Marianne Meets the "Free-Write," Looks Like James Dean While Smoking

Marianne waits on her bed, staring at the fleshy sides that hang over the low-waisted jeans of her roommate, the lazy one, Angelica. Angelica is fitting four classes worth of books into her bright blue backpack because she does not want to cross campus to return to their room for the ones that she'll need when she needs them. Instead, she will carry that heavy bag like a pack mule. She will complain later on at night while in bed, her large breasts spread over each side of her chest, that her back is hurting her, and maybe it's from all of that crazy sex with Jaime. But Marianne won't suggest the other reason, that overloaded backpack. Instead, she will remain quiet, focusing her eyes through the darkness of their dorm room on Angelica lying in her bed parallel to her own. Their third roommate will snore from the top bunk above Angelica, but Marianne will be focused on those large breasts that if she told you she did not think about touching with her own hands or lips, to feel their warmth and heaviness against her, she would be lying.

Angelica's wet hair leaves damp spots on the back of her tightly fitted t-shirt, the one that stops just above her navel piercing, the one that reads, "Try It." All of Angelica's clothing, accessories, home furnishings tend to read something, whether it's a simple Boston University sweatshirt or her initials embroidered on the backpack or the short shorts that she wears to bed that has SWEET emblazoned across the ass. Everything on Angelica talks, has something to say.

Angelica says, "What you doin' today? You going to class?"

Marianne loves Angelica's accent. Angelica is the state of Rhode Island, the city of Providence, with all of its threatening, dark alley ways and bright, historical, downtown tourist traps rolled into one. Marianne says, "I don't know. I don't think so."

"Why not? You gonna fail, huh?" Angelica is crouching down toward her mattress, her ass sticking out as though she might shake it. Marianne smiles while Angelica works the straps of the backpack over each shoulder, then leans forward with an "Aye!"

Marianne props herself up on an elbow, reaching for the cigarette pack on her desk. "You okay?"

Angelica says, "I seriously need to rethink my major."

"Or carry less books," Marianne says, cigarette between dry lips, her thumb working the lighter's flint wheel.

yeah - more later.

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