one of us had fun.” And I launched into a story about one of the lecturers, or professeur, as they say in French, and the incredibly bad score he’d given me on a pop quiz. Mission: Accomplished – she was distracted, and I was back in the good books again. And if this fling had been anything more than her usual ones, I’d hear about it eventually.

My roommate, Mia, is a journalist for La Sorbonne University campus newspaper, La Chronicque Hebdomadaire. Translated, it means “The Weekly Chronicle”, which isn’t too exciting a title, but of course it sounds better in French. She mainly does reviews on the local music scene, as well as a few feature articles, and because she wants to continue to study journalism when she gets back home, it gives her some extra credit to take home with her. But an added perk of this job, is that she gets into clubs and gigs for free, and naturally, we tag along with her. Friday nights were the big ones in all the usual campus hang-outs, and on this night Jaime and I had an extra special reason to be so pedantic about our beauty routine. A new club was opening in the Latin Quarter, Incendie et Glace. You guessed it, Fire and Ice. It looked really cool, they’d been renovating since our first semester, and naturally, Mia had passes. Not only that, but she’d managed to score a whole bunch of them, and like the kind, loving girl that she is, she was taking us all along with her. Basically, her job was to rock up and have a good time, get in for free and only pay for drinks, which there would be many of, listen to some great live music and have a blast with her friends, then simply write it up in a couple of paragraphs for her column the next day.

Sometimes I think I’ve gone into the wrong field with my writing. When did creative writing and poetry ever get you free entry into the hottest new club in town, I ask you.

It was, fortunately, only a flew blocks away from the University campus, and we set out, ten of us altogether, at an easy walk. Of course I realise that I haven’t completely introduced you to all of them, I guess it’s quite a big group, but really only half of the international students, but I’m sure you’ll get to know them all over the course of time. After all, Jaime isn’t the center of the universe, though she is supposedly the center of this piece. We’ll see how we go.

Jaime was in a fine mood this particular evening. Whenever we went out you could never be quite sure how she was going to be – she can be a moody little bitch sometimes – but tonight she was all smiles and laughter, ready to strut her stuff on the dance floor. Whoever this stranger she’d shacked up with for a week had been, he’d obviously been good for her. That’s not to say she was depressed, exactly, before, but there was a noticeable slide in her mood. She’d spend more and more time alone, just wanting to read or listen to music or just think, and her crazy, hyper self came out less and less frequently. But now she was back, and with a vengeance.

Incendie et Glace was decorated in cool shades of dark purple, with mirrors and smoke effects everywhere you looked. Very cool, we all agreed. As was the dance floor, all black marble that made the moving lights glint off it, although I wouldn’t be going near it unless absolutely forced. But Jaime and Amber and Mia’s eyes all lit up when they spotted it, I swear they’re all dance floor whores. No doubt, when the live music was finished and the DJ kicked in, those three would be ruling. I looked forward to watching it.

Because the club was aiming for a student clientele, they were obviously hoping for a good write up in La Sorbonne Chronique Hebdomadaire, and had therefore not only given Mia the free passes, but reserved her an entire table, just off the dance floor and with a perfect view of the stage, as well. Man, we felt like celebrities that night, being ushered into our seats and with everyone else in the club giving us those envious looks that say “I don’t know who you are but I hate you (and secretly, though I’ll never admit it, I want to join you).”

Let’s talk about Queen Bees for a second. You know the kind I’m talking about. Those people in every clique that seem to rule over everything. Oh, sometimes they don’t mean to, but they do. In our case, with a big group of eight of us, there happened to be four Queen Bees. Well, technically three, but I’ll explain that in a second. The thing is, the rest of us are happy to let them rule – they’re the ones that guide the conversations, decide on the next club in the bar-hopping expedition, lead the throes on the dance floor. All we have to do is sit back and laugh, join in on the conversations and let them lead us out to dance occasionally. Let them do their thing, and we’re pretty much guaranteed an evening of entertainment. The title with us is shared between Dom, a strapping British lad with a biting sense of humour, my dear Amber, and Mia, who I’ve spoken of before as being the unstereotypical blonde American, a tomboy at heart and with a wit to match (and even cut right off) the boys.

However, when Jaime’s feeling good, she sometimes takes the unofficial “Fourth Queen Bee” title. More often than not she’ll just sit back with the rest of us plebs and watch Mia and Dom and Amber do their thing, but when she’s on fire, that girl is on fire. And tonight, opening night of Incendie et Glace, she was definitely sur la incendie.

Granted, when the four of them got started, there wasn’t much room for paying attention to the actual bands, and I was barely aware of who was even onstage until Mia nudged me in the ribs and pointed. “Is he not the most delicious-looking man you’ve ever seen in your life?” I looked, and had to admit that I agreed – the guy with the curly dark hair and the guitar was a piece of work, alright. His set was drawing to a close, and as he took a quick, embarrassed bow, Mia was off.

“Backstage pass…” she sang, dangling the precious ticket in front of my face.

“Good luck, Amiga!” I called back.

Beside me, Stacy turned to me as we watched her walk away. “What are her chances?” Stacy asked.

“Hmm…” Mia was looking pretty hot, in her tight jeans and low-cut black top. “I’d say pretty good. She at least knows enough about live music to carry a conversation if nothing else.”

Stacy grinned. She’s another American, one of the four in the group, and she was studying childcare before she came out here. She’s an incurable romantic, you see, and when this program was advertised at her college, she instantly got this fantasy in her head of living in Paris for two years, and meeting and falling in love with the gorgeous (French) man of her dreams. So far she’s had pretty much no luck, a couple of crushes is about it, but she’s got this incredible faith, so I have no doubt she’ll get there. Maybe. I don’t believe in fairytales myself, but she does, and if someone believes in something bad enough, I guess anything can happen.

So what can I say about a night that was full of dancing and alcohol and laughter? Not a lot, I guess. Truth to tell, I don’t remember a whole lot – things get sort of blurry around the time we ordered up a fourth round of Margarita’s, and then someone had the brilliant idea of doing some shots (Jaime and Dom’s combined efforts, I think). I have a vague recollection of Jaime instructing the poor bartender in how to make something called a Quick Fuck. Sounds gross, I know, but it’s actually quite tasty. A little too tasty, perhaps, and goes down just a little too smooth. But I tell ya, it doesn’t come back up so smooth, and gone are the carefully compiled layers. Trust me on that one.

Well, what can I say? We had a good night. Mia, especially, it seemed, who didn’t come creeping home until the wee hours of the morning, long after the rest of us had headed to bed.

I love how you're slowly introducing us to, not only the characters, but also the concepts of their lives, the little things. Like Stacy's romanticism and the 3.5 Queen Bees. :bow: I bow down to your amazing talents, Jess.

Hmm... that crosses out a bunch of somebodys... Jaime gave me a nice laugh, with Anna trying to squeeze as many pieces out as she could without alienating her. And yet, there is still that mindboggling suspense as to who the hell she was stocked up with for seven days!

O, to have Mia-who-holds-the-world-in-her-hands as a friend. :lalala: But, from Anna's narrative, I'm sure she's COMPLETELY appreciated. Which is good, because I would be very sad if she wasn't. =)

Ohh, loved the opening setting in the girl's room, putting on all the facial products. It seemed to fit so well, and worked the convo killer 5, dude! I loved it!

Also, how great that Mia gets to review all these bands and gets everyone into such cool clubs and stuff. That would be so awesome if it happened in real life. I can just see us now! :laugh:

Loved this part! Adds to the mystery and intrigue surrounding Jaime.

eeee! Loved this whole part about Queen Bees. Squee! So very fitting, I must say.

:yes:

And, uh, heck yes for Mia creeping in at the late hours of the night. Hot dark curly haired guitarist? Yes, please!

What can I say? You don't want me to rant like usual, but you see, I acnnot help it!!
First, the whole facial products thing is very smart, and very girlish... I gues it a sort of animal instinct to emulate your girls' habits when you're all in the same group.

Second of all, when I first read this, there was a part who made me feel slightly uncomfortable, and it is the way you pictured Anna and jaime talking. See, I read it all in a row, and every time I said to myself "okay, relax, she might have got ou pegged, but it's just a story and maybe it's a coincidence", you introduced another paragraph where I could see myself in, completely.

And, it was this:

Side note, it is so classic that Anna got a bad score in a test!!! :cry:

I love Mia's job... it brings satisfactions to her and advantages to her friends... tons of them on both sides!!

DITTO!!

The Queen bees part, you know I loved it, enough to put it in my MSN SN, and I told you why. ;)

Ahahaha, don't ask me why, but I loved this image!!

Ahemmmmm... I must agree, I'm afraid. Despite I don't like Margaritas, well, can totally picture this scene. The WHOLE scene, I'm afraid... heck, I've been to enough graduation parties to remember what it means to crawl back home in a completely disheleved state.

:wacko:

But, yay for Mia!! :tsk:

Sigh... I love this.

A great chapter. You establishing the relationship between Jamie and Anna. While again giving us insight into Jamie character some more, and build the tension who was she with and it's so good. I can't pin point exactly what makes this fic so good, but its is.

You girls are the best!! *hugs*



Things haven't been the same
Since you came into my life
You found a way to touch my soul
And I'm never, ever, ever gonna let it go

Sunday afternoon, the newbies were taken on a bus tour of the city, and all was quiet in the corridors of the dormitory. At about midday people began to rise, to stumble bleary-eyed toward either the bathroom or the lounge, some returning to the quiet darkness of their rooms not long after they’d left. I found myself surprisingly awake – they say you don’t get hangovers when you’ve vomited all the alcohol up the previous night, and I guess I proved that theory right. In good spirits (well, good spirits for me on a Sunday morning, anyway, I wouldn’t say I was shouting Good Morning from the rooftops) I headed to the lounge, found me a deliciously unhealthy snack and a trashy magazine (they’re kind enough to provide us with a few English speaking ones, although sadly for me no Italian) and headed out into the warm sunlight of the courtyard. Jaime was also out there, doing her daily stretching exercises for her dance class. We must have looked a sight to anyone walking past – two young women with bright red hair and pale, pale faces, so alike we could almost have been sisters, each wearing dark glasses and smoking cigarettes. But while one was dressed entirely in black, with an entirely bored expression on her face as she flicked through a magazine, with the air of someone who’s never done a day’s exercise in her life, the other was dressed in bright shades of pink and yellow, and was twisting herself into ridiculous shapes that were designed, in my humble opinion, with the sole purpose of making an audience gasp with sympathetic pain.

“Oh stop,” I said as she somehow managed to hold one foot up beside her ear. “Bloody show-off.”

Jaime grinned, dropping onto the grass and stretching her long legs out to either side of her. “Sorry. You’re bitter this morning, or is that just the vomit-aftertaste?”

“Would you like a smack in the mouth?”

“From you? Yes, please!”

She’s a funny girl, our Jaime. Yep, a fuckin’ riot.

I flicked through the magazine, reporting anything of interest to Miss Contortionist as I went. “Angelina’s dumped Brad again.”

“Good thing too, he’ll probably cheat on her.”

“Looks like Jessica and Nick are on the rocks, too.”

“Again? They would have been divorced a long time ago if only she could spell her name right when she signs the papers.”

“It seems Lara Flynn Boyle is anorexic. And they’re saying she actually admitted it this time.”

“I have no comment for that.”

Then something of actual interest caught my eye. “Hey, Johnny Depp got married!” I put the magazine down. “Now that is a crying fucking shame.”

My interest was purely of the aesthetic type – who doesn’t wish that Captain Jack Sparrow would stay single forever, just so if you ever happened to run into him you might have a chance? But Jaime’s head shot up at my announcement like someone had just told her she’d been enrolled in yodelling classes. “What? Read the article.”

Happiness lies in your own hand
It took me much too long to understand
How it could be
Until you shared your secret with me

I read aloud: Reports were confirmed by the representatives of Miss Marguerite de Rossi, an up-and-coming supermodel who’s just signed a contract with Chanel, that she and actor Johnny Depp, whom she’s been dating for three months now, were married in a secret service in Las Vegas a little over a week ago. While the date hasn’t been confirmed yet, the shock wedding took place only days before Depp left the States to head to Paris, France, where filming begins on his new movie in the next few weeks. While de Rossi didn’t accompany her new husband, she is quoted in her press statement as saying she is ‘overjoyed and so excited’ about the union.

Jaime’s mouth was hanging open. “You okay?” I questioned. She’d suddenly gone very, very pale.

“Just a damn cryin’ shame, is all,” was her muttered reply. “This sun is giving me a headache. I think I need to go back to bed for awhile.”

“Sure.” I watched her leave.

It’s funny how you can never really know a person, not entirely. And I’m not just talking about Jaime here, who deliberately shuts herself off, but people in general. How can you ever know truly what another person is thinking, is feeling? You can’t, and I think that’s what depresses me so much. And I think that’s what the whole point of this little writing exercise is.

Mmm mmm
Something's comin' over, mmm mmm
Something's comin' over, mmm mmm
Something's comin' over me
My baby's got a secret



*song credit: "Secret" by Madonna

First, I LOVE 'Secret'!! It's one of my ever-favourites since White Lies. :P

Second, well, every scrap of interection between Jaime and Anna makes me smile because i wish it was true, especially a light-hearted like it was this one, at the beginning... I can totally picture the two of us behaving like that!!

Then...

Ewwwww!!! Too much of information, Anna!! Yep, definitively me! :blush:

But, the whole Johnny-thing was a real kick, especiallyconsidering Jaime's reaction, and I bet it won't bring any good.

Sorry for the reply hat is shorter than usual (I know you're all happy of it!!), but I have a test now, so...

:love:

Hey,
Another brilliant chapter, could Johny Depp be the person she was with maybe. Oo the tension builds I love the last paragraph about how you never know how people feel. That was very clever.

The wheels in my brain are spinning, indeed. Was Johnny the mystery perfect shag Jaime had, and if so, what is she going to do now? It seems she was unaware of the marriage.....I think she should scratch his eyes out.

But, maybe I am just jumping to conclusions. :yes:

And, uh, destiny! Today's bracelet word was Secret for Madonna's song.......and it was in your story today! We are psychically connected, dude!

Amber, I love you for your reference to 'psychically connected', me and my high school friends used to say that all the time! And I love you even more for using the word dude, dude! lol :love:

Ooooooh! This story just keeps getting better and better. Girl, you are outdoing yourself on this one.

Okay...few things that I feel the need to point out.

-Loved the whole cleansing ritual as a way for Anna to extract info from Jaime. Seems all harmless, just a bunch of chit chat while pores are being cleansed, but really it is Anna's sneaky way of finding out what is going on with Jaime. Brilliant and so very girly like!

-Ooooh. If only I had a job with such awesome perks like Mia. Checking out the hottest new clubs, dancing my arse off, and drinking with my girls. Sign me up! ^_^

-The Queen Bee bit was hilarious and so true in this odd way. Sometimes it can't be helped. And it is really odd, because I find myself in that situation in my group of friends in RL and I don't even mean for it to happen. I guess it is a product of being loud.

-Love that Dom is considered a Queen Bee. Plus it was the first mention of a boy in the group of friends. Weeee for new characters.

-I like how you are slowly and gradually introducing us to everyone and then still throwing bits and piece of info about that character out throughout the story. Sheer genius. I liked how we found out more about Stacy and her hopeless romantic notions. Who doesn't want to fall in love in Paris?

-Mia + one delicious looking guitar player with curly brown locks + creeping home late at night = :tsk: Go Mia!

-Loved the use of Secret. One of my top 5 favorite Madonna songs.

-Ah ha! Interesting reaction on the part of Jaime when Anna mentioned that Johnny Depp was now married. Hm....could it be that Johnny was the hottie that resulted in Jaime not seeing the sun for a whole week? Afterall, he isn't French. Curious. So curious.

I seriously feel like I'm reading a novel. This is just astonishing! Every detail you put into this is amazing. I love how you're introducing people, things, ideas, whatever little by little. It makes the story evolve better that way.
^_^

Can I get an Amen?!

:love:

~Stacy~

Okay, this is Part 1 of the next chapter-thingie, basically the song will continue into the next part...newayz, here it is! :P


I had visions, I was in them
I was looking into the mirror
To see a little bit clearer
The rottenness and evil in me


I’d never really seen her cry before, not really. Sure she’d shed a few tears the night we decided to have a girlie night in and watch Beaches, and maybe on occasion when we’re talking about home she’ll get that sheen in her eyes and a tightness in her voice. But I’d never seen her in a state like this before.

Amber had been at the library studying for most of the afternoon, and others said they saw Jaime leave the dorms just after our conversation in the courtyard. She’d come home looking deathly pale, like she was going to be sick, and gone straight to her room. When Amber returned a few hours later she found her curled into the foetal position on the floor beside her bed, crying like someone had just died. And that’s exactly what Amber had thought – that there’d been a death in the family.

Amber had called me straight away, and I’d arrived to find Jaime in that same position, more lucid now, but still with uncontrolled – and maybe unnoticed – tears streaming down her cheeks as she protested that she was fine. But she wasn’t fine. Her hands shook, and yes they always shook, but now it was way more pronounced, and it was like a floodgate had opened. There was no going back now, she’d started to bare her soul, and was no longer in charge of the way the game was played.

“Tell me what happened,” I said, kneeling on the floor before her. In the few seconds since entering the room and going to her, I’d already pretty much pieced together what had happened. How could I not? It was as clear as day. Jaime had spent the previous week in Montmarte with renowned actor Johnny Depp, recently and secretly married, who had arrived in Paris just over a week ago to begin work on a new film. Sounds crazy, huh, but trust me, with Jaime anything’s possible.

She knew that I knew. For once her clouded eyes gave her away. “I went to confront him,” she said in a voice that was so unlike her natural one it was scary. “And he…he…”

Amber was staring at us, unaware that a silent understanding had passed between us. “Did he hurt you?” I asked quietly, quickly checking her over for any signs of bruising. “Did he touch you?”

Jaime shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Of course not. He just…said some things. Some horrible things. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Jaime, tell us. You’ll feel better once it’s out in the open.” That was her own motto that I was throwing back in her face, and she knew it.

“He called me ‘little girl’ and said that even if I’d known it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Amber had sat down on her bed on the other side of the room. “Known what?”

Sinking her head back onto her pulled-up knees, Jaime let out a sob, and I looked up. “That he’s married.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Amber considered this for a moment. “Is he anyone we know? ‘Cuz I’ll fucking kill him.”

Again, it was me that spoke. “It was Johnny Depp. Wasn’t it, Jaime?” She gave an imperceptible nod, and Amber clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Jesus Christ…since when is he married?”

Now the elusive one spoke, her voice coming out in one long wail. “Since two weeks ago. Since just before he left for Paris.”

“Oh, Jesus…”

“Hey, let’s just try and leave the Lord out of this, shall we?” I couldn’t help but to try and make a joke – usually something that corny would have at least raised a smile from Jaime, but now it got nothing. Thank you, you’ve been a great audience.

Hours later we left her, still on no better condition, but we were unable to do anything more. It was heartbreaking to have to leave her like that, but no doubt it’s for the best. She’s an independent spirit, and she knows human emotion. She’ll sort her way through it. She always has in the past.

*song credit: Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger

It was him but that leaves more questions than answers how did she meet him why she upset. Ahh Great chappie Jamie

Sigh... I have always been persuaded of it, that being powerless before the pain of a loved one is somehow worse than being in pain yourself.

I guess Anna and Amber were shocked by Jaime's reaction... I mean, every time you read a story you forget that it is narrated to a point where the characters already care a lot about each other. And, now they find themselves before this 'icy' friend that suddenly melts down.

*kicks Johnny* <---- and I know it will be the first time of a looong series!

Ps: that's the kind of friendly support I miss, sometimes. :cry:

Booooooo Johnny! :box:
*kicks him after Mena is done with him*

Well, I sure hope Jaime can cope with this. You can already tell that her emotions are often pinned to her sleeve. *sigh*

~Stacy~

*grabs Johnny and roughs him up a bit after Mena and Stacy are done with him* :box: Take that you insensitive jerk.

Well, this is interesting. So it was Johnny that Jaime had shacked up with. What is up with him calling her a little girl? Stupid jerk face.

I know just what Jaime needs. ALCOHOL! Copious amounts.

Hey, it works for me. ^_^

ahhhhhhhhhhh! *bites Johnny* And, not in a good way, either! In a rabid dog, I might rip your throat out kinda way. :anger:

What a piece of trash he is!

I hate himmmmmmmm! What a self-absorbed prick! I can't believe he said that. aghh! I just want to beat him senseless, I swear.

Oh, now I'm angry, and them was fightin words! We are uniting to kick Johnny's playboy ass!!!!!!!