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message 1: by criticaster (last edited May 08, 2014 06:52PM) (new)

criticaster | 908 comments
 ʀ ᴀ ᴄ ᴇ ||  ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ɴ ɪ ᴇ ||  ᴀ ʀ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ
A⁾ɢᴇ | 22 | ▫ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ
G⁾ᴇɴᴅᴇʀ | | ▫ ʜᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟ ▫ sɪɴɢʟᴇ
B⁾ɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ | 15/02/92 | ▫ sᴛᴇᴡᴀʀᴛ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴀʟ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟ
B⁾ɪʀᴛʜᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ | tyne val., P.E.I. | ▫ ᴄᴀɴᴀᴅɪᴀɴ ▫ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ▫ ɢᴇʀᴍᴀɴ
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬ ▬▬ ▬ ▬▬ ▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

(view spoiler)



message 2: by [deleted user] (last edited May 08, 2014 06:51PM) (new)

Jace Sinclair

 photo tumblr_mbq0b2GICG1qdzg2co1_r2_500.gif

For being a 23 year old, Jace is still struggling to figure things out. In the meantime, he finds that living life day to day just might be the way to start.
Careless.
Single.

What more could he want?



message 3: by criticaster (new)

criticaster | 908 comments
“I'm sure you two are going to get along just great.” The deep baritone voice was laced with delight as it danced around Grace's ears, as if encouraging her not to be so damn sceptical about these kinds of set-ups. It'd been quite some time since the young adult had dared tiptoe her way back into the dating game, not that she'd had much of a choice when Brandon showed up at her door two days earlier with the oh-so grand announcement that he'd found her a possible candidate to rid her of the crazy-cat-lady induced lifestyle she'd allowed herself to succumb to. That's right, Grace was the proud owner of two Bengal cats and more recently an adopted dalmatian pup she'd claimed as her own two months of having desperately searched for his owner without any results.

“Grace?”

“Hmm?” The blonde shook the thoughts away and looked up at Brandon, an apologetic smile ghosting her features. “Sorry, yeah, I'm sure he'll be great,” She replied, hitching the strap of her sport's bag higher up on her sculpted shoulder. It would be a lie if Grace proclaimed not being even remotely curious as to who exactly her friend had in mind. He'd assured her that he was into sports, but that was all. Even then she felt as if he'd been keeping something from her, however, 'twas probably her her psyche playing tricks on her in the hopes of discouraging herself into not going on this so-called 'blind date'.

But Grace trusted Brandon more than she trusted most people and that was plausible have been the sole reason she'd agreed to this ridiculous idea of an unknown date (Grace would never admit to wanting a man in her life to share her love of cats and puppies like she did). Her brown-haired friend, whom she'd known since elementary, had a boyfriend of his own, much to the stereotypical eyes' surprise. Brandon was extremely tall, breaking the scales at six feet and five inches and weight well over two hundred pounds of meat. His lover, on the other end, was significantly smaller than him, standing at five feet and nine inches, however, there was no doubting he was the one to wear the pants in their relationship.

Instead of a voice forcing her to break out of her train of thought, a heavy, firm arm was draped over her shoulder. “Like I said, I'm positive you two will get along great.” The smirk on his face was a little unnerving, but Grace shrugged it off, as she did his arm once they'd stepped onto the tennis field. The two sauntered to the benches and took out their rackets, Brandon leaving for a minute to go fill up his water bottle.

How bad could this be?

(view spoiler)



message 4: by [deleted user] (new)


"She has a nice ass."

Of all the possibilities to mention about the mystery girl, Conner chose that simple fact to share. One would think that a name, or even a hair color would seem more important to mention; Conner did not. With every futile attempts to squeeze some sort of useful fact out of him, a smirk would twitch on the edge of his lips and he'd simply shrugged. The man with the unbearable impatience eventually approached only one option, to capitulate.

Maybe her ass would be nice.

Jace was not completely oppose to the idea of entering the dating field. Though a serious relationship seemed years in the future, he found little harm in a few hours of fun. Perhaps not as fun as visiting the bar for a night of thrill that ended with him waking up in an unfamiliar bed, but nonetheless, it had potential. Ever since he had stopped dating, not long after his last relationship, he developed a wary attitude towards the whole prospect. Marriage or even steady dating never caught his attention. Despite this all, the secrecy of the event captured some of his attention. It only took pleading, a taco twelve pack from Taco bell and concert tickets (all from Conner) to convince him.

Soon, it became clear that the hardest part of it all was leaving Charlie back at his apartment. The beagle, nearing the age of four, happened to be Jace's closest confidant. Through the various hikes, runs and anywhere else that allowed dogs, the small little body always accompanied him. Lost in the contours of his thoughts and the steady line of steps beside him, Jace soon found the court steadily approaching. Shifting the weight of the bag, crossed over his chest, he managed to pull himself into reality.

"Brandon, I hav-" Conner began to speak, already moving from my side and heading over to his boyfriend. Jace found this peculiar along with how Conner had been acting the whole way there. Then again, Conner always seemed to be buzzed on something or another. Not having time to muddle through this, he rotated sideways to see the mystery girl inside the courts. Jace saw only her profile, but something was oddly familiar about the soft dimple and the curve of her chin. In the end, it was the hair and eyes that gave her away. A strangled feeling twisted his stomach as the memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. One did not forget those cascading, blonde waves. One did not forget those piercing, merciless eyes.

Grace Harper.

The name felt bitter on his tongue.

"Shit."



message 5: by criticaster (new)

criticaster | 908 comments
|  ʀ ᴀ ᴄ ᴇ ||  ᴀ ʀ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ |
My mom always tells me that I was been born with running shoes on my feet, and sometimes I wonder if that's true. I've been wrapped up in sports and fitness ever since I was I could remember, which was pretty far back. I remember the first official sports team I ever joined was this soccer program for children. I think I was about three or four, so it's safe to say I didn't know much about anything. But now, many, many years later, I could honestly tell you what would be the best things to eat for specific sports in order to gain specific results.

I throw a glance over my shoulder when I hear footsteps sound behind me and I see Brandon making his way back, this grin adorning his features in such way I dread the meaning behind it. The thing I've learned with Brandon is not to question any of his motives; they'll make themselves known soon enough. Racket in hand, I turn around just in time to see Conner and the man I can only assume is my supposed 'blind dat- No.
Oh hell no.
I would recognize those eyes anywhere. That hair, that look. I feel a forgotten flame ignite inside of me, burning my stomach with surfacing memories. I look over at Brandon, who's arm is wrapped around Conner's shoulders, mentally questioning their logic behind this entire thing. “This isn't funny,” I tell them, folding my arms across my torso.

“It's not a joke.” Brandon smiles widely and in this moment I want nothing more than to backhand his face with my racket. “Conner and I thought it'd be great if we got together, played a match or two,” He explains just as it sinks in that Jace fucking Sinclair is the guy I've been pestered to go on a blind date with.

But more importantly, this guy is delirious if he expects me to play with Jace, of all people.

(view spoiler)



message 6: by [deleted user] (new)

↠ Jace Sinclair↞

Around ten years ago, I attended a summer camp. Just like every other, Camp Colby Lake had it all. From fishing and swimming, all the way to adventurous hikes and even a bit of spelunking, it was a 13 year old boys daydream. I lost myself in all the activities, unable to get enough of the exercise or the outdoors. There was nothing that could ruin my week at Colby Lake. Nothing that is, until one day while I worked to earn my swimming award. I could recall the murky water and even the humidity of the day. It was then, when a leech attached to my foot. For what felt like hours I couldn't get rid of the stupid thing. It's little mouth wouldn't let go.

Grace existed as the leech of my high school experience.

"You're kidding, right?" My voice meld into the mix of others, unable to believe that Conner would devise such a plan. My grip tightened around the bag strap, while my lips pursed together. Narrowing my gaze into a glare, I eyed Conner as if by merely looking at him I could somehow make him rethink this choice. Grace Harper? There was no way, in a million years, that anyone would ever think Grace and I should just play a 'match or two' together.

Once I finally disposed of the leech on my foot, I had been relieved. With my new freedom, I had swam far and wide, even accomplishing my swimming task. After Mr. Jones(the camp director) handed the award to me, I never thought I'd ever have to deal with that again. Except here she was. Here was the leech of my four years of spotlight. Always challenging me, beating me, and competing against me, I could think of nothing more than wanting nothing to do with her.

Grace looked different. With a subtle side glance, I could see that even clearer now. The years had done wonders to her curves and over all she seemed more.. feminine. None of this convinced me. I was sure beneath the abounding blond locks, she was the same. Ready to beat my ass in whatever challenge stepped before her.

"Come on, it's only one tennis game." Conner remarked,attempting to hold back the grin that wanted appear. Failing, a wicked grin peaked on his lips. Taking a step away from Brandon, only to reach down at pick up a racket, Conner began to use his only weapon against me. "Would you really walk away from a challenge?"

I could admit a few of my flaws; of them all, pride pulled me down the most. Now, of all times, I cursed myself for such an attribute. Why could I not have been handed insecurity, or maybe OCD? Conner made a great point. I wouldn't, or maybe, I couldn't back down and pull out. That would mean Grace automatically won. I'd go to hell before she won anything. "Fine."



message 7: by [deleted user] (new)

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message 8: by criticaster (new)

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