13Kristen ran around her cramped bedroom frantically, trying to be ready for when Greg arrived. She tripped over a ridiculously high heeled boot, and then sat down on a stack of textbooks as she put it on. After a few more minutes of trying on random clothes and accessories (which formed several quite hideous outfits), the doorbell rang. "That's Greg!" she squealed to no one in particular.
THUMP CLUMP THUMP THUMP BANG!
"Oooooowwww!" In her eagerness to get to the door, Kristen had tripped on the stairs and half fallen, half rolled down the last few. After realizing she was fine, Kristen straightened her bright red miniskirt, pulled up her boots, and fluffed her hair. Then she opened the door.
"Hi."
"Hey," replied Greg smoothly. After giving her a quick hug, Kristen followed him down the walk to his mother's car, in which he drove them to the movie theater.
Four hours later, after the movie and dinner, Greg pulled up in front of Kristen's house. For a moment, they sat in the dark car together, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Greg, being- well, Greg, was wondering what Kirsten Dunst looked like nude. Kristen, on the other hand, was wondering whether or not Greg was ever going to ask her to go steady.
Finally she said, "Well, I better go in."
Greg jerked upright as he replied, "Oh yeah . . . well then . . . see ya!" Then, he leaned over and kissed Kristen. She shivered slightly, feeling a tingly sensation run up and down her spine as the kiss deepened. However, since she was beginning to run out of air, she pulled away, suddenly grateful for the darkness that hid her hotly blushing face.
"Well, goodbye!" With that, Kristen stepped out of the car and almost twisted an ankle on the walk because of her seven inch high heels. Then, she turned and waved in the direction of the car as she headed to the house.
When Kristen walked in, the mantel clock said exactly 9:32. She sighed, right before her mother looked up from her magazine and said sternly, "Where were you missy? Who were you with? Who drove you home?"
"Mom, chill out. I was on a date with Greg. We went to the movies, and then he took me too Fatso's*."
"Oh, said Mrs. Klinger tiredly, before returning her attention to her fashion magazine. "All right then dear. Just try to be home on time next time."
Kristen climbed the stairs slowly, remembering every detail of the kiss with Greg. As she floated past the first door from the top, her twelve year old brother Stacey stuck his head out.
"Hey, did Greg grope you again? 'Cause you sure look happy."
"Oh, you little- !" Just as Kristen lunged for him, Stacey pulled his head (wearing nothing worse than an evil grin) back into his room, slamming the door in Kristen's face.
"Oh, that little . . . Eeeuurgh!" she muttered to herself as she stomped down the hall, grinding her teeth and clenching her fists. Once through the threshold of her room, her only sanctuary, Kristen squeezed her eyes shut and breathed a deep sigh of relief as she shut the door.
When she opened her eyes, Kristen felt much more relaxed. Everything was coordinated to her bedroom theme: leopard skin print, black, and a deep crimson red. (A/N: I actually know this person, and the tacky leopard print, black, and red is EXACTLY like her tastes. I actually wouldn't be surprised if her actual room was decorated like this.)
Kristen flopped down on her bed, covered as usual with the leopard print bedspread, the black sheets peeking out. "Aaaaaahh . . ." she sighed in ecstasy, turning on her stereo. Then, she allowed herself to sink in among the various red and black throw pillows as "Capricorn" by 30 Seconds From Mars began playing.
Kristen awoke to hear "Killing Mary" playing loudly from the stereo. Kristen groggily rolled over and checked the clock, 11:03. She slowly got to her feet, wobbling a little as she peeled off the tight shirt and skirt. While searching for some pajamas, Kristen took a moment to eye her body in the mirror with distaste.
I guess its true I have a great complexion, she thought, but with these thighs I'm amazed Greg ever asked me out in the first place. Then her gaze swept upwards over her rather large, round stomach and wiggly upper arms. Well, at least my breasts are fairly large.
Suddenly dissatisfied with life in general, Kristen pulled on a random nightshirt and went into her adjoining bathroom.
Ten minutes later she returned. After sitting on her bed, Kristen systematically braided her long, soft, honey brown hair into a thick braid. Then, she kissed a few of her posters good night (Tom Felton, Eminem [A/N: I took a snowboarding lesson over the break, and one of the coaches looked exactly like Eminem. It was weird . . .], Orlando Bloom, and Brad Pitt), saying softly, "At least you guys don't care if I have fat thighs." Then, she leaned back and fell asleep.
High overhead, trainees of the ship Youeffo II hovered, one right above Kristen's room, and the other above Greg's. "Th esub jectsa rere ady," [A/N: can you figure out what the "trainees" are saying? It's a code type thingie that my sisters taught me] one whispered into his headset. "TH ENLE TTH EPROJE CTB EGI N!" boomed a soundless voice in return.
A/N: Yes . . . well, I have no idea what you're all going to think of this. I promise you, it isn't one of those romance stories. It just had to start this way . . . it should get more interesting at the beginning of the next chapter. And yes, Kristen and Greg are two actual people I know. They are not together; but are just friends. However, for the story's sake, I figured it'd be better if they were. For those of you that know Kristen and Greg also, I'm thinking of giving them the finished story as a last-day-of-school-I'm-never-going-to-see-you-again present. ^_^ evil flameluvr . . . well, please R&R to tell me what you think! Toodles!