Welcome to 'An Array of Reasons'
Unfortunately the 'blurb' is only so many characters so I'd deem it best if I gave you a more detailed summary as follows:
Esme Platt is a young, fliratious 23 year old art student slowly learning that the assumptions she's made of people, friends and others alike, are not necessarily true to life. As well as struggling with the concept of set career plans at a time when she's trying to fight the ideals and realities of womanhood, her funny and cynical take on life stands corrected when a distant friendship takes an unexpected route. While her young and jovial friends, all blossom into set plans and dreams for their life with their own perks and problems, what happens when a drunken breaking of boundaries leads to the unexpected and further yet, how will it affect the group dynamic? How many acts of justification will it take for her to realise she's only human and that her mistakes don't define her as a bad one.
Funny and lighthearted in most areas while dark and thoughtful at others. All human with the usual canon couples eager to make their presence in the tale known! Haha.
I really hope this is an entertaining story which leaves you wanting more!
If you would be so kind as to review with your opinions, thoughts and reactions, I will be incredibly grateful!
Great. Now I've got your attention, I can go on.
The one thing they like to tell you when you're sat in church or in the biology class with the weird teacher that keeps looking at your thighs or even at home having the awkward talk with your mother; sex is dangerous.
First of all, no.
No, it's not. Use your common sense, wrap your junk unless you like the weird colour that dirty genitals gives you and wrap it even tighter if you have a set career plan. Kids don't market well in job interviews.
What they don't tell you is this:
Sex is good.
It's good for your body, it's good for your relationships, it's good for your soul and holy heck is it good for your downstairs. You will never realise how hungry you can be for something you couldn't explain...
Having said that, let me make a few things clear: I'm not a slut. A slut is someone who tells you what you wanna hear, whenever you wanna hear it. I guess you could say I'm liberal and as for my job title…I'm not a prostitute…
But seriously, why is it such a bad thing to get paid for something your good at?
Here's another bit of wisdom… use your power in the best ways. People are slaves to their eyes, they see you in something they find desirable and they're pretty much yours for the night and this doesn't just go for the guys. The girls love it too. They never admit it, they act like they're not staring at your tits, well guess what, they are.
Everybody is a rebel to privacy.
And another thing, just in case you were reading this and getting a boner thinking of yourself, nothing turns a girl on more than her own body looking at its best.
So here we are. Let's start with a same old typical yoga class. I go, I do the same old thing, again. I power through, perfect my stance, hold my balance and some newbie in the fronts starts to get the giggles and then so does her friend. So much so that they fall over and then they leave the class early to go grab coffee where they plan to never return.
I should be nice and give them the benefit of the doubt but I've seen so many pathetic teenagers claiming that they want to 'be healthy' that these two are pretty much my last straw. I wanna help them out.
'Don't do it.' I warn, standing behind them in the coffee line.
The girl with the long brown hair in a ponytail wet from sweat is eyeing the cake. She's a nice size, pretty gorgeous too, but if you're joining an exercise class, it's for a reason and judging by her blush and her look of discomfort, she aint joining for fun.
'Huh?' She asks, a little confused.
I try to remind myself I'm also sweaty as hell right now and have been doing these classes a lot longer than they have but I can't stand it when people quit without giving it their best effort.
'Don't buy the cake. Because you'll eat it and then you'll feel guilty and you'll go home and look in the mirror and pout because it's too late, you've already scoffed yourself silly. So you'll never go back to yoga and then you'll do the same thing come January 1st, doing it over and over again until all you ever feel about yourself is shit!'
Bit over the top judging by the way her blonde friend glares at me: like she's going to hit me but doesn't because she knows I'm right.
'It's only a bit of cake, what does it matter?' she complains, growling a little but only in a minuscule matter. She's hiding behind her taller more attractive looking friend…if you'd call them friends?
'I'm not saying don't eat the cake…' I explain.
Man, does this girl not understand metaphors?!
'Fooled me' Blondie retorts.
'I'm saying don't quit the class.'
The doe-like girl smiles awkwardly at me, relief flooding up pink cheeks. Almost like she doesn't enjoy being told off but she's understanding that I'm a fucking genius when it comes to knowing people. Man, Edward don't know shit.
'Oh. Well, I just thought I'd try it out…I'm not really good at sports…' she starts, her voice growing quiet and asking for a tea though you can see in her eyes she wanted the sugary filth that was the coffee.
I'm not going to tell her that the moment she leaves this place, I'll be heading to the supermarket to buy a heck of a lot of cake and gorging on it myself.
'That's why you joined a yoga class…' I tell her. Is yoga even classed as sports?
She blushes and her friend takes the lead, rescuing her before she has the chance to grow some balls and answer me herself.
'Can we help you?!' Now her voice is as icy as her hair colour.
'No, help yourselves. Come back next week and you'll thank me.'
'I don't-' P.s her excuses are bollocks.
'Esme…' I say, holding my hand out to her, this seems to distract her thought process.
She smiles shyly at me, grasping my hand with her left and using her right to zip up her jacket to shield from the cold which helps me a lot because her nipples were distracting as hell. Jeez, woman, wear a bloody sports bra.
'Bella.' She says softly. 'This is Rose, she's my friend's girlfriend…'
Me and 'Rose' watch her oddly. It was a weird justification as to hanging out with someone to a stranger.
'Here, let me buy your drinks.' I offer.
Rose is testing me, she deliberately orders some overpriced diabetes inducing shit and watches gleefully as I pay the contents of a mortgage for it.
'That's really kind.' Bella says, warming to me now. She takes a seat by the window, opposite me. Rose sits next to her like a body guard. I don't flinch.
'Have you been doing it for long?' She asks, hopeful now. I smile a little softer. Or try to, your face can only do so much…
'Yeah, it takes practice but it makes you feel good.' I feel like I should look at Blondie when I say for all the vain reasons, instead I keep my mouth shut.
'We just thought we'd give it a go, see what it's like…' She's not the chatty type, but she seems to like having the conversation between us.
'The first session is balls. It gets better over time.'
By the fourth you'll be looking in the mirror trying to convince yourself you see the outline of Beyoncé's ass in your own… I decide not to tell her that either. She doesn't seem like the type to get my reference.
She trusts my words. Maybe because I'm acceptably plumpy in all the right areas and thinner in others.
'Newbies?' I say after she's taking a guilty sip of her tea. I know what she's thinking. She thinking that even tea is fattening and she should have chosen water. Even water has got calories, gurl.
'We are! Just started our first term, you?'
I laugh, I don't know why, I just find them funny, maybe because their enthusiasm for life will shortly die and they'll be left being cynical little bitches like moi.
'First year technically, but it's my second degree….'
The new financial year hit a lot of people hard, she's wondering how I can afford it. I don't tell her that I worked consistently day and night through my teens and my summers and at the moment hold up a string of three-part time jobs.
'Experienced then?' She says laughing.
'Pretty much….' I answer honestly. In all areas…
'Bella, we should be going…' Pipes up her off-putting fiend…I mean friend. Ahh whatever, Blondie with the ball bag expression. She pretends to look at her phone though it says nothing on it. She thinks I can't see because I'm looking at my cup. But my eyesight is hella good.
Bella nods awkwardly (she does everything awkwardly, she's not even comfortable breathing) and stands up to leave, thanking me for the drink.
'See you next week!' I say, not even polite enough to be hopeful.
I tell her, she will see me next week; I've brought her coffee she is in my debt. Ha, I win. I have to remind myself it's somewhat uncool to self-five yourself in public.
'Urm…yeah! See you next week.' She agrees
Bella leaves with Barbie so that you hear the old age bell on the shop door ring. Then I shamelessly return to the cashier to purchase the cake.
I park my car on the drive next to Edward's flashy new one. Unlike some people, I actually had to work to go to college and though my shitty little hippy car looks fuck all next to his smart Volvo, I still act like they're equals.
They've cooked. I know they've cooked because the living room is spotless meaning the kitchen is not. As expected it looks like a bomb has gone off; plates everywhere, different types of food, half eaten, half spread across the walls.
I push my sunnies into my hair to glare at the masterful piece of art. If I took a photo, I might get a good grade in my coursework piece about modern life; I'd call it 'Fuck my flatmates.'
Letting my hands grab whatever crockery is closest, I dance up the stairs cheerily letting my trainers skip lightly across the carpet. I throw back the door to where they're all sitting there.
Carlisle is on the bed, nose in a book while scribbling with his right hand, he doesn't even know he's doing it but he is. Edward has his depressing symphony on, but playing some god-awful shooting game with Emmett who is miraculously beating him. I throw the dishes to the floor to announce my entrance.
'Sort yourrrr Shiiiite!' I sing, grinning sarcastically.
Carlisle turns to face me, looking both apologetic and innocent. He doesn't know what he's about to apologise for but we both know he's going to do it. Edward rolls his eyes to Emmett who is making the situation worse by belittling my anger.
'How was yoga?' Emmet asks, smirking before the Saint speaks up, I'm thinking that I should appreciate the fact he's staring at my ass in the tight sweats but for now, it only winds me up more.
I say Saint because he's pearly white with blonde locks and blue eyes and as shy as a fucking rake. We've been good friends since our first year and he barely says two words to me on most days, stays out my way and does little to piss me off except exert his innocent little attitude. Man wouldn't know what to do with the thing between his legs let alone use it... Nevertheless. He is sweet.
'Ha! Ha-ha. You're so funny! Go back to your little boy games, kid' I say this only to Emmet because Emmett doesn't live here.
I forgot how hard it was to wash the fucking dishes.
'Our deepest apologies, Esme.' Carlisle says, looking at me all guilty like.
He's so genuine he sounds sarcastic.
'Well you obviously didn't do it, did you?!' I'm glaring into the back of Edward's skull, trying to stop myself picking up the plate and breaking it over his fucking hair. Man, I hate freshman!
Carlisle looks even sorrier.
'I'll do it later.' Edward says in a typical teenage fashion.
'Why? Is daddy going to pay for a maid?' I flutter my eyes pretending to be all excited before getting angry angry. 'Because you're lazy as hell and I'm not touching your shit!'
'I honestly don't mind-'
I feel my eyes roll, why did he have to be such a peace keeper?!
'You don't touch it either!' Fucking St Peter over there being such a wimp. It's ridiculous I have to tell him that. He should know me enough that it gets on my tits when he lets Edward get away with everything. He's not his fucking care-taker.
'No, I'll do it.' Edward says, hiding his laugh. 'I'll do it tonight, I promise.'
'Do it now, dickhead!' I yell before storming out of his skanky boy's room and into my bedroom. I push a playlist button on my phone and hear some popular song blurt out of the speakers on my desk. I let it play, blocking out the noises of their dumb shooting game before claiming the shared shower.
Half the shampoo is gone.
Now I'm seething.
As a girl who works and likes to party quite a bit, I'm partial to luxuries money takes place in the most soft, shiny looking natural waves I could ask for, all down to one tiny bottle of lotion costing a good day's pay.
I find myself stomping back in there again. The plates I threw are still on the floor, leaking food onto the carpets and they haven't even turned to notice.
'And buy your own shampoo!' I add, slamming the door again, not really for any purpose but to feel dramatic.
A few hours later, I've calmed down and the reason I've calmed down is because Carlisle is helping me dry up. He's cleaned the floor too and wiped all the sides down though I know if I pull him up on it, he'll play the fool.
'You going to the fresher's parties this week?' I don't know why I ask, he gives me the same answer every year.
'Nah, I've got studying to do…'
I roll my eyes deliberately.
'Take a night off.'
Okay, so, I have this habit of telling people commands rather than asking them.
'I really shouldn't…' he says with a grimace.
'Well just go to this one then?' I suggest. 'It's a pub crawl…' Again the words are pointless. He doesn't realise the difference between a pub crawl and a whore house but just looking at him I know he's more pub-err than a clubber and most definitely not a whore-er.
He grimaces again. I don't normally ask to hang out, we're not that kind of flatmates, not really friendly enough to go out together a lot but friendly enough that I occasionally share his bed, mainly because I'm hiding from whoever I let stay in mine.
'What pub?' He's trying to be polite by making conversation. He hasn't got a clue which pub is which.
'Just the local one first. If you don't like it you can always leave?' It's weird I have to tell him this.
'Well, maybe I'll come to the first one.' He says smiling. I feel like telling him 'Atta boy' and 'good job'. I just grin successfully.
'So, who's going?'
I'm glad he asks me this because now I have to pretend like it's fully organised when really all it takes is for me to say 'night out?' to get the unanimous reply of 'I'm in'.
'The usual.' I say casually, shrugging my shoulders a little. 'Alice, Emmett, Edward.'
I'm still pissed at him about the dishes but I enjoy going out with the guy, he's clever and quite fun to talk to when he's not feeling sorry for himself.
'Oh and Alice's boyfriend.'
This has him smiling. He knows Jasper well and gets on with him. They are both the insufferable learner types of people.
'Do I have to get dressed up?' He asks, putting the plates on the higher shelf so that he exposes the White t-shirt underneath his ironed one, it's as pearly white as his teeth.
'You don't have to…' I say, but what I should be saying is 'You don't have to'. Out of all of us, he's more likely to dress smartly for his usual set up. The bloke doesn't even know what jeans are.
He nods a little more, before returning to the bat cave to cram a few more hours of studying in. I turn to the TV for a few hours and wait for Alice to turn up but like usual, she's late.