YOU'RE AN EXPLOSION.

dreams of naughtiness,

STOP MAKING THE EYES AT ME AND I'LL STOP MAKING THE EYES AT YOU WHAT IT IS THAT SURPRISES ME IS THAT I DON'T REALLY WANT YOU TO AND YOUR SHOULDERS ARE FROZEN AS COLD AS THE NIGHT OH BUT YOU'RE AN EXPLOSION YOU'RE DYNAMITE YOUR NAME ISN'T RIO BUT I DON'T CARE FOR SAND AND LIGHTING - - - - - - - - TAG | BLAIR SCOUT REESE WORDS | 843 NOTES | lol wow all the suck

Life was rather exciting when you were caught up in the gravity of a shooting star like Blair Reese. Mona had experienced the misfortune of running into her while she was helping cater some fancy party and been talked into making out with her in the kitchen, and that was it. She was a goner. Starstruck. Vivacious, careless, exciting, beautiful girls like Blair always suckered her in. In the short few weeks since that first meeting, Mona had really settled into her orbit. She enjoyed waking up in the middle of the night to her phone buzzing because Blair needed her to do this or do that. Come out and play. Crash this party with me. Let’s drive into the city and cruise the streets until dawn. Etc. Mona was no stranger to spontaneity or adventure. She loved the idea of it, always had done. But she’d done most of her growing up in small town Ohio, where the most exciting or adventurous thing she and her friends ever did was sneak out to sit in the parking lot of the local 7-Eleven and flirt with the night staff until they gave them free slurpies. Mona had been queen back then. Comparatively bold and fearless, she had been the first of her friends to do everything. Kiss boys. Kiss girls. First cigarette. First joint. First backseat fumble to dissatisfaction. And so on. Whenever there were adventures to be had, Mona was coordinating everything from the center. Egging on her cluster of shy and giggly friends, politicians daughters and debutantes, nervous and sweet good girls who couldn’t foster an ounce of rebellion between them. Next to them, Mona had practically been a wild card. But here in New York, with new star-splattered friends like Blair, her years of adolescent rebellion seemed very tame. She seemed very tame. In bed by 10 every night so she could get up early and help out with the restaurant kind of tame. This is why she was glad for Blair. She needed the occasional little kick to do things and live a little. She needed those late night prompts to adventure. Of course, there were many other reasons she was not glad for Blair. Like the fact that she was some sultry Goddess who only had to look at Mona in her little ‘come hither’ way to get her hot under the collar, and then things could quickly spiral out of control. Mona was very vehemently of the opinion that she didn’t want a hook up kind of deal – that was not where she was at right now. Her sexuality was still something of an open wound for her. Well, not the gayness itself, but the fact that she’d been kicked out of her home for it, yes. She was still not out to her father, and she didn’t want to risk him finding out until she was ready to take that leap and tell him. If she was going to sneak around with girls behind his back, it needed to be something special. Something serious. Something worth risking it all for, rather than just a fumbling fling. Her head was not nearly in the right place for casual detachment. This was not something that she wanted. But Blair gave her that look sometimes and she… Well, it was very hard to resist her. She hoped it might be easier than usual today. The present adventure was some fringe music festival that Blair had randomly decided they go to. Mona didn’t know why. She rarely knew why Blair decided to do anything that she decided to do. She just went with it. Unquestioningly, almost. Sleepwalking right into her every nefarious plan and thoroughly enjoying it. But today would be fine. Barely any risk of succumbing to her charms. Not in broad daylight surrounded by hundreds, thousands of people. Chewing idly on her bottom lip, Mona bobbed up onto the balls of her feet and scanned the meandering crowd for that familiar hint of glaring sunlight on platinum blonde. You could usually see Blair coming by the glow – or was that just Mona imagining her an undeserved halo? Frowning, her eyes roved over the crowd, and then she gave up and dropped onto the soles of her feet again. They were supposed to be meeting here, and had been about ten minutes ago. Right by the festival’s entrance, although Mona had moved along to lean against the fence a few feet down, so she didn’t have to stand and make awkward small talk with the guy patting people down for sharp objects and illicit beer supplies. With an impatient little groan, she whipped her phone out from the pocket of her shorts and set about composing a series of briefbut rapid text messages: Where are you? I’m here. I’m by the fence. By the gate. Are you here yet? Are you here yet? Where are you? Are you here yet? When in doubt, just send text after text until you get a response. Seemed like as good a strategy as any.